You are currently browsing the monthly archive for January 2013.

Strange days, hard days, scary days.

I am trying to keep afloat as best as I can, but I tend to drown, every day more so.

The separation is becoming official; he has basically found a new apartment and is close to signing the contract, he is getting the documents from the registry to file for separation, he is going home to his family to give the good news. Looks like he’s doing all the job. While I am left stuttering not knowing how to handle things, because it looks like yesterday we were talking hypotheses and now it’s all real.

It’s not that I don’t want it, because I still believe everything I thought before, that I do need to have other relationships and learn how I interact with others, I do believe our relationship is not fulfilling for me right now and I do believe I do not love him, not enough, not the way you are supposed to love a husband. He is a dear friend, someone I can rely upon, someone I shared beautiful years with, but I need a break.

At times, it’s easier to accept, when I’m with my friends and feel like I belong somewhere other than my marriage, the hope… it’s like the sky, it’s blue, it’s always blue, but at times, clouds make it look grey, dark and gloomy. At times, bad weather persists so long you forget the colour of the sky but once in a while the clouds part to reveal it once again. That’s what hope looks like: a tiny blue hole in a sea of grey.

I was at training yesterday and I felt good. I started feeling better, after two or three days of disaster, after therapy. The good thing was, regardless of the fear, the hurt and the tears, in the end what was left was the hope and the certainty of the positivity of searching for something I want. Then I went to get my car and I spent the time chatting with this guy – whose name was obviously Stephen – and at least I smiled about it. Then I got to the arena and found Mark already there, and Maddie who arrived shortly after, and he gave me this wonderful heads-up that a room in his apartment may be free within a few weeks and it’s really cheap. So I just thought I am really glad and lucky to have known this bunch of people, I may not be so close to them yet, but I’m planning on changing that soon.

And then I read the latest message from the other Stephen, who was also so gracious to show me his picture and he is nice, interesting and really cute! And 39, which is intriguing. That pretty much closed the deal and the night was just sunshine. I bet coach has never seen me that smiley before. I also kept eye-flirting with that blond hockey player who’s always there on Wednesdays. Maddie thinks he’s like 24, she is probably right, I couldn’t care less. Piercing blue eyes, perfect ass, only problem is he’s a bit of a dick, I mean… he’s a hockey player, what did you expect… Maddie also said he’s too much of a jerk for me, and that someone like coach would suit me better. Ain’t you sweet… It’s soooooo liberating to talk about coach with someone on the ice once in a while…

Some other times, understandably, the layer of clouds is so thick, you can’t even feel the sunshine beneath it all. It feels like falling in a pit without a single handhold to grip to get out of it. I only feel like crying, I see nothing but black, every problem seems too big to tackle, let alone overcome; I feel small, defenseless and uncertain. But each time I suck it up. I wonder, no I kill my soul wondering if I’m doing the right thing, the doubt stabs me a hundred times, but I never speak the words to go back. I’ll end up squashed under the weight of my own balls and this is what it’s going to feel like.

“If you could spare some 15 minutes of your time, I’d like to talk to you about something. Given it’s nothing simple for me to discuss, I’d very much appreciate if you could let me get over with it with as few interruptions as possible, or I’m never going to get to the point. The points, rather. The last time I tried to have this conversation with someone, it didn’t end well; but it was a lifetime ago, where everyone was young and stupid and I hope this time it’s not going to be just as useless.

As you have come to know under awkward circumstances, I am too amongst the pool of desperate girls drooling on the ice during every lesson; what I probably haven’t been that clear on, is that the whole thing goes a tad beyond pure physical attraction for me, as of now. Because of this, I haven’t been just staring during the past few months, I have also studied and analysed him pretty deeply, gathering information from every possible source, from his interactions with me and with others as well as from everything you, Amber and everyone else have ever said about him.

Still, I am sorry to say, I haven’t been able to understand him fully, especially his angle. On the one hand, I have this very strong feeling, which is substantial and not just a hunch, that in many ways his brain works very much like mine. I am not saying this because the idea that your loved one is like you is fancy, I am as puzzled and frightened by it as I could ever be. But this gives me an insight you, Amber, Dave or Mark might never have, because I am that kind of person and I know how we think. Therefore, many of the things I see on him I can categorise as logical, they make sense and fit well together for a mind like mine. Some others of course don’t, as we are two separate individuals, not least of opposite sex. There is though always a little room for deception. Anything he says or does can be ascribed either as the truth, considering my type of reasoning, or as a bold-faced lie aimed just at one thing: fooling the girl.

