I had to do something for the first time ever.

I had to close comments from yesterday.

Even though I don't reply to all comments (I think it's a bit big-headed of me to think that I have something to say all the time) I really enjoy reading them-sometimes they make me laugh, sometimes they help me know what I am feeling is normal, and sometimes they make me think. The comments sometimes help me-the advice from the sister-in-law post helped me, that I shouldn't expect too much and take my time. And yesterday, a number of commenters (some for the first time, and I am honored, thanks) helped me to see that Mr. Y's ex is perhaps acting out of pain, and that Mr. Y is in pain, too. Which I wasn't overlooking, but maybe I didn't see the degree to how much he hurt.

But maybe I have to clarify a few things-Mr. Y and I often talk via text message (although we have agreed that serious subjects like yesterday should be brought via phone, instead of text), and sometimes we both have broken bad news via text, which maybe we need to stop.

I love you guys much, but we need to work with this understanding on my blog-I really do love Mr. Y. I have chosen him and want to live with him. I have chosen him. I don't want us to break up. He feels extremely low when he reads those types of comments and worries that I will be influenced by them.

I love my comments section and love that my blog seems to invoke a lot of response from people who come by my corner in the web world-the laughter, the advice, the thoughts are all read by me. But I need to reassure everyone, and Mr. Y too, that I am moving in with him this weekend, and so we need to work from that premise. You can't blame him-imagine if your significant other had a good friend who was always urging them to break up with you. It would wear you down a bit, and leave you wondering if/when he/she will start listening, and maybe break it off with you.

And Mr. Y-if you have any doubts, think back to the Better/Worse disscussion we had last night. I took a chance by telling you, and it wasn't easy to do that.

I want people to feel like they can comment here and speak their mind. You can. Oda Mae, PJ, Emma, and the others-say what you want about me, I most likely won't be angry-this blog is set up so that you can tell me your thoughts and what you think about. But I have a firm rule that the only person allowed to be attacked in this blog is me. By all means, have a go at me, tell me that I have fucked up, that I have done something right, that I am not sane, that I made a mistake, but no attacking other commenters, and no attacking Mr. Y in this. Calling him an ass is only going to get me in trouble at home and won't help my end of the situation. If you have a criticism to make of him or anyone else, make it constructive-name-calling is only going to make blood boil. I can't have him attacked if you are only hearing my side of the story.

My Banshee was released long enough to take care of the work situation and clip the wings of the Seagull, which I know is only temporary, but at least it got the job done and the fuck is leaving my French fries alone now. But my Banshee was run over by an 18-Wheeler later in the day, and she's now undergoing a life-saving liver transplant. Until she's out of ICU, I am deflated, small, and quiet.

And no matter how hard I try to make things better, any time I open my mouth or let my handsfly over the keyboard, I seem to make things worse. Which has me wondering what to say, and what to write about.

Moving this weekend, so I will be quiet.

-H.

PS-Screaming at the train movie? Footloose.

PPS-I can be emailed at everydaystranger(at)btconnect(dot)com.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 11:35 AM | Comments (33) | Add Comment
Post contains 723 words, total size 4 kb.

1 Hi Helen, I had just hit the enter button when I got the message that you closed your comments. :-(. Oh well. You are right to protect the one you love. I hope you don't take this as against it. It sort of is a message that I think holds true with all relationships. In terms of his family, try and talk to them direct. Same thing in terms of his ex. I know that isn't an easy road, but sometimes, through no one's fault, the words get lost in the translation. You are in his life now, and the ex can't keep you out, but the two of you can work on a way to make it palatable and to decrease tension. In the end that is good isn't it, even if it is hard at first? I would, personally, start by acknowledging that she is probably angry/hurt and has the right to be, that you want to diminish the pain as much as possible, that you don't want to become a rival for her children's love, and what does she need you to know about her kids, about how she feels in terms of different issues, what she considers "out of bounds" in terms of what you can do with the children (cut/style their hair, buy them holiday clothes, purchase mother's day gifts for grandma etc.) I think it best if the dialogue goes from you to her, straight. Don't answer anger for anger, pain for pain. Make sure she knows the major decisions in her children's lives belong to her and Mr. Y. Give her time. I think it will work. And even if she never comes around, stay calm, and know that you will do what is good. Hugs to you. Good luck with the moving in and everything. Oh, and if you need to scream, turn the radio up loud, hop in the shower, and yell. be well, Rachel Ann

Posted by: Rachel Ann at May 28, 2004 11:56 AM (fDJ/V)

2 Hi Helen, I wrote and erased three times yesterday and needed to remind myself that when reading an open, honest post like Banshee it really should be a time of self reflection. Lord knows I have the male equivalent(?) of a Banshee hidden a way somewhere that I would be too embarass to explain to anybody. Remember 'Compromise' a few posts back? Where you wrote "Mr. Y's hobbies and fascinations include cooking (he makes a hell of a curry), lighting fixtures, electricity, bar codes and train stations." and you each explained your interests? All the way to where you "draw the line at bar codes."? That segment brought Mr. Y up quite a few notches. I imagine quite a few guys could relate to this scenario as I could:-) When people ask me what I do it's always a struggle to make an explanation at the right level of detail so as not to bore them to tears. This will be a three day weekend in the States. My brother is sending me questions in email; got to go. Enjoy the weekend.

Posted by: Roger at May 28, 2004 12:45 PM (8S2fE)

3 I restrain from commenting on Mr.Y for exactly those reasons. This is not about him it is about you and your decisions, plus I cant attack someone with out both sides and this blog is only your side. Besides which the comments I think are most valuable arent those that directly criticize but those that prompt you to think and recognize things on your own. Show me the water and I will drink it, try to force water down my throat and I will gag the whole way. That said I really was proud for you letting the banshee out. Having gone through some similar but not same in magnitude things I can say that I really think you need to let her out more often and let others into Fortress Helen. It is a risk but really it is a risk worth taking, and I mean that with every fiber of my being. I have been burnt but it is better to have let in and been burnt than never to take a chance and connect. I actually wrote on my blog about what your post promted me to yesterday. I can recognize that the fear has control, I dont want the fear to have control, but now I have to do soemthing about the fear's control. The banshee helps with the fear and you need to embrace her, as much as you embrace your inner bitch

Posted by: stinkerbell at May 28, 2004 12:49 PM (IHvBP)

4 If we are to not to be critical of Y, then that's your choice, but it's hard when you present such obvious need for criticism, it's like having a broken nail and not being able to trim it...snagging it on everything til it rips off, searing up the nail. I appreciate that it causes problems, but the way you present your side of things leaves us compelled to comment, to offer an opinion. But - in respect of your wishes - I will say this - about you...I thought you were better/stronger...'more Helen' than this.

Posted by: Phil at May 28, 2004 12:55 PM (K2cNB)

5 First off, can I just say that the title of this entry is great? Despite the seriousness of the post, the title takes the edge off nicely. 2nd, I hope that I haven't made any negative comments about Mr Y. If I did it was due to poor communication skills. Every relationship is different. I wouldn't presume to tell you, or anyone else who they should spend their time with. (Although I may modify this when MY daughters start dating...but I digress.) All I know of Mr Y is what I read here, so I always take it with a grain of salt. I know that what I'm reading is what Helen giddy with love/lust or pissed off beyond reason is writing. One can't form an opinion on anything without input from at least 2 sides, although clearly some do. (As a side note--the text message thing I noticed, but immediately dismissed. I figured if you weren't pissed off then it wasn't something unusual. 'Nuff said.) I've had a front row seat for this fractured-then-taped-together family thing in the past. My parents are divorced, and my mom remarried a man who has children. My godson's parents were divorced before he was born, and I was the one who inadvertantly started a big hoo-ha over his name--the name on his birth certificate was not the one that they had agreed on before he was born. I know firsthand that there are always too many players involved for an outsider to make value judgements. From what I've seen, your only mistake was to assume that the polite tolerance you initially received from the family was something more. Try not to take that personally--I know, that's easy to say--because it's not about you. You've stepped into a big pile of shit that you're not responsible for, even though you were involved. The whole family dynamic has been disrupted, and it'll take time to settle. Some may never accept you, that's something you'll have to deal with at that point. I do hope that you manage to form some friendships outside of your relationship with Mr Y. We all have multiple personalities inside of us that need to be expressed with different people. It's a volatile time for you, and I hope you find ways to relax. Hang in there, and if you feel the need to delete some of the more insensitive posts here, please do so. PS- If Luuka wants to come to St Louis and see the Arch, put me on the list. Although I will tell you upfront, if it's hockey season she'll take in a Blues game as well. I may even buy her a jersey...

Posted by: Easy at May 28, 2004 01:59 PM (oQKRL)

6 Good for you!! This is the spirited Helen - (in spite of what Phil said) this Helen can handle stress, put people in their place, and be proud of her own decisions! I'm proud of you, I'm proud of the words you chose to stand up for yourself and your decisions and your love. Hang in there, Helen, love and life are worth it. I think 30 had to have been one of my most confusing years since the teens, but I survived and you will too. Mr Y., thanks for hanging in there - it's not easy suddenly having "imaginary people" believe in you (especially when the anonymity of the internet frees people's speech without worry of repercussions). Happy Moving Weekend!! Enjoy initiating the new house.

Posted by: Lisa at May 28, 2004 02:17 PM (uxfbz)

7 Your banshee seems, after all these years, to have a lot to say. More than anything, she seems to have a great need to be heard. Maybe if somehow she could give full expression to her pain, she would have that need satisfied, be more at peace.

Posted by: Denny at May 28, 2004 02:41 PM (NtNwo)

8 Hello there, darling girl. I didn't read yesterday's comments--I rarely read your comments at all, as if I have something especially pressing, I'll email you. But I wanted to just say goodonya for taking back the blog. I loved your banshee post. I have a Banshee Book. Anything I haven't said that needs "saiding" (couldn't resist), I write in there. It helps. Meanwhile, I'm still compiling doodads for your package. Any particular candy that you're interested in? I've got salsa (hope you like "hot"--if not, tell me!) and other assorted goodies. xxxx

Posted by: Sarah at May 28, 2004 02:45 PM (g/E8B)

9 (((hugs))) i completely hear you. for whatever you may write here, we never get the full context and it's not fair to attack mr. y. i'm glad you two have made other arrangements about text messaging that will be easier to deal with in the future. good luck with the moving this weekend. remember to lift with your legs and not your back! ;-)

Posted by: kat at May 28, 2004 02:50 PM (FhSIP)

10 Hey Helen- I identified with your post, I was out of work yesterday, so only just read it. I let my inner Medusa out about 3 times, lifelong. It always felt great, and maybe she's due for an appearance, soon. I agreed with Oda Mae in your previous comment box, and I think she phrased it very diplomatically. If I were Y's ex, I'd be absolutely livid. More so at him than you, but you'd be on the list. I'd also be concerned about your longevity, as you are not married. Maybe that makes me old fashioned. I was suprised at your commentors for calling her a bitch over that- shame on you guys! How would you like to be in her shoes? I also hear you about comments directed towards Mr. Y. I agreed that the text message sucked, but apparently that's something familiar to you two. I hope he is as protective of you when others say negative things. I'm sure we only see a very thin side of Mr. Y, and if it all looks bad to us, then maybe you have some anger with him you're not admitting to? Again- my two cents, for what they're worth. (Um, two cents- brilliant, Allison). Maybe for future concerns, with regard to your ability to take care of yourself, we should just say that we hope you are listening to the voice of your inner banshee when she calls b.s. at someone's treatment. It's easy to allow yourself to be abused by others and difficult to stand up and refuse to. I'm fighting my own battle with that one. Good luck to us both! Don't think, please, that I was being judgemental above- I dated an older guy with two kids, several years ago, and always thought his ex was just a psycho. Looking back at my attitude, I can't believe I was so guillible. Some would call it Karma, but I'm sure God has some circular payback in store for me along the line- He always does.

Posted by: Allison at May 28, 2004 03:22 PM (YmC5g)

11 Helen, I felt compelled to comment both yesterday and today but realize that I have absolutely nothing constructive to offer both you and Mr. Y . In my vast experience with divorce, your situation appears to be painfully normal. Hope you both find time this weekend to find some smiles, laughs and humor in life.

Posted by: Marie at May 28, 2004 03:47 PM (PQxWr)

12 remind mr y that comments are usually off-the-cuff responses to what is read. many times, if someone were to mull things over a bit, their response would be a bit more tempered (calm). that said, they are your 'fans' and want to jump to your defense. there's not too much inherently wrong in that & i would hope he can take that with a grain of salt, realizing that you already do. much more to say, but i need to compose a reasoned response in e-mail, rather than write a book in the comments.

Posted by: becky at May 28, 2004 03:49 PM (Nfde1)

13 Hey! Wait a minute here! This is my favorite sitcom : )

Posted by: Annette at May 28, 2004 06:45 PM (kfrUK)

14 Do other Helen Readers get the message; i.e., this is not the same blog as the Everyday Stranger of a few months ago? Anyone wanting to post a comment here needs to understand that they are not communicating exclusively with Helen anymore. Mr Y is a very real presence in the background here -- clearly at the head of the queue of her readers. I’d wager he feels pretty exposed by some of the stuff she posts here. Worse, he may really abhor the idea of the SNIPE* character of blogs, but just winces and bears it because he loves her and knows it’s important to her? It’s a very fine line here. To the extent that intimate parts of a relationship are made public – especially to unknown strangers -- it is not a stretch for me to consider that, in the future, this whole blogging phenom could become a potential stressor in a relationship of the same magnitude as those of money, sex and inlaws? Does posting intimate details of a relationship without express consent of one of the partners transgress the boundaries of trust in the relationship? Food for thought (I won’t even get started on what’s the deal with all us voyeurs so willing to peek through the keyhole in the bedroom door of people we’ve never met . . . ! What does that say about me / my life? Yikes. Must ponder that one . . .) Meanwhile, I understand that any comments I leave here are received by two people – not one. I also understand that Helen is the only one (of the two) that is covertly asking for feedback. Until Mr Y puts his innermost thoughts on the web for consideration, I have no clue re how he thinks or feels and my opinion re same is presumptive and uncalled-for. * (strip naked in public emotionally)

Posted by: Annie Z at May 28, 2004 06:46 PM (PkJiK)

15 I don't recall where I found the link to your blog but I do love it. You write so beautifully. Your words flow like a river. I have nothing to add to the Mr. Y topic. I just drink up what you have to say.

