This is really just a place for me to put all of my musings and mutterings. G is trying to get me to set up my own website but I wanted to see how this goes first. I don't want to open myself up to the world before I'm happy with how I come across I guess.
So that's my Title...it came to me last night while I was lying in bed. I told G I needed to have pen and paper by the bed so I could get my thoughts out before they disappeared. The following also came to me;
I thought my own mother had done a terrible job bringing me up. I felt she was always cranky, impatient, mean, unfair. The usual teenage angst and thoughts that other kids' parent's were so much nicer, fair, had more time/love/money. I hoarded that resentment like gold and rejected everything my parents tried to teach me. I wanted to live my life. It's funny how things turn out.....
I made some spectacularly bad decisions with my life in an attempt to prove something to myself. A boyfriend once said to me that nothing ever fazed me. I wonder if I just was so numb that nothing could shock me anymore.
I worked hard to support myself, I barely made ends meet but I was happy to be out on my own. When an opportunity came up to start stripping I grabbed at it. It seemed perfect, I didn't have to work as hard but I made alot of money. I didn't realise that I was going to have to pay emotionally and work incredibly hard to ever move past the mentality it created within me.
At first it was exciting, all the attention I'd ever craved. I was with a man who made me feel as though my worth was measured by my sexuality and that I was lacking even in that. So my job became central to my sense of self-worth and for a long time my moods rose and fell with the amount of money I earnt - it literally was what I was worth.
Too late I realised how entangled I was in my job, how shallow and heartbroken it made me. I couldn't leave, I'd forgotten how to live and work 'normally'.
I fooled myself that the casual sex I had was my choice and something that made me a strong, independant woman. I pasted over the holes it caused to my soul and deadened my feelings with nights of alcohol induced 'fun'. This was the life I chose and the values I lived by....as far removed from my parents' as could be.
I'm sure these years caused my parents immeasurable pain. They must have wondered what they had done wrong as parents when all along the problem lay within me.
I eventually shunned the lifestyle and spent time re-evaluating my life and priorities. I spent quiet evenings with a friend and remembered how it felt to live gently. It was then I met my husband, Garth.
It was a day like every other, it started with tea and toast and I went to work as usual. Some guys I knew came in and introduced me to this tall, good-looking guy with an amazing accent. He was sat across the table from me and all I could think was 'think of something, anything to say, Vicki!!'. I just wanted to hear that accent!! He smelt great as well, and I flirted with him by leaning against his back while smelling his neck. Being close to him was intoxicating and exciting so I accepted when he invited me out for dinner the next night.
Dinner was nice, but odd. I felt comfortable in that I was relaxed and open about who I was, but there was still the space that strangers have between us. In hindsight it seemed that all along there was this feeling that I knew, I didn't need to try to impress, that he would love me - it was predestined. We just had to get to know each other was all.
He kissed me after dinner and invited me back to his hotel room for coffee. I laughed and told him I was sure he didn't have any coffee, and I turned down his offer of a second date. He was leaving to go back to the UK in less than a week, it seemed there was no future for us.
He came down to work the next afternoon, and I was having an incredibly bad day. I asked him to take me out for a drink, and he jumped at the offer. Perhaps it seems inevitable - I stayed the night in his hotel room.
I showed him some of the sights and spent another night with him, but without enthusiasm. I made little effort with my appearance and was relaxed in my attitude. Apparently this was very different to the usual girls he met, and was therefore captivating, fascinating and attractive.
The night before he left he changed my attitude in a way I never expected. After dinner he asked me to come back to his room - he had a gift for me. I didn't open it until I'd gotten home and was sat with a friend. She asked me if I loved him, because he was in love with me based on the gift. I answered that no-one could be in love after such a short amount of time, but deep within myself something was stirring. Something I hadn't felt in a long while and a feeling I refused to acknowledge. I had seen so much of the negative and dark side to men that I feared I'd never trust one ever again. To have let myself fall for him was a slip on my behalf and a road I stepped cautiously upon.
I was in Thailand the week after we met, I saw the most amazing and heartbreaking sights. And I thought about him. It was a surreal time in my life. I thought about the possibility of seeing him again and realised it was something I wanted.
I called him when I returned from overseas. We emailed such sweet, hopeful things, so cheerful and cheeky. He sent me pictures of his local pub and Taz, his dog. He let me into his life so casually but I suppose with intent. Because really, what were we thinking about, when we lived on opposite sides of the world??
Very quickly we became close, we spoke at the beginning and end of each day. I became rather bad at my job. How could I pretend to find anyone else interesting when all my thoughts were of this wonderful man?? I would find strength in his texts or emails but it faded so quickly, dancing for another man made a mockery of what I felt.
We had met on the 26th of July and by the 25th of October I was on the plane in a frenzy of excitement on my way to see him.
I came through the gate and saw him - My God he was beautiful. Bigger than I remembered and the look on his face.....hope, excitement, fear. He gave me a bunch of pink roses and kissed me, so chastely considering our time apart. We got into the car feeling like strangers and I could barely take my eyes off him for the hour's drive. It was the start of one of our "Us'isms"; at every red light we would kiss. I can even remember the intersection where a lorry-driver tooted his horn at us and waved.
I met Taz and had a shower - I fully expected G to walk in the whole time and wasn't sure what to think about that, but he didn't. We went into the park and there began my love affair, with the man and the city. I walked in Roundhay Park every day I was there; I saw it's seasons and delighted in them. That first day it was dull and grey but it was everything I had expected and more.
On our walk we held hands and laughed together. I felt us warm towards each other again and when he kissed me I told him I was ready. We went back home and melted into each other. Afterwards we ate at the White House (local pub) and I needed to sleep. Deep in the night I woke to find him beside me and we made love again. It was more than I could have hoped for, but everything I had dreamed of.
What followed were the most wonderful, perfect 2 weeks of my life. We went to the Lakes and stayed in lovely cottage with Taz. It was so cold but it made sitting by the window looking out on the grey skies all the more romantic and cosy. We found a tiny pub tucked out of the way on a little alley, we sat in front of an open fire and talked for hours. He danced with me to the songs I put on the jukebox and life was perfect, our love was perfect.
I danced for him one night - he told me he wanted to be the only one, that I never danced for another again. I was still, thinking about the implication, and answered that he couldn't ask me to make a promise I wouldn't be able to keep. It was then he told me that he wanted to marry me, I was all there was for him. He took the ring from his pinky, his mother's original wedding band, and asked me to wear it. I put it on with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face.
Of course it came to an end, early one cold, grey morning. We drove to the airport in almost complete silence, broken only by our disbelief our time together had ended so soon. We could barely stand to be parted, and he sat with me at the entrance to the terminal holding back his tears. When we parted we did it quickly, hiding our pain from each other to spare the other the sight of it. Once through the gates I went to the nearest toilets and ran to a cubicle; I slammed the door shut and slid down the wall in floods of tears.
The flight passed in a blur. I had a stop-over in Kuala Lumpur and had to put one of G's t-shirts over a pillow and hold it to go to sleep even though I was exhausted.
We couldn't function without each other and I upon arriving back home I immediately put into action my plans of moving to the UK. Three weeks later I was 'home'.