I have given much thought to what Amber said when we were at camp. At first I had no doubt it could be true, I believed it at once. I wanted to, because it would have been a perfect excuse for me to let go, and somehow I had evidence that it could be true. You know him, better than I do, you know how cold he can be outside of his comfort zone of teacher, how he very rarely stretches outside the role of the professional, towards a more intimate and friendly behaviour. I am still very much astonished thinking of this once instance, where he made a very direct and explicit compliment to me that had absolutely no connection to teaching or skating whatsoever. And yet, he could just as swiftly start talking to some other girl at the end of the lesson and not even turn to me to say goodbye.

I’m not saying this because I want to brag about it. All I am trying to say is: be careful. I guess, this is one of the many reasons why I haven’t thrown myself at him and all the more because you still say you are not interested, you should filter every single word he utters to understand what he is after. It’s close to impossible, I realise that, because if it’s all a game, he is damn good at it. I know you weren’t born yesterday, but, and this is another point I would like to make, I don’t think your situation with him as stable and defined as you make it. You say you are not interested, yet you spent an entire hour the other day talking about him. You say you don’t like him, but you do wonder what you should wear in bed. You say he is just a friend, but he makes you nervous, you fight a lot and you’re sorry when you do.

I assume and hope you are not lying to me and I am really not asking you to assure me that you are indeed not interested, I am asking you to think about it and ask yourself if you are lying to yourself. I understand how it can be difficult to admit there is more than friendship for an infinite list of reasons: age difference, love life situations, implications on training, implications with the social life at the arena… I know, I’ve been there myself. I just want you to think about it very seriously. I am far from pushing you into his arms, if nothing else because there is no definitive certainty that he wants it too, but if you don’t promise me you will consider this very seriously, I’m afraid the two of us might have problems in the future. 

One thing I need to point out: I am ok with you liking him. Please, do not lie to me about it because you are scared to tell me. For one fundamental reason: if he likes you, there is nothing I can or would do about it. You could, and you should be free to do it. But if you keep telling me that you don’t care about him and that he is only a past-time activity, I am going to do something about it. I am going to keep pursuing this, regardless of the result. And if for some unexplainable reason it should start working, I wouldn’t want you turning on me for it. Right now, as hard and unpleasant it might be to admit it, I need a new friend much more than I need a guy I don’t even know that well.

And this is the core point of it all: this situation is a mess. It’s been hard for me to find a balance at training because I like him and this turn of events did not make it any easier. The one and only way to get out of this alive still being friends is being crystal clear and honest about every single detail. I don’t care much who and if he is going to be with, I am not and wouldn’t dare asking you to let go, all I care about is not being lied to. I prefer punches to backstabbing. I also expect you to demand the same from me, so as embarrassing as it could ever be, I am ready to answer any question and address any issue you may see fit to discuss.

I have lost a friend in the past for the same reason. We both liked the same guy, he liked her – that seems to be the constant –  and I was ok with it, it’s not like you can fight fate anyway. All I asked of her was to be honest with me, tell me if she liked him and if something would happen with him. She did none of that, but she sure as hell did him. She may not have been a great friend to begin with, still, if it can be avoided, I’d just like to point out I’m up for it.”

This is practice, I just pray I am going to have the guts to say all this to her face.

Looking in from the present, it was easier when I was 16. It hurt all the same, but I didn’t know any better and I just accepted it as it came, without fighting.

Now it’s a battle. It goes against everything I have known for the past 6 years and it’s a challenge because now, of all times, I understand how it’s about doing something about it, something I have never learnt to do.

It used to be about divine intervention. Andrew didn’t like me, I thought it was all bad luck, about a sort of Eros-ex-machina who would decide how to make people feel about others: I was cursed to love him, he wasn’t. If it had any chance to change, it would take a casual miracle.

I see the logic in that: first off, the reason why I fell in love with those guys was very obscure to me. It felt like it was just a stray arrow from Cupid’s bow, based on nothing and in fact I do believe it was. They were there, they were the cutest thing available so they were viable material for daydreams. Second, I would have never guessed that my persona could make someone interested in me. That came much later, at that time I thought looks was all there was. Third, well it’s not like I had the courage to go up to them and chat them up. So all I did, when I could, was finding someone else who was good enough and hope a twin arrow would skewer them too. I had a point in saying I had no luck in love: I bet no one does, they just know how to work for it.