Posted by: Terry at May 28, 2004 07:09 PM (4VWb0)

16 It's a good thing that this don't happen very often...life is tricky enough as it is. And talk face to face you two. It might take some time to get used to, but nothing can replace body language and facial expressions during a conversation. Less misunderstandings that way too. Especially with the serious stuff.

Posted by: croxie at May 28, 2004 08:27 PM (37jDO)

17 Wow, sorry you felt so badly about the response you got to the last post. I'm sure you understand, and, hopefully, Mr. Y also, that the attacks may seem misdirected and unjustified, but they come from concern and caring for your well-being. Lord knows if people saw some of what goes on in my relationship, and some others that I know here in the real world, I'm sure there would be plenty of people waiting to whisk us off to a good therapist to figure out what the hell keeps the relationships together. Consequently, I try never to judge, "glass houses", ya know. Only you know the real Mr. Y, and he knows you better than any of us ever will just by reading what you write here, and as long as you're happy that's all that ever matters. That's all any of us wants for you, in the end. Good luck with the move, and I hope you two are happy in your new place. The ex and the kids situation may be a bit sticky, and it might be hard, but it will all work itself out in the end. In the meantime, as was said before, she really has no say about you being around them when they're with him, try not to worry, I'm sure you will all work out whats best for all concerned in time.

Posted by: JaxVenus at May 28, 2004 09:25 PM (j0X+N)

18 Good luck with the move! I hope my comments did not cause you any difficulty. If so, my apologies.

Posted by: Random Penseur at May 28, 2004 09:42 PM (LlPKh)

19 Helen, I read daily but don't comment often. I just wanted to say kudos on addressing this issue straight off. I personally have never doubted your feelings for Y and don't comment on these things because I see this blog as your release and my opinion will only be based on half a story. I don't have any words of wisdom just really want to say chin up and good luck with the new house....I hate moving

Posted by: Casey at May 28, 2004 09:45 PM (0M9ku)

20 I'm sorry if any negative comments seemed directed at Mr. Y. I was trying to express, apparently not very well, that you seem to have made Mr. Y responsible for your happiness and the pressure on both of you must be terrific! Having finally found my one and only - I was 35 when we married, he was 27 - I know from whence I speak. For the first time in my life, when he lashed out at me with a mean comment, I couldn't bring myself to reply in kind, even though I had plenty of ammunition. I just didn't want to hurt him the way he'd hurt me, so I kept it in. Fortunately, he is a wonderful, sensitive man - for an Infantry officer trained to kill things! -and began to reply in kind. He is the only man who has been more important to me than me. I want his happiness, he wants my happiness, and it all works out. I wish the same for you and Y. You sort of hit a nerve with me. When I was a prosecutor, there was a defense attorney who started an affair with one of my colleagues. She was beautiful, young, and six feet tall. You know, the model type. The defense guy was married, his wife had gone blind, they had a two year old son. I would go out with this girl for a beer and she would spend an hour badmouthing his wife and wondering why she didn't just get out of the way so the two of them could get on with a new life. Your comments reminded me a bit of that and I reacted to them. I just remember feeling so horribly sad for the wife, that this new woman wouldn't even empathize with what she was going through. It's always a big painful mess. I am sure you do feel some empathy but you were too angry to put it in the post. (Knowing you like I do which comes only from your blogging.) I wish you the best and I hope you and Y will be drawn together and become more of a team. But always treat others with kindness and sympathy and try to see from their view. It will come back to you - either through their acceptance or others noticing and thinking more of you. Have a great weekend and remember Memorial Day on Monday! Even us ex-pats here in Germany will be celebrating.

Posted by: Oda Mae at May 28, 2004 10:08 PM (xpJCA)

21 You are all lovely. No one here offended me, and in fact, Mr Y apparently has something of his own to say in a little while. And Oda Mae? I never take offense at what you say. I'd take you up on the offer of white beer in Germany, but you know we'd have a perpetual hangover

Posted by: Helen at May 28, 2004 10:10 PM (MlyOS)

22 Annie's right, it's not the same blog, and those of us who've gotten used to things being a certain way might be having a little difficulty adjusting. But I come here because I am drawn to Helen by her lyrical writing style, and if I had to choose between the new tone of her blog vs. her not blogging at all anymore... well, I'm just glad she's still online. So thanks Helen, for continuing to share, despite the new wrinkles in the fabric of your life. I'm sure they'll shake out eventually.

Posted by: Camino at May 29, 2004 12:46 AM (FNZk7)

23 Darlings, I hope I have not said anything that has offended either of you (H or Y) because that is most definitely NOT my intent. I comment in the manner and way that I do, you see, because I am 39 years old, I have been married and divorced, and I have been in virtually the same emotional tumbler as Helen. No matter what, I want it to be very clear to both of you, just because your past problems have been resolved, this doesn't necessarily mean that everything will be just ducky in Helen's psyche. After my husband pulled his head out of his ass and asked me to marry him the first thing he asked me was: "Can you chuck those now?" referring to my antidepressant medication. The thing that I have learned in the year and one-half since we married is that yes, things are better, yes I am no longer dangerously depressed, but NO, I am not "healed." I am still subject to bouts of depression and self-critique -- just as I was BEFORE he made me the happiest woman in the world by sharing his life with me. Eh, fuck it. You know what? I just wanted Helen to know that she's not alone. Because, at its core, I believe that this is exactly what this so-called "Blogging Revolution" is all about. Love, Emma

Posted by: Emma at May 29, 2004 01:42 AM (NOZuy)

24 I emailed you and you NEVER responded!

Posted by: pylorns at May 29, 2004 02:03 AM (PB+b7)

25 Helen, I've been a lurker here for maybe a month, and I've read many of your posts. I just came in here to say that it will all turn out. By the way, sometimes it's healthy to let our banshees out. Scream into a pillow... and then channel that energy into something positive. Good luck with the situation; it's a difficult one, and know that you are loved by those who read your blog. --Marian

Posted by: Marian at May 29, 2004 02:05 AM (xJc/T)

26 wow, it's been awhile since i've had any time to come visit and soooooooo much has happened! i have no advice, but i am thinking of you and wishing you happy things. i know how much you love mr. y and can only imgaine how much it hurt to read everyone beating up on him. things are so complicated for both of you right now, so many hurts on both sides. take comfort in each other and your love. that sounds so super cheesey... but really, you love him and he loves you back and that's a wonderful thing. take care of each other.

Posted by: Laura at May 29, 2004 08:01 AM (UPPF2)

27 Speaking of perpetual hangovers! My upstairs neighbor and I (her husband is in Iraq until next March)decided to skip our usual Friday night Stammtisch, or regulars table at the bar with the other wives, and go to a movie at the Army theater. Van Helsing, with Hugh Jackman. And several hundred young soldiers, most of whom surreptiously brough beer in their backpacks. Then back here to sit on her balcony and drink - ready? - Lambrusco! With a screw top! My GOD, the stuff I'll drink when it's offered. The above is to explain my somewhat maudlin post in comments. My husband called at 0200 in the morning in about the same shape on Belgian beer. He's on a Battlefield Tour in France and Belgium until Sunday with the other officers. He's moving soon to Purbright (sp?) about 30 ks north of London. In your area? If so, I will bring you a Weissbier.

Posted by: Oda Mae at May 29, 2004 08:47 AM (S5nda)

28 Oda Mae-do you mean Pirbright? That's lterally down the way from us in Whitney Houston! Pylorns-the only mail I got was asking my to advertise Survivor, which I did. Or...?

Posted by: Helen at May 29, 2004 08:44 PM (MlyOS)

29 Yes, Pirbright. Not much good at spelling, sorry. And I guess it's not North of London either. Glad to know we can maybe meet for a drink if I come over to visit him. He'll probably be in the Officer's Mess, so it's easier for him to come here, but I travel every once in a while just to get a picture of where he lives and works.

Posted by: Oda Mae at May 30, 2004 02:24 PM (7REFH)

30 Hey Helen I have nothing to say on this topic so i'm not going to. Instead what I will say is that i love your writing. You have such a talent for expressing emotion that i never thought would be possible. I am in awe, of your writing, your readers and everything you manage to get through in your life. On a completely different note I would love to have Luuka come stay with me at Uni, i feel it would be an interesting experience! The student lifestlye is one not to be missed! Plus she's coped with my bro in Jersey, I'm sure she'll be able to cope with students in Durham! All the best sweet pea. Waiting for the next post eagerly, moving house is a pain and a comedy moment all at the same time! AxXx

Posted by: Lemurgirl at May 30, 2004 06:49 PM (kZzM5)

31 Helen, I love your site, but you have to know that, when you open your life and your relationships to people on the Internet, people are going to say rude comments about your SO. Stuff they'd never say in person. I agree with you that they shouldn't do that, but...I don't really see how you can put a stop to it without making commenters register or don't post about Mr. Y anymore. (I really love the honesty of this blog, so I hope you don't do that! I admire you, because I could never be honest about my relationships on my site. I'm way too scared about what my husband would say or what other people would post in their comments.)

Posted by: dawn at May 31, 2004 04:00 AM (JY26p)

32 I know this is a little off topic, but as I was scrolling through the comments, I noticed one about Luuka. Whatever happened to that bear. You used to post pictures of Luuk, and where he had been. Has your second bear bit the dust already? Or are reports of his death greatly exaggerated?

Posted by: Jiminy at June 01, 2004 04:01 PM (+ddDv)

33 I sent you another one.. hmm...

Posted by: pylorns at June 02, 2004 03:13 PM (FTYER)

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The first time it happened I was on the elliptical trainer at the gym moving in silent swishy silence on the fast path to nowhere. Music streamed directly into the seashells of my ears and the sweat swam a stream down the crown of my hairline, my cheeks pink and shoulders ribbed.

On my mind was the Seagull, the sister-in-law, the invisible duct tape over my heart and the more visible tape over my broken heart. Rattling around in my brain were the shattered fragments of my sanity and my hopes, making clink-y chipped china sounds with every whisper of the exercise equipment. In the long and dozy vowels of the country that I had chosen to make my home, I was dripping parts of me out onto the pavement with every step I took, the tonic of my home country an antidote that would never work to a disease I could not identify.

There was something that happened then, some chance, some moment. It was the moment I had been waiting for, the moment that I needed and yearned for in the darkness of my Kafka moments. Some inner part of me suddenly broke and the good girl in me finally gave way. She finally imploded, exposing the animal that has been inside of me all along. A strong woman brought to my knees by sex, by the tangy taste of lust and the bitterness of deeply desired love. A woman chained to the missing memories of childhood, of adolescent responsibility I never asked for, of adult responsibility that sifted through my fingers with a parade of men that took me, soaked up the mess of their love and twisted my heart like a rag that had soaked it up to dry.

The good girl vanished and the inner banshee came screaming out.

And oh my God, I have never felt anything like that before.

Looking into the glass ahead of me, past the sheltered the cool green of the racecourse, I slipped out of my tightly controlled veil of sanity and my mind started screaming the outrages that I have been imposed upon me, that I have suffered, that I have metered out, and that life has thrown my way. The mantle of gentle reluctance of my entire lot in life slid right off my shoulders, pooling on the stone floor of the church as the harlot came forth and refused to wash any feet of anyone who came before her.

I was furious.

I was fighting back, and in my mind a thousand screams came into my mind, all blistering to the top of my mind all at once and all demanding the tightening of my throat, the pull of air across the muscles to produce the sound I needed to make a difference, to make it happen, to make it visible.

I felt my head slide backwards and the arch of my throat bulge with words I wanted to say, but prudence stepped in and snapped my neck back into position. Not the time or the place, Helen. Keep it to yourself.

The lid went back on. The good girl picked up the superglue and put herself back together, the banshee pacing back and forth behind the glass of myself, knocking on the window, testing on the shards.

But it happened again today on the train ride home. It had been a long day, having to hurtle myself across the country again for a meeting, over 6 hours on the train alone, and that's not including the meeting itself and my "I feel fat day". Sitting on the train again I felt the banshee, the angry me, the one who wanted out banging on the glass so hard that the spider web of superglue finally gave in, and she was free.

And in the window of the train, I saw myself sitting there calmly looking out the window, watching the green landscape go by, face long and deep, eyes digging holes through the glass. But I looked farther and saw the inner me, raw and ragged on the edge of a cliff, face raised to the sky screaming her anger at life, at god, at all the real and perceived hurts I have known and the ones that I can't recall, and I let it all out.

The lid has been blown off. The glass broken. Of course, by the time I got off the train it was fixed again. Only, it didn't stay shut again. This morning-heightened with love by a night of passion, good advice on my blog on how to deal with the sister-in-law, and giddiness from moving into Whitney Houston today, I took the train in. A text message from Mr. Y sent me hurtling to earth again, my wings clipped and my heart aching-his ex-wife doesn't want me near their kids. At all.

I fell to earth in a screech.

But then I came to life. Out of fear, out of having had enough, out of being on teh edge of suicide again, on the edge of running away, on the edge of locking myself in bed, I don't know. I need to survive. I don't need to be Life's Bitch anymore. And I find a fire and anger and bubble in my veins, propelling me to stand up, propelling me to try, propelling me to not just take it anymore.

Maybe it will pass and I will fall down again.
But at least I would've tried.

Now the lid isn't on tightly enough, and things are leaking out, thirty years of rubbish, thirty years of good, things that were better-left-unsaid, things that should have been said better, and things that should have been said but I simply couldn't find my voice.