Well, ain’t it all different now. There’s absolutely nothing I can do if the guy doesn’t like the way I look, but I know I can work the rest. I know, for instance that getting to know me better may make them interested in me. It worked in the past, even if it was spontaneous and not a strategy, so all the more reason it could work as a strategy. I also know, this is possible if we spend time together, alone or with other people. I know I could make it happen, i.e. I am confident enough to believe I could make someone look at me with new eyes.

My confidence though, poor little thing, is still green and inexperienced and only gets so far and, for instance, I am not all that confident that I may make them forget the person they are thinking about and impose myself in their heart as first choice. This is hard, this I do not so much believe, this more importantly feels like something you can pull off only if you’re really good at the game. I’m not.

And that’s my problem right now. Playing the game, when someone else deals you cards is much easier than having to deal cards yourself. It’s like trying to jump an axel before you have mastered your threes. It is to me, at least, since I’ve never really played the game, only studied the theory and here I am in the shoes of the croupier. Since my major occupation in my lifetime has been study, I feel I know all the theory I need, I should just practice it. Problem: I am shy as a lamb. This hummingbird thing has ruined me in this sense, maybe not ruined, but left me utterly unprotected. I used to be a bad boy, that was my shield, that made me bold. And unfeminine. Now that mask is off, I am back at my original shyness, which I have never actually worked to overcome and it’s being nothing more but a backstabbing bitch.

And if by any chance you happen to have to play with someone who is introverted, reserved and shy like you, go figure, it’s a bull-fight. You know you have to talk to him, you know you have to let him know you, maybe give him an excuse to look for you, even propose to do something together, but you look them in the eyes and you choke. All topics and conversation starters seem to have migrated from your head, your line of thought feels like the main character in 28 Days Later, after he leaves the hospital: naked and alone in a deserted square in the middle of the city. Clueless. All the leads you can get never have to do with anything personal, so you can never move the conversation to the next level.

And then there is the pain. The pain of wanting someone so much and never seeming to take a step forward, the pain of knowing he likes someone else, the pain of knowing that someone else isn’t interested but they are still playing with them, the pain of knowing he is smart, cute, nice and rich but heartbroken, the pain of realising how much more you like him the more you know him, the pain of not accepting this situation at your age, the pain of not knowing what to do to change the circumstances, the pain of not knowing how long you’ll have to endure it and how many harder unexpected blows you are still going to get, the pain of not being able to tell him how much you care and how much you’d be willing to give him if he only let you.

So you try your best, and being the 16-year-old you still are at heart, your best is sending him a mix of your favourite songs, carefully avoiding the thought of selecting only the ones your heart sings along every time you think of him. But just one.

Once upon a time, approximately 15 years ago, I was spending my afternoon with Faith and was venting about I don’t know what guy who didn’t even see me and I uttered one of the sentences that was to be one of my most famous quotes: it would be so simple if just for once the guy I like would like me back!

In time I realised that it’s really much more complicated when they do like you, as then you have to deal with their unpredictability in a much more direct way.

The interesting thing is how much this sentence has defined my life. It just keeps popping up in my head, even now, because it always so undeniably true. Not the “simple” part, the part where guys I like never like me back.

Am I the only one?

I still don’t get it. Is it me, them or everyone? I suppose I may have a tendency to dwell on people instead of letting them go – that could also be explained (see Supermarket post) by the fact that my “sea” was full of the same stale fish every day of my life. I may even venture out to say I may have (had) a tendency to like people who could be considered impossible.

True enough I have never excelled at letting them know I liked them, but I guess some of them wouldn’t have needed encouragement. Do I put them off? Am I severely worse looking than I have ever acknowledged? For the first time now I even feel attractive at times, but that hasn’t worked out.

Why am I always the one who never gets the guy? Can I really change that?

I’d like to know how the others do it. The world is full of people who need more than the fingers of one hand to count their relationships. I don’t. It’s always been one-time-things and holiday romances with me. I’m not saying this goes without pain, but I’d see as more functional a love life where you spend a few months with someone, break up, find somebody else after some time and date for a few months again. That cycle should repeat itself at least a couple of times a year, depending on the average length of the relationship, maybe with a couple of one night stands in between. That’s healthy.

If I count people I have dated more than twice, I get the following exorbitant figures: 4 in middle/high school (8 years), 3 during university (7 years) and that’s it, because the third is my current husband who I’ve been with for the past 6 years and a half. For the sake of the argument, the first 4 are a little borderline, too. First one was a holiday romance, just lasted more than one day. Second one, same thing, but we kept in touch after the holiday for a few months. Third one same thing. Just one of them I actually dated like a couple of times in my city but he wasn’t my boyfriend, we just made out.