If you didn't want kids, you shouldn't have had them.
Don't tell me to shut up-I have a right to be heard and my problems to be addressed.
How is it that you know so much about me? Will you always protect me, now that you know?
I'm sorry, Mom.
You don't get to lecture me about my life unless you tell me about your life, too!
You're the only one that I want to grow old with.
Are you coming home tonight? Will I be up all night waiting for you again?
I miss you.
This is the happiest moment of my life so far. Can we make more?
Don't call me fat. Don't call me Dog Breath. In fact, don't call me at all.
I love you so much that sometimes I can't even find words to tell you how much you mean to me.
Sometimes I wish I had succeeded last January.
You're my friend-act like it!
I don't think I can live without you. And if it turns out that I can, I simply don't want to.
This is me! Look at me! Listen to me! For Christ's sake, at least fucking listen if you want to know so much about me!
I am so sorry.
You broke my heart.
You know what? I don't need this. My life is better off without you!
Stop stalking me. Now. You don't get to take away my peace of mind.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Don't abuse my trust...you're the only one that has it.
No, I didn't drive you to hitting me, and if you ever do it again I am going to call the fucking police!
The only thing in the world that I want is to be loved, and needed.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:25 AM | Comments (30) | Add Comment
Post contains 1265 words, total size 7 kb.

Long sidetrack from yesterday's post- let me tell you about the weekend I just had.

It started off as a weekend with watching TV, relaxing, and maybe buying some sticks of furniture for the new place.

It ended up with a laugh, a sore ass, and a 32 inch plasma TV.

These things happen.

Friday afternoon Mr. Y blipped me a text message asking if I wouldn't mind skipping the Friends and beer and pizza routine. He had made other plans for us, in fact, and would I be interested? A short argument and a huffy time later, and we are in the car, bound for a bed and breakfast in Bristol. We arrive in said bed and breakfast a little bit cranky, but one look at the bathroom in our room (we were staying in the Hotel Du Vin, click to see a pic of the fabulous showers)-and we were in love all over again (with each other, not just the hotel). One whole wall was taken up with a glass and tiled shower, with a shower head the size of an earnest hubcab. It was like bathing in a hot waterfall, with enough room to have a whole host of people bathe with us.

We had some wild monkey loving, then went out for a spicy Moroccan meal, followed by beer. This was done on the waterfront with the cops around, jiggling their hands in their kevlar vests looking nervous, so we bought a bottle of crap red wine and went back to our room to drink in style.

The next morning wasn't so good. I was praying to the profound porcelain goddess, the victim of too much Kronenburg, too much red wine, or too much of a combination of the two of them. I haven't had such a bad hangover in ages. I spent my time trying the keep my screaming head from falling off, my guts from hitting the floor, and enjoyed a slow slithering crawl between the bathroom and the bed in the meantime.

A few hours of sleep, a very heavy and greasy McDonald's meal later (nothing cures a hangover like a greasy breakfast, once you can stomach the smell), and Mr. Y were on our way. We had decided to spend another night away from the boring flat in Newbury, and so we headed on our way to Wales.

You know. As one does.

The place we were staying at is in a little town called Clytha. We made our way there through winding roads, windows rolled down and humor high. We powered down the small B road behind an open topped car, the kind from the 1920's or so with the great open top and little tiny pop open back that supports a picnic basket. The kind that you expect the man to wear a leather skull cap and goggles while the woman next to him holds on to her hat, with its long chiffon scarf, and attempts to look delicate. Of course, it prompted both Mr. Y and I to start singing "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" at the top of our lungs. We kept going through the verses (he more so than I, he actually saw the film in the theatre as a kid and remembers more of it, whereas I saw it on Encore a few years ago). We overtook the little put-put car after a while, our singing trailing through the open windows as the Alfa zoomed past.

"Our FINE four FEN-dered FRIEeeeeeeeeend!" out the car window, off-key and embarrassing.

Now, in an attempt to be the cute chick I've always wanted to be, I was wearing my city summer combat gear-short flirty skirt, flip-flop sandals, and sleeveless T-shirt, Kate Spade bag at the ready. We decided to pull over and have a little view at the Welsh countryside.

Actually, I'm lying. We decided to pull over and initiate Wales in the same way that we intiated Scotland, only this time we didn't have a ski lift.

We parked the car and started hiking, me in my cute outfit, Mr. Y carrying a thick fleece blanket. We hiked through farming country, surrounded in some areas by spray-painted soggy sheep and curious but edgy lambs. Hiking to near the top of the hill, we spread the blanket down, huddled together for warmth, and got to the business of welcoming Wales into our portfolio of places where we have had fabulous al fresco sex.

It worked.

Repeatedly.

Afterwards, we laughingly assembled our clothes, all messy hair and wrinkled clothes, pinked cheeks and sweet smell of sweat. I decided to be cheeky (pun intended) and forgo putting my underwear back on. I figured-summer city combat gear must surely include for not wearing knickers, and for teasing lovely boyfriends. So I slipped them into my bag and we headed back down the hills.

Only I hadn't planned to be hiking up hills. I had planned for city wear, so my footwear was about as unsuitable for walking down hills as a chocolate tea kettle. We were hiking down, halfway there, when the unthinkable happened.

Oh yeah. Surely you can guess it.

I slipped and wound up sliding halfway down the hill on my bare ass, skirt rucked up around my waist, my butt a surf board riding a wave down a crest of dead bracken, thick grass, and fossilized sheep droppings.

When I finally came to a stop, the wheezy laugh that was Mr. Y came to assist me, and he helped me down the hill. Naturally, once I let go of his hand to assert my independence (I can do this myself, but thank you!), I slid down another hill, exacerbating my annoyance. He has henceforth promised to notify me if any of our weekends away will include what we now call Sheep Shit Excursions, the type of excursions that will see some hiking action in boggy territory, the type where my red-painted toes will want to be covered up.

We got to the Welsh B&B and noticed right away, there was a dog lying smack dab in the middle of the road in front of it. We pulled in carefully around him, but we needn't have bothered-he wasn't going to move anyway. It was rather the hallmark of that B&B-they had masses of animals. In the backyard, a pointer chased some chickens. The setter lay in the road. A German Shepherd took up the front seat of the jeep that the B&B owner thoughtfully would leave open for him to sleep in. A retriever wheezed his way around the pub benches. It was chaos. I loved it.

We checked in, and if the proprietor noticed the twigs in my hair or the amazing grass stain running up my legs and disappearing under my skirt, he thoughtfully didn't comment.

We had a lovely evening, after a long bath, a great meal, and snuggling in the bed, and then we headed back into England. Along the way back into Bristol, Mr. Y suggested looking into a shop called "Richer Sounds" to see their prices on TVs. Richer Sounds is a strange place-their shops are small and a bit chaotic, the queues are usually long, but the staff are very clever and are quick to negotiate with you. Much soul-searching later, and we decided.

We are the proud new owners of a 32 inch plasma TV for our new place.

And I am still against wearing underwear.

-H.

PS-Here's Wales. Lovely, eh? And that little plateau you see jutting out?

Yup. We spread a blanket out and had sex on it.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 05:20 AM | Comments (16) | Add Comment
Post contains 1290 words, total size 7 kb.

1 I love going al-fresco. You just gotta watch for ants, here!

Posted by: melanie at May 26, 2004 05:44 AM (jDC3U)

2 Good for the both of you... . Miguel.

Posted by: msd at May 26, 2004 10:39 AM (VusyZ)

3 I'm sorry but I giggled madly when I read about you falling down the hill, because that's exactly the kind of thing that would happen to me. Sounds like you had a lovely weekend!

Posted by: Melissa at May 26, 2004 10:54 AM (i9VPc)

4 Fabulous. Sounds like a great weekend. And you even got to sing Chitty, Chitty, bang-bang! Too bad about the hangover, of course.

Posted by: Random Penseur at May 26, 2004 11:07 AM (X3Lfs)

5 It does sound like you had a wonderful weekend, barring the slides down the hills, that is. I'm so jealous... that photo is beautiful!

Posted by: amber at May 26, 2004 01:23 PM (iJZeQ)

6 That's all well and good but what about pictures of the TV?

Posted by: Paul at May 26, 2004 03:04 PM (xdj7o)

7 so cool! my mom's family is from wales. someday i hope to go there and initiate it myself. ;-)

Posted by: kat at May 26, 2004 03:14 PM (FhSIP)

8 I want one! Ben, in Texas

Posted by: Ben at May 26, 2004 03:30 PM (OCOSb)

9 How sweet!

Posted by: Courtney at May 26, 2004 03:50 PM (AJMxi)

10 Haven't laughed so hard in a long time!:-) Thank you!

Posted by: Roger at May 26, 2004 05:02 PM (8S2fE)

11 Sounds like you had a lovely time.

Posted by: Sue at May 26, 2004 05:43 PM (b/7hi)

12 i dont know what i love more, al fresco shagging or hotal du vin's! i have only ever eaten in one though, not stayed in one poor me! abs x

Posted by: abs at May 26, 2004 07:13 PM (3NegW)

13 You're a tease :-( The intro (third sentence) made me think we were finally going to get a spanking story but it ended up being a hiking/sliding board story. Well it was still a well written piece as usual. And you're in Wales at the right season. I got stuck there in the autumn when it rains 24/7. And you were right to eat at Mickey Dee's. It's slightly better than Welsh food. Have you been to a restaurant in Wales and seen faggots on the menu? (And before I get flamed, no I'm not talking about the waiter or being a homophobe!)

Posted by: Steve P at May 27, 2004 12:39 AM (KvWin)

14 Good call on the location to go al fresco. What a spectacular view!

Posted by: boots at May 27, 2004 02:34 AM (Hx1qJ)

15 Okay, am I living in an alternate universe? Didn't I read this three days ago? Hmmm. You're confusing me, might need to stop reading in the morning and switch to the afternoon when I'm more alert.

Posted by: Oda Mae at May 27, 2004 06:12 AM (aZjpA)

16 City combat gear... Flip skirt, check, sleevless top, check, sandals? no no no my dear, 6 hole Doc Martins make the outfit. Besides, think of the usefullness whe it comes to proping them up on they Seagulls desk when you finally decide to tell him what he is worth =) Next trip for me, Wales with a camera, heh

Posted by: Dane at May 27, 2004 08:59 AM (ncyv4)

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And just like that, the other shoe drops.

At work I am up against the Useless Consultants. I have to battle one on a regular basis, one I have nicknamed the Seagull-he flies in, makes a lot of noise, shits all over everything, and flies back out again. The problem is, he's winning, mostly since I simply don't want to engage in the battle.

Then Mr. Y and I are dealing with the pain of moving house, trying to inspection test and import his Swedish car, and of me desperately trying to reach my pathetic roots out and just plant some down. To make something happen, to grow in whatever fetid soil will have me. If I can't ground myself, will little parts of me simply float away? After a lifetime of nomadic wanderings, I just want to hold still, for just a moment, and figure out what I want to be when I grow up.

Yesterday Mr. Y got an email from his sister-in-law, having a go at him about the fact that his family is in the dark about his decision and thoughts about his marriage, about me, about his choices. That they want to be kept informed of the whys, the hows, the what-are-you-thinkings?

Ironically, this is a mirror image of what has happened with my family. We are estranged now, adrift in two different continents and with 30 years of minor bumps and cuts, emotional abrasions and sentimental blood clots. I was happy to tell them what was happening, only they didn't ask. In return, I admit, I would've told them what was happening, but the whys, the hows, the what-are-you-thinkings? Those are my issues, issues which I keep close to my chest. And gee-if my family aren't prepared to tell me their side of things, why am I forced to tell them my side?

The mail also hinted to what I had feared and worried about-that I was not accepted, not so popular, and even intrusive perhaps. That people perhaps feel they can't talk to Mr. Y when I am around, and they don't know what role I have in his life anyway. And just like that, the ideal is dead-it turns out I wasn't being welcomed and accepted.

I was being politely tolerated.

I don't know where to go from here. On this little island of 60 million people, I am feeling more and more isolated all the time. I am not sure how to next face his family now, knowing what I know about these mails, and I know that this hesitancy will only grow in me the "seperateness" that is akin to the kind his family has with his stepmother, and I don't want it to be like that. I don't want to be the Stepmonster, the Ice Queen, the Home Wrecker. I want to be Helen, to be me, to be someone that they can talk to. I want to try-for one of the first times in my life-to reach out and get to know people without the lies and hiding of myself. But I already feel stung by this, and the allergy of the sting is harsh indeed.

I tried to tell Mr. Y about how the email made me feel, only I went about it all wrong and it turned into another late-night row. I tried to tell him how I felt and I wanted him to understand or acknowledge how this made me feel, but instead the argument went global, I wasn't clear about things, and I brought out the party bag of angst I am feeling. I should indeed share the angst I am feeling. I should not pull out the pinata during a discussion about something else.

I've apologized, but the reluctancy is still there. When I tried to turn over in bed last night and hug him, guilt welling out of my eyes and my arms aching for a friend, I could tell he didn't really want to be touched, so I retreated back to my side of the bed and we did the Official No-Fly Zone, where a body part in the DMZ will add up to a border control skirmish.

I am one big emotional paper cut.

I am so fucking tired. I am back to not being able to sleep, and when I do sleep, I have Kafka. Last night I welcomed dozing after 2 sleeping tablets, and only got rewarded to Kafka dreams in which his family is pushing me off the back of an ocean cruiser in the middle of the deep blue sea. I know they're only dreams. I know I am just paranoid. I just wish I could wake up feeling refreshed.

Maybe I half want to find something tangible to hurt about, to resort to the oven, to starvation, to alcohol, but I know that I could never find a good enough explanation, I know that's not the right thing to do, so I will just let others hurt me for me. It's easier that way.

I guess you can take the girl out of the U.S., out of Sweden, and out of Company X, but you can't take her out of her mind. I'm still in there. Although these days, the splits I have been having are more severe-I no longer stand at the doorway watching myself, I can't even see myself. It's like I shrugged, figured I would go for popcorn, and walked away from the movie of myself in boredom or disgust.

The other shoe has dropped, and what a terrific noise it has made.

-H

PS-If you have stopped by here due to this ongoing rant about feminazis from THOSE PEOPLE, then please read this first. Or read any of my archives. There is no such thing as a feminazi to me, and please accept that I will not ever believe there is such a creature. When all of this ridiculous furor has died down, maybe I will explain my comments about this topic, but not until the finger pointing and "Raise My Hit Counts" posts have died down. I started this blog as a way to try to talk, I did not start it to set the blog world on fire with trash talking and petty martyrdom. And if you have sent me a mail demanding answers and I haven't replied? I am not going to, I can't be bothered, frankly, to perpetuate a discussion I was never allowed to take part in in the first place.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:07 AM | Comments (32) | Add Comment
Post contains 1087 words, total size 6 kb.

1 Helen, You never expected them to welcome you with open arms, and it would have been foolish to do so. Most people do not welcome or like change and that is what you are to them. You are something new thrown into a mix that was comfortable and pleasing to them. Sadly, it really has nothing to do with your character and everything to do with you being someone besides the mother of Mr Y's children. They WILL get over it, they will grow past it and they will eventually become comfortable with you. It's sad that they don't put Mr.Y's happiness before their own greed and comfort, but it isn't surprising. Stay the course, work through it with him and they will come around. You'll give them no choice. Take care of you,

Posted by: Heather at May 25, 2004 10:54 AM (JaoWm)

2 I reacted very strongly to this post today and I'm sorry that you've hit a rough patch. No one wants to be tolerated, but, perhaps the sister in law is speaking only for herself and not for the whole family. Perhaps you've rubbed her the wrong way. If so, fuck her. I suggest that if you are unhappy at home and at work right now, you ought to consider fighting a little harder at work against the seagull. If he is not there all the time perhaps you can undo his damage when he's not around. I hope this made sense, no coffee yet. Best of luck, I really feel for you.

Posted by: Random Penseur at May 25, 2004 11:08 AM (X3Lfs)

3 Heather-I didn't expect it, but I did indeed want that, I confess. I must add that a few of my family members have had a go at Mr. Y, too-and they've never even met him. I defended him, but I know that this is all a matter of time and acceptance. He is up against nearly 5 years of memory of X Partner Unit, and I am up against 18 years of his ex-wife. All that, and I am not patient enough for chess. Sheesh. Random-I too am beginning to wonder if I should try to do some wing clipping. But I have been up against this group before, and it's like knocking your head against a wall it's that much fun (and that easy). But I am beginning to feel the itch in my fingers to just sit down, finish a fucking novel for once, and see where I can go from there.

Posted by: Helen at May 25, 2004 11:11 AM (8qowm)

4 I agree with Heather...people just don't handle changes very well. Give it some time and just be yourself. If the can't accept you the way you are, they don't deserve you anyways. Plant some of those fragile roots and see how it feels.

Posted by: croxie at May 25, 2004 11:18 AM (2X0yZ)

5 Croxie-I had to write a few emails in Swedish yesterday, and boy did it whip me (plus I don't have the right keyboard anymore!)

Posted by: Helen at May 25, 2004 11:20 AM (8qowm)

6 I'd love to see a novel from you! You strike me as creative and you can write. Still, with respect to wing clipping, there's nothing like fighting the good fight to get the juices flowing!

Posted by: Random Penseur at May 25, 2004 12:48 PM (LlPKh)

7 I was thinking along the same lines as Random. Don't take the sister's opinion as being from the whole family. From what you've written that second meeting with Mum was quite better than tolerating and if your description of the interaction with the menfolk was anywhere near accurate they're definitely at least fond of you, probably more than that. Trust your instincts about how your relationship with each of them is going. Don't group them all together and don't take the opinions of one family member as an indication of group think. Continue to charm their socks off and you'll do just fine. After all, who in their right minds could resist you? ;-) As for the Toits - fuck 'em. After a lengthy discourse with the Mrs I can state unequivocally that that corner of the Humanosphere is a write-off.

Posted by: Jim at May 25, 2004 12:48 PM (IOwam)

8 Helen, Its early in your relationship (at least to his family it is) and perhaps it is unrealistic to expect them to immediately embrace you. Time will tell, and in the meanwhile just keep being yourself: pleasant, open, and honest, and in the long run they will come around or they won't. It really isn't your problem what they might think of you as long as everyone can be adult and polite when need be. It may not be perfect, but there's nothing particularly wrong with it either. Concentrate on those kids. They're the ones that do matter.

Posted by: Betsy at May 25, 2004 01:39 PM (hvXG4)

9 I 'm late for work--forgot to set the alarm--but I wanted to say something here. Polite tolerance is the best you could have hoped for here. Y's family is still unsure what's going to happen. Is this a temporary rift with his wife? Are you the transition girl? They don't know. Only time will tell them. Just hang in there. You'll be fine. I really do have more, but I have to run! Oh, and to anyone who surfed in as a result of the flame wars -- Helen is most definitely not a feminazi. She has her own opinions and convictions, which is how it should be.

Posted by: Easy at May 25, 2004 01:39 PM (oQKRL)

10 I had a good friend who brought his current girlfriend around to a very close family type of gathering. It might seem appropriate in some circumstances, but this was the type of gathering where we didn't bring casual significant others. She showed up in an outfit that looked like she was going clubbing. I took an instant dislike to her. Months went by and he never really bothered to make the effort to have his best friends know her (he's not longer my friend by the way). One day, when he was away at school, I saw her at a club and decided to bite the bullet and try. I didn't want to really. But I just thought I should. Within 2 months she was one of the best friends I could ever hope to find. I guess what I'm trying to say is that alot of times, it's hard to really care when you have baggage with someone new. There are two things that can happen here. One, you will forever tolerate "some" of them because let's face it, you can't love and want to spend time with everyone in Mr. Y's family and friends circle. Two, eventually they'll get to know you, you'll get to know them. And they will be your friends and family too. Give it time and don't be so hard on yourself hon.

Posted by: Existentialwolf at May 25, 2004 01:50 PM (tqQaS)

11 Don't. Don't. Don't. Well, just DON'T. You can't let words from someone else shape how you feel about yourself. Sinister in Law (on purpose) doesn't know you and only wants to hurt you so you will go away. Don't fall into her trap. It is so much easier to point a finger at someone else than it is to admit that maybe two people just can't get along. They obviously were not getting along before you got there or they wouldn't have split up. None of his family have had a chance to really get to know you so how does she know how they feel about you???? She is just stirring up shit. Don't let her drive the wedge in. Just Don't!!

Posted by: Karen at May 25, 2004 02:02 PM (tWdSj)

12 Karen-desperately trying, but I tend to base how I view myself on how others view me. So when someone takes me down a peg, I take myself down, too. By the way-I loved the book. And I bought her new one, which just came out, and am happy to send it on to you when I am done. Let me know!

Posted by: Helen at May 25, 2004 02:04 PM (8qowm)

13 Helen, if you have to judge yourself by how others see you, why are you not taking the blog readers into account? I would think that Jim alone would fill up whatever lack there is in the self-esteem caused by the e-mails. Much less everyone else. Including me.

Posted by: Jiminy at May 25, 2004 02:24 PM (+ddDv)

14 Ouch. Honey, I'm so sorry that this is happening. It sounds contrite, but hang in there. The only thing that is going to help with the family situation is time. Don't be the Interloper, be the Long-Haul Girl. With the recent (at least to his family) breakup and everything, by sticking around, and unfortunately bearing the brunt of their barbs, you will show them that you're there because you really want to be there. I don't remember if I read it or not, but do you have a therapist in England yet?

Posted by: amber at May 25, 2004 02:25 PM (iJZeQ)

15 Could this have been her not-so-discreet way of testing Mr. Y's feelings? Is it possible that she wasn't attempting to push you away, but to cautiously test her brother's intentions? Could she be simply too "English" to have voiced some of her concerns to the both of you? (I only put that in quotes because the only English people I knew were "too proper" to speak ill to someone in public and therefore thought the appropriate method of verifying (or not) their information was to go behind the back of the person in question and talk to everyone else.) If that's the case, then maybe Mr. Y was as upset at her methods as you were but unable to express it. Then when finding himself questioned he became insecure about his family's importance to him? That doesn't make it ok, but if there were a reason for his reaction wouldn't it make it more understandable? I'm saddened to read your writing about this incident as though it's the beginning of the end for you two. I think grown-up relationships are the hardest to maintain, because of the level of intimacy you must allow. And it doesn't come overnight. Communication and understanding what your partner really means can be difficult forever. But they don't have to spell disaster. Sometimes all it takes is another approach, or maybe just some time alone to reflect on words that could have been better chosen. Which brings me to writing. You are very good at expressing your feelings in writing. How about if next time you're feeling insecure about events or where you stand you start writing? Not necessarily here, because it's too open for feelings still in process between you, but maybe a letter or a special off-line file you could both add to. Sort of like a 2-person diary. You could write out your insecurities before voicing them, he could read them before reacting to them, and you both might enjoy the time to think about your feelings about what was written before actually discussing it together. Later, when you're old and gray together, you can open it up and reflect on how far you've come and the obstacles you had to leap to get there. You deserve to get what you want, and you're worth much more than the value you allow other peoples' opinions to create for you. (Sorry for the novel, here.)

Posted by: Lisa at May 25, 2004 02:28 PM (uxfbz)

16 Hey Helen, Just hang in there. The only opinions that count re: your relationship with Mr. Y are yours and his. If his family isn't welcoming now, perhaps they will be later. If not later, than yes, you will have a harder time than if they wrap their arms around you and give you a hug; in that case you'll just have to work harder to show the world the strength of your couplehood. But most important is how you feel about him, how he feels about you and how you can work together, and be there for each other. Good luck with the move. And yes, I came because of the Mrs. Du T....I agree about the last name thing...I hate it when people call me Mrs. A. Glad to have found your writing though... be well, Rachel Ann

Posted by: Rachel Ann at May 25, 2004 02:47 PM (xC835)

17 hang in there darling. you've gone through so much transition, so much newness, so much period, that it's no big surprise that there's a bit of fallout. just hang on. you're doing great. really. you'll weather this storm and the next and the next. xoxoxo and i don't know what this feminazi crapola is about, but it sounds like a royal pain in the arse. ignore em.

Posted by: kat at May 25, 2004 02:56 PM (FhSIP)

18 H, It's hard when people form opinions of you (and your character) before even giving you a chance to give them an accurate impression of what a good person you are. I didn't expect any ringing endorsements from any of the women in Y's family. I don't know if the sister-in-law speaks for everyone, just for all the ladies, or just herself. Don't lose sleep over things you can't change. Keep being true to yourself and to Y and if they're smart they'll come around otherwise chuck 'em. No, not Y! In regards to the asshat consultants... Don't let him/them diminish what've you've accomplished so far and what you're capable of accomplishing on behalf of Dream Job in the future! Perhaps you are the target of a diabolical conspiracy plan hatched between the sister-in-law and Seagull. Silly birds. Chin up, little flame. Just because everyone doesn't see the value in you doesn't mean the rest of the world is blind as well.

Posted by: Paul at May 25, 2004 02:57 PM (xdj7o)

19 Hehe...keyboards and Swedish can be a mess. Do what I do, just use 'a' and 'o' instead of åä and ö and let the receiver figure out what is what The worst part for me is to switch the way of thinking so it won't sound stupid. It's kinda embarrassing to sound like a foreigner in your native country *grin* Hope your day is going okiday

Posted by: croxie at May 25, 2004 02:57 PM (eyt8e)

20 I can't really add anything to the excellent comments you've received about this already. I wish I could, but everyone's right: It's just going to take time, and what animosities don't resolve over time will say far more about what kind of people they are than they ever will about you. Let them own that, and don't hold yourself responsible for how they feel.

Posted by: ilyka at May 25, 2004 04:02 PM (wpP49)

21 True, many good comments here. Only one person can decide.... and that's you. While other's comments may be helpful, you can live only one person's life, and that's your life. Do what your heart tells you to do. IMO, Mr. Y is not yet commited to the relationship... maybe you need time on your own, in your own place, to find out who you are. These are my thoughts, not yours... so listen to your own heart. Good luck : )

Posted by: Annette at May 25, 2004 04:08 PM (ck8KI)

22 It was inevitable, Helen. This kind of ‘tectonic’ shift in families doesn’t just rumble and realign without notice. When the players in the script of a family’s life change, without notice, the rest of the ‘cast’ has to shift and shuffle and try to figure out what happened. To the extent they are not informed, they will fill the void with conjecture. Put their own spin on things. Create ‘plugs’ for the hole in the fabric of the family. Mr Y’s family had a long-term relationship with the ex Ms Y. Regardless of how close or how distant they were with her, she was a known quantity. Suddenly, she’s no longer a part of their clan. Everybody looks around to see if anyone else knows why? Lots of shoulder-shrugging., No official updates or explanations from Mr Y. Folks kept in the dark, not given the opportunity to ask questions, proffer their opinions, assimilate the new information get edgy -- feel disrespected. It doesn’t matter whether it’s rational or not – that’s the way human beings operate. Scene 2: A replacement person (you) is brought into the family constellation. They have no idea who this person is, have had no opportunity to hear about her in preparation for meeting her. They’re still trying to figure out what happened to the known-player (ex-Ms.Y) while simultaneously being expected to welcome the New Player to the family bosom. Still no opportunity to question or vent. It’s classic. As long as Mr Y fails to invite his family to ask their questions, listen to his explanations, hear him ask for their understanding of what underlies this abrupt change in his life, it’s going to sit on the family table like a huge pile of steaming dung. That, up to now, no one had the courage to point to and say, “Doesn’t anybody notice that there’s a pile of dung on our table?! Isn’t anyone going to try to clean it up?!” Mr Y’s family was being well-mannered and ‘proper’ when you were introduced to them. That event was all about ‘social grease’ – it had nothing to do with genuine acceptance and affection. You know that. It’s what polite people (dazed and confused though they may be) do. The genuine connection that you so badly wanted to occur at the get-go is very likely to happen in time. The operant word here is ‘time’. You cannot demand that these people shift their loyalties so cavalierly in order to relieve your trepidation and sense of alienation. Your feelings are spot on: You *are* the alien. Relax. That’s not a Bad Thing. It’s perfectly rational, reasonable. It will change over time . . . as you develop your own reputation with his family as a person they can trust and respect. That connection is not your entitlement – it’s earned. Consider the possibility that given that Mr Y and you are the agents of this significant change in his family, it is the two of you who will need to be extremely flexible in helping his family adjust. You need to be the rubber bands here. It is unfair to expect his family to make the difficult accommodations. They didn’t get a vote on this. They don’t have the advantage of the heady emotions that propelled you and Mr Y into your ‘merger’. It will require much patience on your part, Helen. It is not walking into a store and buying a candy bar. You are going to have to exist in a quiet corner, constant and approachable, giving them the time and space to come to acceptance – and ultimately the desire to ‘give’ you the candy bar. I’d wager that Mr Y’s SIL’s taking the lid off this Family Secret may be the best thing you could have hoped for? It stops the side-stepping, the dance of avoidance. I’m hoping Mr Y seizes the opportunity (yes, he has to do this WITHOUT you there) to give his kin the chance to understand. This isn’t about your ‘worthiness’. You are absolutely worthy of their respect, regard and maybe even their affection. It’s about the need for Mr Y to “take care of (family) business”. You can do this, Helen. You know how to take care of yourself. Stay focused and trust your inner wisdom. One step at a time . . . .