Man, I just puzzled myself, I honestly thought it would look better. Oh my Gosh, why hasn’t anybody told me it was too early to marry?! Of course I wanted to settle down, of course I thought I couldn’t miss that chance. I feel like patting myself on a shoulder. Mind you, I haven’t turned down people who asked me out. I NEVER did, snatched every damn chance I got – and ended up snogging the worst of the worst…

Unbelievable. I just shocked myself realising that I had no boyfriend at all from the age of 17 to the age of 23. I keep asking myself if I’m forgetting someone, because this sounds off. I am racking my brain, but I can’t recall anybody else.

I remember people I liked, I remember people I kissed, but second dates…  none. What the hell is wrong with me? I am feeling sick.


30 minutes later, I pulled myself together and now I am ready to write again. I know of a lot of people who are with the same person ever since high school or something: Faith is one, Renée too, so I couldn’t ask them if it’s sane or worrying. Sybil has had four major boyfriends so far, in healthy distance from one another, but all of them were long term relationships and she already confessed the last one is the only one she proactively liked. My husband’s past for instance was pretty similar to mine, the difference is he wasn’t interested in having a relationship with someone, sex was more than enough for him. I need to talk to Maddie. I need some fresh perspective on this. And to Claire too. And to my therapist, and I’m going to do that tomorrow, thank Sa.

It can’t be a coincidence that the big gap was after First Fred. And it’s cute enough that I caught a break from it with Second Fred! I had never realised how much damage he did. I felt it, back then when he broke up with me, but I had never realised it so far. I had always thought that in the end it was a matter of bad luck. I’m too wise to believe that now. I think of the night I met F.Fred as the last night I skated too. Ironic. Maybe I finally caught up with my life and my wound.

I remember envying Esther when she told me of all “the mess” with the guys she liked, the mess being every little word, action or occurrence she had with the guys. She interacted with them, she got to know them, she became involved with them. I never did. When I did, maybe when I was a little older already, it hardly ever went in the right direction.

I need a second chance at all that, now that I’m healed, now that I believe I am worthy of being with others, even if not perfect, now that I am not afraid anymore of showing who I am. But will this be enough? Knowing all of this is what I lacked back then or there is something else? It would mean so much to me to pull it off with some of the guys in my “to do list” right now. It’s not to push my confidence, not entirely, it’s evidence of the fact that who I am today is enough to have the life I want. Maybe this time is really just bad luck, bad timing, but it would mean so much to me I just hope this could be granted to me.

Awful day, savage week.

Monday I finally got to see Claire, for the first time after my wedding. Which was good, because it felt like a long time and I missed her, but awful because she simply couldn’t believe what I was saying. I guess, since we met when we were in Berlin at the beginning of my relationship, I kind of made her believe in love more by looking at us. Poor thing had to stop believing in this too and God knows she would need some more faith.

Yesterday I saw Renée and boy, was she hard on me. I understand her motives and I can’t blame her, but she did hit me hard.

Today I am a blurred image of myself, shallow as film paper and weak as a falling leaf. Considering I am supposed to make my grand move tonight and how Fortune itself seems to be turning on me today, I should really run and hide.

Today. Thank Sa, it’s today and as I recently read on and assimilated from Bounce (, it’s not going to be every damn day of the rest of my life, just today. This helped me a little.

I am kind of broken down. I lost most of my confidence, second guess all of my decisions and find everything too much to deal with. I guess, the syndrome has a name: chickening out. But really, what am I afraid of? Having nothing if what I have right now is not enough? I like the idea of having someone waiting for me at home every night and being greeted by a hug and kiss, but the image of that someone is still foggy. It’s been my husband for so many years, that I am used to it right now, but is it really the best possible choice? I like being hugged by him, but the other night I was wondering what it would be like to be hugged the same way by coach. I still feel tenderness, but is it love? I like taking what he is giving me, but I realise I am not giving anything in return. It’s too little, for both of us.

And then there’s Matthew.

I feel so stupid just at the mention of the name. But I guess that with these things you just have to feel a little stupid. And that’s all I have: a name. I don’t know who he is, what he does, what he sounds like, I’ve only ever read him. Hell, I don’t even know what he looks like, since I cannot know if it’s really him in the picture. Oh, but if he is… Is it even possible to like someone just reading what he writes? It could be all a fake, I get that, but if not? Almost none of the people I chatted up are still writing me but him. I thought he abandoned my virtual hummingbird as well, but he did resurface after all. And Tuesday night, when the darkest hours came, reading his message still brought a smile on my face. These days, it’s like a trip to the moon.