Posted by: Annie at May 25, 2004 04:08 PM (GsjEB)

23 *sigh* (((hugs))) I'm sorry. Remember tho that the email was from one person, not the whole family. And perhaps focus on creating a connection with just one member of the family?

Posted by: Ember at May 25, 2004 06:12 PM (GGF1c)

24 What Annie said - and then some! Why did he tell you about this e-mail? There was nothing you could do about it and it obviously hurt. There are some things you don't need to know. He should have handled it with the sis-in-law, who is also not the brightest bulb for sending it in the first place. (Top tip - try to avoid putting stuff like that in an e-mail. Better to make a poison phone call, no way to keep a copy and dwell on it.) You might want to give Mr. Y a break from the touchy-feely lets talk about how I FEEL at this moment stuff. Unless you get him drunk first. Men aren't into validation, to use another touchy-feely word, they're about problem solving. You need to make a good chick friend, and QUICK! By chick, I mean someone who can cuss, smoke and drink with you in emergencies. I'm available if you've got the airfare.

Posted by: Oda Mae at May 25, 2004 06:40 PM (GkksJ)

25 Seeing a doc, dearie?

Posted by: Courtney at May 25, 2004 07:34 PM (DQCeA)

26 I had to run off this morning, but I see that others have weighed in to say it. Annie said it best, so I won't elaborate. Remember, Time Wounds All Heels :-D

Posted by: Easy at May 25, 2004 07:49 PM (oQKRL)

27 I love your new picture. In my humble opinion it is the most flattering one to date. Plus, what's this - a sunny day in the U.K.? You should keep it up for a while.

Posted by: ALP at May 25, 2004 11:21 PM (lyoW9)

28 Have you tried burning the Seagull's home to the ground? That usually works.

Posted by: Jim at May 26, 2004 02:13 AM (k3+E/)

29 The new pic is indeed gorgeous. I can't believe you hate your haircut when it looks so cute on you. Then again, I've had hairdos that others liked while I personally loathed 'em. So, uh, never mind. But it is an adorable picture.

Posted by: ilyka at May 26, 2004 04:10 AM (+zTGX)

30 One can only help that LB's family has now entered the second stage of mourning. They've gotten through the anger and are now attempting to negotiate with him. Hopefuly in 6 months or so they'll ease their way into acceptance once they see that LB is happier with you than with his ex. Good luck :-)

Posted by: Steve P at May 26, 2004 04:52 AM (KvWin)

31 Thanks for the compliments on my new pic No doc yet, but one in sight after I move, that's for sure. And about the Seagull? I am gearing myself up. I amy not want to deal with him, but I am beginning to see that I have to. Without torching his place, that is

Posted by: Helen at May 26, 2004 05:19 AM (W0A5q)

32 Helen, dear, I apparently missed the uproar - I'll have to go read the Mrs. DuT's words, I guess - Doesn't matter whatever it is. Your new picture is absolutely gorgeous. Just darling. Your life will get better. I promise! Mr. Y's family will get over it. I know from experience, believe me! And I'm nowhere near as cute as you are. Just hang in there, sweetie.

Posted by: Beth Donovan at May 26, 2004 06:06 AM (iopXH)

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And the new look is courtesy of Jennifer. I absolutely love it and bow to her web superiority!

-H

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 03:31 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
Post contains 25 words, total size 1 kb.

1 Helen, Behind the Green Door. Ahem. Sorry.

Posted by: Paul at May 24, 2004 04:10 PM (xdj7o)

2 Clearly you are not the great and powerful Oz, Paul. He was behind the green curtain.

Posted by: Helen at May 24, 2004 04:17 PM (+Qiat)

3 I do like the new look, but I also really liked the old one. I'm not sure I like this one better... Then again, it's what YOU think that counts. =)

Posted by: Easy at May 24, 2004 05:27 PM (oQKRL)

4 I like!

Posted by: Roger at May 24, 2004 10:13 PM (8S2fE)

5 I LOVE that picture! I just wish the rest of the banner was blue to match the background OR, the background matched the rest of the banner. But I LOVE that picture!

Posted by: Serenity at May 24, 2004 11:36 PM (3g7Ch)

6 Dallas Stars colors. Ahem. But I am open to making any changes Helen wishes.

Posted by: Jennifer at May 25, 2004 12:06 AM (DumOR)

7 thumbs up on the new look....the opening of a door, how appropriate Helen. :-) Hugs, KJB

Posted by: KJB at May 25, 2004 06:17 AM (ekw4D)

8 Very very nice - the door is awesome (And I really like that picture of you too )

Posted by: Onyx at May 25, 2004 06:29 AM (G3591)

9 Dallas Stars colors. *Helen nods* That's why I love it even more. Jen used my Dallas Stars' colors.

Posted by: Helen at May 25, 2004 11:06 AM (8qowm)

10 I really like the new look!

Posted by: amber at May 25, 2004 02:20 PM (iJZeQ)

11 I love the update in your blog. Great photo, you look happy and alive.

Posted by: Kathleen at May 25, 2004 03:29 PM (d0X5o)

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It's 1:00 am.

And I can't sleep.

I know I usually post first thing in the morning, and only once a day, but here I am. Drifting between web pages, I find that the quiet of the living room is the comfort that I didn't seek. In a bedroom down the hallway is my Mr. Y, sticky from a bout of impromptu late-night loving, this incredible gift he has at being able to initiate and waking up halfway through in an act he calls "waking up having sex". And then he curls one arm around himself and one hand around my face and goes back to sleep.

But I can't sleep, and I am not sure why.

There is a bottle of wine I have in the cupboard, a bottle of white wine that I bought in Greece, on a little island called Naxos. This island is tiny and is only known for its wine, and the one special power that its wine has-according to the legend it can help heal a broken heart. I am not sure what possessed me to buy it two years ago but I knew that I could possibly want that venture someday. I knew that I would maybe want or need to have that white wine assistance, that value for the downtrodden. I bought it and carried it around with me in a backpack like a student packer, took it back to Sweden and now carried it over to England with me.

Mr. Y asked me earlier if he should dump the wine out, and I thought about it.

"No." I replied, my legs curled under me and the last of the day's sun coming in. "I may still need it someday."

"Why?" He asked, looking closely at me, bouncing in the rocking chair.

"Maybe someday you break up with me." I reply.

"But I have no plans to do so." He counters. "So why do you need the wine?"

I can tell that my words are being watched and measured. I can tell that I may be walking into a dangerous situation. All I know is-maybe someday I will need that wine. If you ask me honestly, I will tell you that I don't think we'll break-up. But a break-up with Mr. Y would be the break-up that I couldn't get over. And if I don't need the wine (and I truly think and hope I never will), then maybe I can pass it on to someone who does. By then maybe it will be old with age, like vinegar, something horrible. But maybe in the uncorking, the local legend will live, and a broken heart can be healed.

A little superstition can go a long way.

In terms of home, I find myself more and more adrift. I am officially divorced and half of my meager belongings are about to be moved into storage. The other belongings were taken to the tip by X Partner Unit, to be chewed down and mawed into something that has no claim to me anymore. My home is not in Sweden anymore, and I know that. I only wonder how long it will take before the Swedish begins to seep from my brain, no longer at my command for a shop exchange, a conversation, an Ingmar Bergmann film.

When I go back to the U.S. for holidays, I find that isn't home anymore either. I never lived in the house that my mother lives in. It was never mine. The bookshelves are filled with old books that I know of and new ones I don't. Furniture is spontaneously birthed in my absence, living situations change, and from time to time there is a new cat pouncing down the stairs, one which does not know me. The Dallas house I lived in with Kim is gone, as is the house I lived in alone. And although that's one place that I know how to do the logistics-hook up the electricity, order a weekend delivery of the newspaper, sign up for night school-I do not feel that Dallas is my home anymore. Which begs the question-is there anywhere in the U.S. that is my home now?

To which I honestly look into the mirror, into my weird and skitsy eyes, and say to the glass: I don't know.

And now I am moving into a new place with Mr. Y, a place that we will be renting for 6 months, a year. A place that we have to buy everything new for, as our previous lives and recycling bins claim what we have left behind. And because this place is just a resting place until we can decide where we want to live, where we want to work, what we want to be when we grow up, Mr. Y is not so eager to view it as his home, especially since we won't actually be owning the place. He has one leg in England, his mother country, and one leg in Sweden, where his children are, and I understand this and wish I could help him.

I am reluctant to say it, to label myself some kind of needy creature, but I think I view home as wherever he is. But I feel a bit that's not reciprocated due to the situation with renting and with his kids, which again I do understand, and so I draw the words back in, eager to prevent myself throwing too many cards on the table, reluctant to go a step further than the step he has taken.

Sometimes I feel like I am in a snow globe that is being perpetually shaken.

Right now, I really need a place to think of as home. For the first time in my life, I don't want to move around and ping off the boundaries of cities, states, and countries. I want to hold still, for just a minute. I want to belong to somewhere, not just to someone. I don't know if England is where I am going to be forever, but right now I need it to be where I am, to prove to myself that I am not crazy, to find a safe harbor where I can call home, where I can understand things, where I can seek shelter from the fucking hurricane that is my life and just enjoy a breeze with a man that I honestly love, a man who is holding the ropes that moor me to the dock and won't let them go.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 01:14 AM | Comments (19) | Add Comment
Post contains 1093 words, total size 6 kb.

1 No matter where you lay your head Munuvia will always be home in a way. Sleep well, little flame.

Posted by: Paul at May 24, 2004 01:53 AM (lBXRx)

2 Helen, I know exactly how you feel, and it's not a bad thing. Home, for me, is wherever Leslie and the kids are. It doesn't matter if it would be here, Sweden, Texas, or Middle-of-Nowhere Wisconsin. If they're there, it's fine by me. It's called love.

Posted by: Jiminy at May 24, 2004 02:06 AM (QjKFw)

3 It can be hard in a new place feeling like you can and want to put down roots. England is my birthplace if not my home right now, so take my birthright and claim a space for yourself! Stephen

Posted by: Stephen at May 24, 2004 02:18 AM (w/U8f)

4 Home can be in so many places and sometimes where you least expect it. A cafe. A park. Your car with the radio blasting. Your bed, no matter what dwelling it may reside in. In your loved ones arms. In the mirror.

Posted by: emily at May 24, 2004 05:01 AM (AO0sO)

5 Don't feel bad. It's endemic to the age. Modern "flexible work" demands you go where the work is, uproot every few years, go to Sweden, Hong Kong, Perth, wherever. You're not supposed to have feelings; You're a unit y'know. You probably have enough experience now to go into business for yourself. Just thought I'd throw that one in. Don't forget the babe/s. Only give them /him/her up for very worthwhile goals, like retraining as a chemist and discovering the cure for herpes. Otherwise, have'em. Babes really make you put down roots. And make real friends. I'm glad to see from your latest photo that you're a broadsheet reader!

Posted by: Helen at May 24, 2004 09:21 AM (Rp0Hr)

6 Give it some time. I've been moving around the globe a lot of times and in the end I forgot both where I came from and where I was going. It's like having a date with your own tail in many ways. Today I'm settled down here in the UK, still need to bring my things over, but it feels good and I don't have the need to be anywhere else. There are differences here that I like if you compare it to Sweden or US...and everything is a bit in between those two places. It suits me perfectly The word "home" has a nice ring to it and if I can find it, so can you. Home, hope and happiness...they all go hand in hand...it's "just" a matter of letting go of the fears of being hurt and enjoy it. Life is what happens while we make other plans, ya know....

Posted by: croxie at May 24, 2004 10:22 AM (huZb7)

7 First, I like your new picture. Second, if you love him, and you are building a new life together, do you feel at home yet? You seemed to address the issue of your feeling at home in the conditional. What condition hasn't been met yet for you to feel at home with him, putting aside all the issues about feeling normal in a new culture and not speaking Swedish in the chemists? Also, I love the new picture.

Posted by: Random Penseur at May 24, 2004 11:01 AM (X3Lfs)

8 I've moved alot, and I've found that wherever I've moved, when I unpack and put my books on shelves, then it is home. When you get into this new place, make a small part of it your sanctuary. Buy a comfy chair, surround yourself with things you love, make it your small peaceful oasis. In this place, do not have discussions, make love, argue or do anything but be alone and calm and quiet. When you get your cats, sit and have some snuggle time. Put up pictures you love, family photos, photos of people you love, make yourself a miniature zen garden to play with. Add a fountain, and plants, a few candles, and voila, you have home. And any time you move, you move this room first. And set it up again exactly as it is this time. Home will always be with you, and feelings travel well.....

Posted by: Donna at May 24, 2004 11:11 AM (hMNLJ)

9 Random-I guess I don't feel at home yet since he doesn't feel at home. I want to anchor myself somewhere, but I need my anchor to be certain of their placing, too. He doesn't feel like he's home, and so how can I? Maybe I am just making too big a deal out of this. Weird that after my former bohemian lifestyle-moving from flat to flat, city to city, and now country to country, I just want to hold still and think of somewhere as home, no matter how temporarily.

Posted by: Helen at May 24, 2004 11:20 AM (+Qiat)

10 My heart goes out to you, Helen. I can still remember that feeling, that hoping. I wanted a home too. I lived 4 places in 4 years with my anthropologist boyfriend, and even though I was just a stupid girl then and not a smart sassy career woman like you, I felt the same need. The best thing I ever did was buy this house for myself -- even though at the time I wasn't buying this house for me, it's just turning out that way. But where my place is empty of love with potential, your place isn't. You'll always have that with Mr. Y. Together you guys will make some wonderful house an even more wonderful home.

Posted by: Layne at May 24, 2004 11:23 AM (OanYw)

11 If home is with him, does it matter if he's not thinking of Whitney Houston as home? You can make it a home. And maybe he'll come to feel like it's his home too. After all, he'll be there

Posted by: melanie at May 24, 2004 12:15 PM (jDC3U)

12 I've moved around quite a bit, though always within the U.S. My friends have always been home to me, especially my best friend. She grounded me. When I met my husband that was it; at last I had a permanent home. We've moved 7 times in 11 years of marriage, but it's fine with me. Wherever he goes; that's my home. I love Donna's idea, too!

Posted by: pam at May 24, 2004 12:19 PM (l6NIn)

13 You need to find "home" within yourself, Helen...that's the trick and that is what can be so difficult. Home used to be where I had my belongings, but even the belongings have been spreaded out over the planet so that's not an achor either. It's more about feeling content since you can never move away from what's been...but you already know that. It's also about daring to let go and trust that things are what they seems to be. Look who's talking...hahah Anyways...I can't tell you what to do and what you need...only share what I know from myself and my own experiences. Moving used to be a lot easier when I was younger...today it's more difficult to adjust to changes. Old dogs ya know As for the language...if you want to keep it alive do what I do and keep in touch with people back there. I talk to my son on a regular basis, friends and my sis to keep it fresh...otherwise I know that I will lose it quickly and I won't have a native language anymore. I can always bug you with Swedish emails if that would help? *grin*

Posted by: croxie at May 24, 2004 12:33 PM (chnTS)

14 Your heart can break in so many other ways than just being dumped. Keep the wine.

Posted by: Existentialwolf at May 24, 2004 01:45 PM (tqQaS)

15 My denotation of "home" is: where one grew up or where one currently dwells. That may not align exactly with Webster, but it's probably close. My connotation of "home" is: the place where I'm safe and/or familiar. Even though I'm at home where ever my family is, I suppose I still associate it with a place (I combine the two definitions). I agree with Croxie in that "contentment" is the key. You can live someplace for 10 years and it still not be "home". Or you can move to a new city and immediately feel like you're "home". Discontentment breeds unrest, but contentment breeds peace and a feeling of "home".

Posted by: Solomon at May 24, 2004 02:21 PM (t5Pi1)

16 At least you have someone...

Posted by: pylorns at May 24, 2004 03:37 PM (FTYER)

17 Home is where you feel comfortable - where your heart tells you that you belong. Oh yeah, and maybe being in the snowglobe isn't a bad thing...

Posted by: Tami at May 24, 2004 03:55 PM (gj0ZL)

18 i don't think that's a strange need at all. i can definitely relate to the need to feel like you belong somewhere. it grounds you and lets you stretch yourself in other ways.

Posted by: kat at May 24, 2004 07:09 PM (QkuGS)

19 I know exactly what you mean. I think when you are trying to find yourself you have to get away from what and where you previously were. Honestly I am travelling to find myself and "grow" myself, but at teh same time I am a homebody and the moving and uprooting EVERYTHING every 3-4 months is tearing at me. I want a home but I am coming more and more to terms with the notion that home is where ever I decide I want it to be or that I am.

Posted by: stinkerbell at May 26, 2004 11:36 AM (IHvBP)

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A relationship is about constant compromise, evaluation, and acceptance that instead of the wants and desires of one person, there is another person that you must constantly be aware of, be thinking of, be taking into consideration.

And not just on the big issues-marriage, children (more on that one another day), and where to spend Christmas.

Oh no. I am referring to hobbies and interests.

That's where compromise really kicks in.

In some ways it's a bit easier to compromise on the bigger issues-we can live in this village, we can spend Christmas with your family, we can discuss children in an open manner. It's the little ones the require you to be vigilant. To know when you can make fun of something and when you can't. To know that you may spend several hours of your life in complete bored misery.

I'm talking about interests, basically.

If I were to define my interests, I would say that I like to pass my spare time reading, writing, cooking, or watching movies. Mr. Y's hobbies and fascinations include cooking (he makes a hell of a curry), lighting fixtures, electricity, bar codes and train stations.

In other words, the biggest hobby we have in common (besides a wild romp in the bed) is cooking.

Obviously, compromise is needed here.

I don't expect people to like and want the same things in terms of pasttimes-in fact, I think that's pretty boring. It's nice to learn something new from the cast of characters that life awards you. To use psychobabble, it's great to "broaden the horizons". But sometimes the horizons don't even match up.

On Friday nights, I want to have some monkey loving and then turn on the TV. I admit it. I want to eat pizza, drink beer, and watch "Friends" and "Will and Grace". It's my one salute to American TV that I still watch, and I love this little tradition. For Mr. Y, it means one hour of complete boredom. He doesn't see the point of the shows (and, rapidly, neither do I) and he likes to spend his time sliding into the living room in his socks, his arms outstretched a la Joey from "Friends" and expecting the laugh track to kick in.

Or with blogging. Although he reads my page daily, he's not interested in blogging. He doesn't really see the attraction or the point-he would rather have his fingernails removed than spend time writing, and that's ok-I never expected him to do so.

And in return I am trying to learn about his hobbies. The other night he spent hours looking up lighting websites to design the lights for our new place. He's decided it's going to be LED lights in the kitchen, and he was very excited about the sites he'd found. I read one over his shoulder, but it was like reading Greek. I didn't even understand half of the terms.

It's the same thing with what interests us on TV. Show me a documentary about the rate of social change within the Victorian era, and I'm yours. Show him an episode of "Top Gear", and he's eating out of your hand.

The other day, I had a thought. We drove by a power plant, and it occured to me that I actually didn't know how one worked. I asked Mr. Y about it.

"Well, you do know how electricity works, right?" he asked, one hand on the wheel.

Hmm. You've got me there. "You flick the switch, and voila!" I said, waving my hands about.

He looked at me in horror.

"Or, you walk on the carpet in stockinged feet!" I tried feebly, losing the hand waving.

His mouth dropped open in horror.

"Tie a key to a kite?" I asked meekly, hands firmly in lap.

It had honestly just never occured to me. I'm not interested in electricity. I don't really care where it comes from, as long as when I flick the switch on the wall I am immediately rewarded by a soothing glow of electric love.

I got an explanation.

I think I get it now.

It's the same if I try to explain something about history. I love history and philosophy, but perhaps we love different eras of it. I read "The Da Vinci Code", and absolutely loved the symbology that it detailed. When telling Mr. Y about it, it was amusing to watch how far his eyeballs rolled into his head in bordeom. Walking around Culloden in Scotland, it was pretty clear that I was the only one of us interested in history past the last 100 years.

"Did you know that this was the last battle of the clans? That this is where the Scottish clan, as it was known, met its death?" I asked, hopping around the heather in buzzing historical excitment.

"Mmm." he replied, grimacing.

"And did you know that the Scottish forces, having previously actually taken parts of England, marched to this spot in the freezing cold, starving and dying of thirst, before they were devestated by the English army."

"Really." came the reply, forced interest firmly in place.

He tried to explain American power supply versus English power supply the other night in bed. Ordinarily, I would've tried to be a good pupil, but having been plied with copious amounts of wine, I was not in great shape for absorbing info. He explained it in detail, me waving in and out of booze-soaked naked consciousness. At the end, he asked:

"So what's the advantage of American power supply versus English power supply?"

Oh shit. I'm being quizzed. I rack my brain.

"Um....it doesn't hurt as much if you step on the plug in the middle of the night?"

Needless to say, that was the wrong answer.

You see? It's just a matter of interests.

But to be fair, he is kind about giving me space on my hobbies. He comes up with ideas for my blog. He suggests documentaries on TV that might be something I like. In return, I am getting to know his hobbies. We both like to read books about dis-used tube stations, and history books about "the Toubles". I like the lighting designs he comes up with, and want him to outfit our new place with his ideas. I guess this is part of what a relationship is about-you take what interests you and try to link it together, sometimes you have to give, sometimes you have to take. I know he may never like to write, but I at least want to try to get him into a movie theatre from time to time. In return, I will pay attention and learn about electricity. Train stations. Lighting.

But I draw the line at bar codes.

-H

PS-I love Ilyka, too.

PPS-I need some assistance. I think it's time to change my headline up at the top, the skitsy girl is beginning to get on my nerves. Anyone with an example or suggestion is welcome to email me with it, since I am pretty hopeless at coming up with an idea. Mail to: everydaystranger (at) btconnect (dot) com.

PPPS-Yup, it's official. Mr. Y and I are moving into Whitney Houston.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:23 AM | Comments (12) | Add Comment
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1 Thanks muchly for the link but OMG--I am so not into electrical engineering. It was hands down THE major handicap I had as a programmer. To be a really brilliant software engineer, you have to have at least a passing affection for circuitry, and I had none. I feel for you on that. Because the people who love it really, really love it. Capacitance! Voltage! Resistance! Current! Wiring diagrams! Ugh. As for Culloden, did you ever read any of these? Pure fluff fantasy, but with lots of Scottish history. Oh, and spanking. They totally contain spanking.

Posted by: ilyka at May 21, 2004 09:40 AM (CjcOh)

2 Ha! Yup, I did read those, up until the last one, which whipped me. I confess. I read them. My dirty little secret, and why I love a man in a kilt. It was like reading historic porn. The spanking got me off, no less.

Posted by: Helen at May 21, 2004 09:53 AM (+Qiat)

3 Prehaps you both can start a new hobby. Maybe following an English League Team or something.

Posted by: drew at May 21, 2004 01:25 PM (CBlhQ)

4 did someone say spanking? um, anyways, personally i think it's good to have some different hobbies. with the bf i like to have some things that are separate from him. it's good to have some things that are just "mine." we respect eachothers stuff and have some things that we enjoy together. and yes, in the middle we compromise a bit too. i've learned how to play poker, and he watches some reality tv and movies with me. does living in whitney houston mean you have to play her music all the time? oooo, i wanna dance with somebody. i wanna feel the heeeeeeeat. yeah, i wanna dance with somebody. with. some. body. who. loves. me. ooooooooo! ok, i'm done. ;-)

Posted by: kat at May 21, 2004 02:21 PM (qEQy+)

5 me waving in and out of booze-soaked naked consciousness This is not the time for a discussion about elecricity. This is the time to see if you can make more lightning than a pair of Tesla coils! Has he covered the plug and socket bit yet? Ahem.

Posted by: Paul at May 21, 2004 02:41 PM (xdj7o)

6 "But I draw the line at bar codes." That's actually pretty funny if you think about it....barcodes are just a bunch of lines Maybe you're subconsciously a closet barcode lover

Posted by: Solomon at May 21, 2004 03:35 PM (t5Pi1)

7 I just visited your "About Me" section for the first time since I started visiting your blog. You may want to change some of your entries. You probably need to: stop going to Englishmen Anonymous, add Kiefer Sutherland to your "list", and let new comers know you don't live in Sweden anymore. It's a slow day on the comments, so I figured I'd do a little idle chatting.

Posted by: Solomon at May 21, 2004 06:20 PM (t5Pi1)

8 ROFLMAO! Oh, Helen, I so love you! You are absolutely right about the hobbies!

Posted by: Courtney at May 21, 2004 07:32 PM (1Gy7B)

9 Ok, I have just spent the last 3 days here at work reading your archives. I even didn't allow myself to read the newest entries until I read all the archives. You have a way with words that astounds me. Seriously. Where's Luuka now, she's welcome to come visit me in Vegas for some debauchery!

Posted by: Tif at May 21, 2004 11:21 PM (jCFyL)

10 When Kathleen and I married, we shared our one main passion: SCUBA diving. Beyond that, I wanted more of what she cared about: involvement in the world of nature, birds, flowers, etc. And she wanted more of what I cared about: the world of ideas. Our lives have been amazingly enriched these past 8 years.

Posted by: Denny at May 23, 2004 04:13 PM (d0X5o)

11 IMHO You and Lucky Bastard (I mean Mr Y) have the interests in common which count. Sex, spanking and cooking. What more could a good hedonist ask for? But seriously, I'm surprised that a telecom industry person wouldn't be into EE. Have you considered how some of your interests might intersect? Do you know the historical and political reasons for the deviation in power standards? It had to do with the gas monopoly lobbying for safer (i.e. more expensive) standards which use more copper so as to impose greater costs on their competition. That's one of the things I always loved about anthropology; it looks at both the written and physical/scientific record. E.g. Lynne White's (spelling?) theory of how the invention of the riding stirrup and knight class led to the need for a greater division of labour in W Europe and the UK etc. I guess this is meant as one example of how you and LB might combine your interests when chatting in between cooking and COOKING ;-) Good luck & thanks for a good blog.