I’m dying to get to know the guy, but I’m extremely torn. He has never even hinted at asking my picture, we have shared no detail about our practical lives, and, again, when he asks me about my last relationship what am I going to say? And what if he doesn’t like me and disappears just like Batman did? What if he is the exact opposite of what I imagine him to be? It feels like limerence, maybe it is better as it is and it’s not really worth it, finding out how he is in reality. We talk of things I never talk about in reality with anyone because I can hide behind a screen. Once you find yourself in front of a cocktail, you ask about jobs, hobbies, habits… you lose the magic. True enough that I have no idea what would happen if I found myself in front of someone with whom I have already discussed it all. Maybe it would be easier just to go on. What if he chats like that with everybody, has tons of contacts and never meets any of them because what he likes is just the image he gives of himself? Maybe he is so smart that he can write anyone of us baits exactly what we want to hear. Or maybe I’m overimagining things and the truth is, he is just someone like me, going with the current and seeing where that takes him.

It’s this curiosity I can’t tame. Entering somebody else’s life, learning what their reality looks like, discovering their secrets. I need to explore the world.

And finally Maddie took off, against all odds. Attagirl.

Everything I believed in is faltering. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Happy new year.

I visited an exhibition recently about sex and design objects; it was extremely exciting, in the strictest sense of the word. My husband kept buzzing around me all the time, when everything I would have wanted was to be chatted up by some stranger and have sex with them in a bathroom stall.

I keep thinking about coach. I thought a few days off training would do me good, whereas it’s far from gone. Maddie and her texts… she has no idea of the damage she makes.

Online dating is a ruse. No one ever answers, people I send my pictures to disappear.

I feel stuck. Can’t go on, can’t go back, can’t find a way out of anything. At times I wish I could disappear, go back to being invisible and liking it, go back to not needing anything from anybody. I need some breaking out and it’s not coming to me from any direction.

I spent all of my time and money on shopping during the holidays, buying sexy dresses and fancy heels, assuming a grandeur of soirees and dates that will probably never come. I need the hope. But when I look down to reality, there is just so little that vaguely resembles the life I’d like to lead right now.

I watched several movies, two of them were poignant: Eat, Pray, Love and Take This Waltz. The first looks like my dreams, per aspera ad astra, the second looks like my nightmares, “new things get old”.

It feels like all the creating power I had surrendered to left me all of a sudden and the only power that drives me now is the current I dragged myself in the middle of. I feel like I am not steering anymore, I am merely accepting the consequences of my previous actions.

Being in-between things probably looks like this. I feel part of the change has become me, can’t shake it off, but the Old is still clinging and drags me down. I feel like a mother giving birth, exhausted by labour and still very far from pushing it out. In trying to dig out the New, all I create around me is a castle of secrets and lies. There are so many things I need to conceal from so many people, it’s an unbelievable weight on my chest. Lies to the guys I chat up online, lies to my new friends, lies to my husband. It used to feel exciting, now it feels like a cage I can’t wait to break out from.

In my profound and all-consuming stupidity, I have even decided to try again with coach. I have come to the conclusion that what people say about him is not what I see in him, that trying to push away hasn’t worked one bit, and that maybe I need to be more transparent about my interest. It’s going to be an absolute and tormenting disaster, but I can’t let it go the way I tried before, I need to try something different. Getting to know him better hasn’t confirmed what others think about him, it has only made him more perfect.

I even dreamt of Amber. My Monday night idiocy loop became my Sunday night cosmic despair loop. I dreamt of meeting her someplace and she would ask me if I had being crying (which I did, as usual, in the comfort of my trustworthy car) and I had to deny and deny and deny because well yes I have been crying over the fact that I’d really like to be with the same guy you’re in love with, and you’re my friend, and that’s being a backstabbing bitch in my dictionary.

I desperately need the right person to tell me I am beautiful.

One thing I’d like to know: why does this always* happen? Why do I fall madly for people I know so little and can never get them out of my head? The * is because it actually hasn’t happened in years, last time being with Fabian back at Campus, and still that time all it took was spending a couple of minutes more with him and I was done. Before that … mmh… Nick, oh well more than 10 years ago. But it does happen at times and it makes me furious because I have no control over it. I thought hitting my 30’s would mean being in a no risk zone, but there I am. I had forgotten how painful it can be longing for someone’s kiss. I guess part of the problem is that I am convinced it might work. It was the same with Nick. I felt a connection lying there unexploited and it drove me mad. I see more than one connection now and the doubt that there was something there for him too doesn’t make it easier.

I really hope any sort of God is going to help those who help themselves.