Posted by: Steve P at May 24, 2004 02:50 AM (KvWin)

12 If the two of you had exactly the same interets it would all be a bit dull. And you're not the dull type. That said bar codes...that's a tough one.

Posted by: Simon at May 24, 2004 09:27 AM (FUPxT)

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I used to think that our lives are defined by who we are, where we go, what we achieve. That, in some way, a list of accomplishments and clear-cut milestones would be indicative of some kind of success in life. Some kind of acknowledgement that we have made it, that we have the brass ring.

The older I get, the more I have decided that who we are is defined by how we love.

When I look at the skewed path that is my life, I can pinpoint 3 men that I have loved very much. And it's not like there's a finite amount of love in there. It's not like an allocation of resources-just because I gave it all to one of them, it doesn't mean that the well is empty. In fact, the well somehow gets miraculously refilled. Maybe the love is slightly more bitter, maybe it is somehow more fragile, but it's there. Fishes and loaves of bread, or the incredible well of human emotion-the principle is the same.

In case you haven't interred it from my blog, I have a lot of problems. You wouldn't believe it maybe, but in my real life I simply cannot talk about my feelings. In some way, I feel that to talk about how I think and feel is to let you into my life, and nothing in the world is worse than letting someone into my life. If I tell you how I feel, you may get to know me. If you get to know me, then you may like me. If you like me, you may love me. And if you love me and leave, then I won't be able to handle it.

So I'll just circumvent the process. I'll lie to you and not let you get to know me. I'll make sure that you can't ever get close enough to get inside, and in that way I will always be safe.

Lonely.
But safe.

Only my arms-length process got skewed when I started my blog. And when I started talking to Mr. Y and found out that I just can't lie to him. I just started talking and started writing, and I haven't been able to shut the fuck up since. A whole lifetime of mental monologues are finding their way out, and in that way, I feel like a new person somehow.

Add on to that this enormous emotion I have for Mr. Y, and I am a new person in many ways. The breadth and depth of my emotion for him is incredible, and yet sometimes I still can't reach out and tell him what I am thinking, not because I can't talk to him, but because I am not sure of what the sounds are like when they leave my mouth. Maybe we're sitting on the couch and I feel an overwhelming flood of warmth for him, but I keep it to myself. To tell him is to open myself to ridicule, a joke, or worse-lack of acknowledgement (even though he would acknowledge it, if only with a squeeze of the hand). And a few times I will feel a wave of sadness band my chest up over the trauma of my divorce, but instead of talking about it, I just bang it back down into the tin can of my heart and close the lid tightly.

Mr. Y and his brothers have a hard time with his Stepmother. She has been the source of much discourse in their lives, and it startles me sometimes when I hear about her. It startles me, because she and I are actually very much alike. We both are very friendly but hard to get to know, so that we come across as cold. We don't trust people. We both have phobias. We both are foreigners in England (she's from Australia) and we both came in and broke a family apart.

And I don't want to be that person forever.

It startles me sometimes that Mr. Y knows me so well. I will point to a fruit smoothie that looks good, and he replies: "But you don't like bananas." I hadn't noticed that it had bananas in it, but even more, I find that I love that he knows I hate them. Does it always feel this wonderful to have someone know you? Is that thrill down the back a thrill of familiarity, of contentment of being part of something?

Do you know all of my secrets? I think, looking at him as he moves about the bedroom, feeling hot flashes of lust oozing through me.

Do I even know all of my secrets? I think.

But to be honest, the kind of love that I am low-on is love for friends.

I wish I could say that in my real life I have an amazing circle of friends that I can call and can meet up with if I need to talk, need a drink, need a laugh. Although I do have a few wonderful blog mates that I can email with, it's simply not the case that I can just make a phone call and have a posse of people to commiserate with down at the pub. My friendship circle consists of two men that I love dearly. I have two other men and one woman on the periphery that mean a lot to me and since they live in other countries we email, but I hardly ever see them. When the going gets rough, the Helen gets quiet and rides the waves outside of myself, watching myself in the movie that is my life, until the going is ok again.

But I understand that I need to change. That it's ok to have friends, and it's ok to open myself up a little bit. Just because someone gets to know me, it doesn't mean that if they leave I'm worthless.

Maybe it just means they had to leave.

Walking around IKEA with Mr. Y yesterday and having to absorb the absolute enormity of what we need, it came to me. At the ages of 42 and 30, we are starting all over again. For me, this will be the 4th time that I have had to start from scratch, and you know what? While the idea doesn't thrill me, it's not a symbol that I am a failure. It's not a symbol that my life isn't worth living. It's not a poignancy telling me that I haven't made anything of myself.

It means that I have had to leave, too.

So I will buy a trash can, a hot pad holder, a bed, a couch, and a dresser. I will start all over again, and maybe someday I have to start all over again again. I have my own internal furniture arranged in my heart, pieces and accessories that are what I need to get me through. Memories of the men I love, and snapshots of the places I have been.

And maybe I need to try to start talking to people. Letting them in. Trusting them. Who the hell knows where it leads-maybe it makes me worse off than before. But at the same time, the only things I know are this:

- It feels wonderful to talk.
- It feels wonderful to have Mr. Y know me so well.
- I have enough love to go around.
- And if I ever have to start over again, how wonderful to have some help and love, too....

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:00 AM | Comments (23) | Add Comment
Post contains 1265 words, total size 6 kb.

1 I know what you mean exactly. I too am not as voluble in real life and my blog has helped me vocalize my thoughts and feelings. Sometimes I feel strange readng your posts, you say some things just the way I've thought them out. Specifically in this post - the friends part.

Posted by: plumpernickel at May 19, 2004 11:41 AM (Swjs7)

2 Very deep. Makes me feel like I should apologise for reading something so personal. How about some cheesy words of encouragement like “You’ll get out of life, relationships etc whatever you put in”

Posted by: Grinder at May 19, 2004 12:47 PM (F/YMq)

3 *hugs* I'm happy you're happy. You've earned it.

Posted by: Courtney at May 19, 2004 01:05 PM (1Gy7B)

4 "...we both came in and broke a family apart." No, you didn't. As I think I said before, you were a symptom, not a cause. We can't help who we're attracted to. I struggle with it myself. Friends are an important part of life. You're in a new place, and it will take time. But it will be good for you to find some. A life of your own, outside of your relationship with Mr Y, will strengthen your relationship.

Posted by: Easy at May 19, 2004 01:17 PM (oQKRL)

5 I know exactly what you mean. I caught myself the other day saying that I read something funny online, and I realized that I spend more time talking (commenting and posting) online than I do in real life. I can think of only two people that I consider close enough to me to open up to the way that I do online.

Posted by: amber at May 19, 2004 01:23 PM (iJZeQ)

6 Bravo! That was one of your best entries yet. I feel almost as though I could have written it myself (but I'm not that brave). Your writing is so brutally honest that I often identify more than one part of myself in what I can see of you. This morning I almost got up and cheered after reading your entry, but I settled for commenting with silent tears coursing down my cheeks. Thank you again for sharing your healing. I'm SO glad to read happy in your writing.

Posted by: Lisa at May 19, 2004 01:33 PM (uxfbz)

7 Not being surrounded by good friends in life is like having a meal with only the main dish and no side dishes (salad, vegetables, potatoes, bread,...) The main dish (chicken, filet mignon, whatever) is excellent, but often the wine and side dishes take the meal to the next level. And if the main dish is ever in short supply -- either long or short term -- you still have the side dishes to sustain you. I know everyone isn't an open book in person as ol' Solomon is, but I really think everyone can and should make at least 2 or 3 good friends besides their spouse. It helps make the "meal" more enjoyable even when the "main dish" isn't prepared just right that night. Anyone else hungry?

Posted by: Solomon at May 19, 2004 01:38 PM (t5Pi1)

8 Part of starting over IS making new friends. This can be as fun as it is, you say, painful. Try to enjoy.

Posted by: Kyle at May 19, 2004 01:39 PM (blNMI)

9 As I checked my previous comment for errors, I thought, "Someone might mistake this for an encouragement to have a 'lover' or 2 on the side in case the main dish wasn't up to par." There were absolutely no sexual overtones or undertones intended with my previous comment. It was all about true friends.

Posted by: Solomon at May 19, 2004 01:52 PM (t5Pi1)

10 Feh...all you can get at IKEA is stuff. You've already acquired the important things. ;-)

Posted by: Jim at May 19, 2004 01:54 PM (IOwam)

11 When my marriage was over all I took with me was my books, CDs, and clothes. All that other stuff was still important to my ex-wife but not to me so I let her have it. For me starting my new, single life with a clean slate made sense. I realized I was no longer the same person I used to be so why hang onto all the furniture and artifacts that defined the previous incarnation of me. I now have a nice, little house that is decorated in a completely different manner than Previous Life Manor. For the first time in my life the place where I live actually "feels" like the real me. I wouldn't trade that feeling for anything. Little flame, you will always be surrounded by friends that love you dearly despite the fact you've never met them in person! Thanks for continuing to open up to us. It's as theraputic for us as it is for yourself.

Posted by: Paul at May 19, 2004 02:13 PM (xdj7o)

12 Solomon, Bravo! I usually keep a special bottle of wine at home, waiting for the right meal/company/occasion to arrive. Friends are like wine, I like to have one or two around to share the special times. Miguel. P. S. - the lovers thing is like pandoras box. And I wont be the one to open it...

Posted by: msd at May 19, 2004 03:42 PM (7kxN2)

13 Nice post, it's my first time here so I just thought I would say hi. Nice blog.

Posted by: BykerSink at May 19, 2004 04:22 PM (GDqnu)

14 i have trouble being fully open with people in my real life too. and trouble making friends. i think it's partly being an introspective person. wish you were closer!

Posted by: kat at May 19, 2004 06:19 PM (QkuGS)

15 FYI--I hate bananas too!

Posted by: Marie at May 19, 2004 06:26 PM (3Y1np)

16 "Lonely. But safe." Been there, did that for a long time. The biggest problem-to me- was that I wasn't really safe at all. The hurt was there, just buried deep inside. You tell yourself it's not, but it is. Congratulations on coming out of your shell. Good luck on the rest of your journey.

Posted by: physics geek at May 19, 2004 06:44 PM (Xvrs7)

17 So here is the thing, now i live in sunny surrey you want to meet down the pub i am happy to join the rabble that will jump at the chance to form a line behind the sign that says 'possible friends' mines a vodka by the way abs x

Posted by: abs at May 19, 2004 07:01 PM (DZnA+)

18 Aw Helen...I want to hug your guts out. This is a good place to be in life. You've earned it lady. KJB

Posted by: KJB at May 19, 2004 08:08 PM (pya+6)

19 I think you should worry less about exposing your feelings and more about your hatred for bananas. What's up with that?

Posted by: Guinness at May 20, 2004 12:03 AM (7uAz8)

20 guinness is right. No one hates bananas. Also think of things this way: you've had lots of practice at starting over, so this time you can do it perfectly.

Posted by: Simon at May 20, 2004 09:21 AM (UKqGy)

21 Sorry boys. I really hate bananas.

Posted by: Helen at May 20, 2004 09:29 AM (+Qiat)

22 :-) nice.

Posted by: Indigo at May 20, 2004 12:10 PM (smUEq)

23 In some ways there are similarities between us and so I can agree. Yes, starting over is hard, recreating yourself is hard. But I have found it to be the most worth while thing I have done in my life. And letting people in will make it all the more rich.

Posted by: stinkerbell at May 26, 2004 11:21 AM (IHvBP)

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Something has been bugging me.

And before you think it, this isn't a political rant (I don't do political rants). It's a human issue to me.

Mainly, it has to do with immigrants and borders. Everywhere I look, countries are closing their borders, trying to limit the intake of immigrants. My home country did it, in a broad gesture that broke my heart. Now will my adopted country do it?

There was an enormous political to-do recently in the UK when it was discovered that the UK Embassy in Bulgaria, with the assistance of the UK Visa office, was issuing visas to possibly unsuitable Bulgarian candidates, so that they could relocate to the UK and begin a new life. This, since Bulgaria is jumping on the EU bandwagon and clearly the media thinks that this means that all Bulgarians are so wildly unhappy with their lot in life that they must absolutely be heading to the gold-paved streets of the UK.

And for this, I too became wary. The backlash against migrants, asylum-seekers, and emigrants is high here. The population here is often plied with stories about the intrinsic criminal-element in the immigrants. The stories are often horrible or tragic, and I can understand that they incite ire in the native population. But I would venture that these front page stories are far from the norm. That these terrible stories are the exception, and for every one maniac you have, there are 10,000 that quietly go into the work force, pay their taxes, and contribute to society.

I did some checking. I know that U.S. Immigration has clamped down fiercely. That a nation so powerful and with so much to offer is suddenly afraid of who is coming in. I know of extremely qualified candidates from Germany, the UK, Australia, and China who are highly skilled in telecommunications and want nothing more than to live and work in the U.S. who were rejected. Borders closed. Thank you, come again.

It's a world of fear. For those who are itching to comment something along the lines of "it will prevent another September 11", don't bother. Really. You can't convince me of it. Not when I can find statistics like these, which come from the U.S. government themselves. You know what these statistics say to me? Those coming into the U.S. are equivalent in education and ambition to the natives. The U.S. is, in my opinion, a nation made great by the ability (once upon a time) of allowing people to come into the country and to give them a chance to make something of themselves. And I am a walking example that it can happen. My father immigrated when he was 16-a scrawny Japanese boy without a penny to his name and without a word of English. Today he is an airline pilot with 2 beautiful homes. He pays his taxes. He is a naturalized citizen. Gamble paid off then, right?

Sweden is about the only country I know of in Europe that is still arms outstretched-in fact Sweden is embracing asylum seekers fleeing from sexual crimes (i.e. female genital mutilation). A Finnish man I worked with told me that a few years ago, Finland accepted a grand total of 6 immigrants. Six.

The UK is not like that yet, but I can feel it coming. They recently showed a TV show about a town in which an asylum "camp" was planned for. The people were so violently angry about it that they were protesting loudly and hotly-one man even advocated for all the asylum seekers to just be killed, it would be better.

What?

I did some checking, and there are plenty of jobs to go around here, albeit not in all career areas. A UK statistics site says so itself: there are half a million vacancies for the service-layer industry. Now, take an example: will an English citizen, father of four with a house in East Sussex, be willing to take a job as a hotel receptionist? Likely not, right? So it's not really about taking a job away-it's about providing a level of employment which can be viewed as a gateway.

And now England is about to have ID cards. Cards to clamp down on the panic. Cards to identify who you are to the most minute detail. Not only is Big Brother watching, he followed me from the U.S. to here, I guess! I got into a discussion about this with Mr. Y's brother Alex a few weeks ago. I don't see the point of the ID cards, to me it's all about trying to control the population. I have a passport. I have a driver's license. Isn't that enough?

Alex put forth the fact that of course it's fair, after all the U.S. has introduced wildly restrictive measures with regards to passports. Biometric data will now be collected. Punishments severe. In his view, this is fair.

In other words, I have no right to be against the ID cards, since my home country is being assy about biometrics. Now, to be honest, I don't support having biometric data on the passports. If one country is going to require the data, then they all should, otherwise it comes across as a legislation of xenophobia (and again, I do not want a September 11 debate on this site. It was a tragic and horrible event, and nothing that can be said here will change, enlighten, or affect that.)

Now there are a number of ways I could've responded to Alex:

1) Chuckle a la Winston Churchill, with a cigar in one hand and a sniffer of cognac in the other. "Yes, indeed." I could smirk. "I remember signing the bill to put biometric requirements into effect. Damn pen ran out of ink!"

2) Put my Doc Martins on the dining table and adjust my punky cap on my head. Sneer viciously. "Oh yeah?" I could say, arrogance in my voice. "Well suck my dick, bitch!"

3) Blink a lot.

4) Shrug and change the subject, hoping to avoid an all-out battle that would be fumed by alcohol and indignation.

Although option 2 would have been the most rewarding (even though I don't own any Doc Martins) I went for option 4.

Walking through London, I am amazed and pleased at the incredible diversity that is in England. I think it makes a nation richer. I can understand that it can also drive people apart, and in a world propelled by suspicion, it doesn't help if you feel you have to fear the guy next door. But I also don't accept that fear needs to limit who is welcome. If there are jobs available that need to be filled, then the borders should be flexible enough that-after a screening process-candidates can come in.

I went through it, after all. And although I have heard others around me say: "It's different. You're from the U.S.", then I say this: it's not different. The Bulgarians in the UK are immigrants, and so am I.

-H.

PS-The new blog Survivor is up-do you dare?

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:39 AM | Comments (22) | Add Comment
Post contains 1187 words, total size 7 kb.

1 I have no problem with ID cards - but I'm sure even when we have them we will still be asked for a copy of our gas bill when we try to hire out a movie from the local video store To be honest I have never quite understood what people have against ID cards. To me it implies that you have something to hide ... As I understand it all of the information that would be on an ID card is stored in various places today anyway. Biometric data will start to be stored on your credit card soon for ID purposes. People do not seem to have a problem with this. It's OK because it means that someone can no longer steal your card and steal from you. Never mind that a private company has your biometric data. But if the government does it to simplify administration of benefits such as health and social support then there is nanny state uproar! Just my two shiney new pence ...

Posted by: Best Friend at May 18, 2004 10:40 AM (4tEWI)

2 Yes, yes and... yes. Is the percentage of Bulgarian criminals superior to the UK criminals? Or Portuguese? I think not. People should be judged by their input to society. If one pays his taxes and respects the local laws, and is a productive member of society, he can only be put down because of ignorance and prejudice. In the UK, in Bulgaria, in Portugal. Or anywhere else in the world. And I am adding my two pence to Best Friends... Miguel.

Posted by: msd at May 18, 2004 12:21 PM (PyCka)

3 ID cards - bad. Restricting Immigration - that is totally the right of a country to do - Australia has extreme immigration restrictions, and no one bitches about it. It's just that everyone in Europe loves to bitch about the US, so we will be forever damned if we do and damned if we don't. Helen, I used to be in the telecommunications industry. So did many thousands of other Americans - that industry has fallen through the floor, we don't need more people coming here to look for nonexistent jobs in the telecommunications industry. This is one time that your arguments don't fly with me, still like you, though, hope you won't get pissed at me for disagreeing!

Posted by: Beth Donovan at May 18, 2004 12:43 PM (igCu1)

4 No worries-I don't mind if people disagree with me. These telecoms folk were already in the U.S. and already in jobs (so they didn't take them away from U.S. citizens, they already had them)-and two of them were already going through the naturalization process. It was stopped and they were told they had to leave, which meant selling homes, taking kids out of schools, and selling off their cars-which is a revenue loss for the U.S., actually. I know myself what it's like to be in telecom and trying to get a job in a foreign country. I just did it, and it was hard. And in Europe, we hear a lot about their immigration restrictions, although theirs seem to be a lot less stringent than the Americans are (commonwealth citizens, for example, have more flexibility).

Posted by: Helen at May 18, 2004 12:51 PM (5Ty7l)

5 Hi Beth, In what ways are ID cards bad? A lot of people say just ID cards=BAD but don't follow it up with reasons. For instance, people say that ID cards infringe on their civil liberties, but I have never understood why that should be? We do bitch 'over here' about the immigration restrictions getting into Australia and New Zealand - and they are part of the Commonwealth!! Most people would much rather live there than the US even if the water does go down the plug hole the wrong way As far as US immigration goes, as far as I know, if I travel to Australia they will not take biometric data from my 3yo daughter because she might be a terrorist ...

Posted by: Best Friend at May 18, 2004 12:57 PM (4tEWI)

6 I've been as active as I can be without being in Britian regarding the refuge immigration, because most of the people that are trying to come in are Romani (Gypsy). It's heartbreaking to think that in most of the Eastern countries, for all of the hardships that those countries went through, the best thing that happened was that everyone was equal under communist rule. Once the Wall fell, the racial hatred that regrew its head, especially against the Romani has been horrific. That's why many are seeking refuge in places like Britain. And to see the racism rear up its ugly head like it did a few (maybe 6) months ago regarding the burning of the caravan effigy, shows that there are still people who really think that other people are substandard just because of their race. Oh, and regarding the ID cards, every time I hear of something like this, I think of the old Robert Heinlein quote that said something along the lines that when any society requires you to carry identification on you at all times, it's time to leave that society. Idealistic, yes... but I'd love to be able to do it sometimes.

Posted by: amber at May 18, 2004 01:54 PM (iJZeQ)

7 I am not qualified to express an opinion on British immigration. As for the US, I am only marginally more qualified. Let me make two points. One, I agree with the people before who noted that the US has the right, as any country does, to regulate its borders. Two, Helen, it seems to me that the quality of immigration to the US has changed. When your father came here, or my great great etc grand parents came here, it was to make a new life as an American. Your father achieved great success here because he learned the language and made a committment to stay. Illegal immigration and even legal immigration does not have this character. It seems as if many immigrants are here only to make some money and retire back to their country of origin. That does not strenghen or help the US. As immigration changes, so should our policy. Anyway, you've touched on a delicate issue today. Forgive my generalizations, please.

Posted by: Random Penseur at May 18, 2004 03:11 PM (LlPKh)

8 Thomas Jefferson said, "Those who would trade freedom for security will end up with neither." IDs will not make things more secure and will infringe on people's right to privacy. If any entity (gov't or private) gets hold of ALL your "private" information (blood type, DNA, finger-prints, and so on), it becomes much easier to frame, control, and/or eliminate "enemies of the state". Some say those with nothing to hide shouldn't mind having an ID. Let's don't stop there. Let's put a camera on every street corner and in your house. Let's put a tracking chip on every person. If you have nothing to hide, surely you won't mind Where does it end? As I see it, ID cards aren't bad (it might even be nice to have a nationwide standard), but it IS a big step towards something potentially very bad and controlling.

Posted by: Solomon at May 18, 2004 03:26 PM (t5Pi1)

9 Solomon, I take your point totally, and I'm sure my view on ID cards is tainted by my status as a native of country with a parliamentary democracy and top rate legal system and as such have no reason to consider that i may stand a higher percentage chance of being stopped and asked for random ID checks than a large number of people who may not share my northern european colouring. With the power of ID cards comes the responsibility to use the data in an appropriate way. Freedom of information act means that any information held on as part of the card database is accessable to me for viewing at my leisure. In the UK, we have cameras on a huge number of street corners already and pretty much all new generartion mobile phone are now tracked to a accuracy of a 100m or so when they are switched on, with the next generation up an order of magnitude in resolution (GPS aided tracking). Who needs to go to the expense of inserting a tracking chip into people when you can follow their phones that they agree to have tracked as part of their subscription?! Most of your nightmare future is here BEFORE the ID cards arrive Ah, the buzzing of my PC speakers tell me that my phone has just done a location update - time to move before the spy drone gets here ...

Posted by: Best Friend at May 18, 2004 03:52 PM (4tEWI)

10 Solomon! My lovely boy, see it IS possible that we can agree on things! I have nothing to hide (other than my horrible dating track record, but I don't think the government really cares about that.) I too see ID cards simply as the first step in a very real foray into what we once thought of only as science fiction, but now may be able to embrace-monitoring and tracking people without the slightest provocation.

Posted by: Helen at May 18, 2004 03:56 PM (K/0xk)

11 My personal opinion is that borders should be more open. However, I am convinced that many "asylum seekers" are also "benefits seekers." But who can blame them? Who doesn't want a good standard of living? The law is clear: when you are seeking asylum, you must stay in the first "safe" country that you land in. Many of the "asylum seekers" in the UK have come from far afield, passing through several "safe" countries in order to get to the UK. Why would they do this, except that the UK benefits for asylum seekers are better? Now, the real question is not "How can we stop these cheating illegal immigrants?" It's "How can we get all of Europe to provide the same (good) standard of benefits for people who are seeking asylum?" If all European countries provided the same standard of benefit, the number of asylum seekers would not be disproportionate in any one country, thus reducing the "invasion factor" felt by a country, thus reducing the perception of asylum seekers as fraudsters. The exception would be a country that is immediately next to a country that lots of people flee. Perhaps that country should have the right to "refuse" a certain number of immigrants; I don't know. Certainly America and Americans generally don't suffer because of an influx of Mexican immigrants.

Posted by: angel at May 18, 2004 04:03 PM (VDG65)

12 H, Looks like I picked a fine time to pop back in to say Hi! I don't have a problem with the ID card approach. Like Best Friend said, I have nothing to hide. It's basically just a Personal Google Card(PGC). It's a little laminated list of already existing search results compiled for easy scrutiny. I remember a business trip I took to Toronto 5-6 years ago where I talking my way past Canadian Customs with nothing more than my U.S. driver's license and a Voter Registration card. When coming back through U.S. Customs a week later the lady asked for my Passport and I handed her my driver's license and Voter card and told her this was all I had on me. She said in all her years of working Customs she'd never heard of anyone being admitted like that. I simply shrugged and I attributed it to my honest-looking face allowing Canadian Customs to give me the benefit of the doubt. Needless to say that would never happen today - anywhere. The world is different and I don't ever see it going back to people being given the benefit of the doubt. As a Yank that recently spent 2 hours going through multiple x-ray scans, packs of drug/explosives-sniffing dogs, and multiple documents checks in the Lima airport I have a newfound appreciation for having whatever credentials grease the wheels with the men with automatic weapons! I'm sure I looked like Charlie in Willy Wonka with a death-grip on his Golden Ticket. You should have seen my lip quiver as a lady came by and plucked my Passport from my hands to check against the terrorist lists. I was sure the second that precious document left my hands one of those drug dogs was going to catch a whiff of my coca tea breath and I'd find myself in my own version of Midnight Express. In the U.S. a driver's license is the preferred means of identification. Nobody carries their Passport with them on a daily basis. Everyone from the cops to a store clerk want something with your current address on it. If you don't have a driver's license then you at least need a state ID card to go anywhere from shopping if you plan of writing a check, do some banking, or just to stop for a drink in a bar. I personally don't think the new U.S. Visit program of collecting biometric data will have any significant effect on preventing terrorism. Highly-motivated people will always find a way to circumvent whatever obstacles stand between them and their objective or "destiny". This is going off on a tangent but I found it interesting... Did anyone happen to catch this recent Newsweek article covering the Madrid bombing investigation? Spanish police found a lone fingerprint on a bag in the van full of detonators and gear believed to have been used by the bombers. That lone fingerprint was given to other governments to assist in the investigation and the FBI found it matched that of an attorney in Portland, Oregon. It turns out the suspect had only been fingerprinted because he served in the U.S. Army. If it hadn't been for that single record of his fingerprint that lead would have been a dead end. If the U.S. insists on collecting biometric data on visitors they should apply that rule to ALL visitors. And since they're doing this under the auspice of Homeland Security then Biometrics Should Begin at Home! Sorry for the long-winded post. I've been away for a while so I think I've built up a little bandwidth credit! I've missed having you as the start to my days lately, little flame. I won't let that happen again.

Posted by: Paul at May 18, 2004 04:36 PM (xdj7o)

13 I'm like you - my great-grandparents came to the US from Austria when they were young. They immediately learned English and they were hard working, tax-paying individuals. They were proud to be citizens, and they were an asset to the country. I think that nations are on the losing end if they think closing the borders will help anything. The terrorist will manage to get in somehow - you are only shutting out the good people that are trying to be legitimate about the process.

Posted by: Christine at May 18, 2004 04:37 PM (I7uLT)

14 It was only a matter of time before we agreed on something Helen Although I think we agreed way back when on Patriotism. Best Friend - I'm with you on trusting the gov't due to my law abiding, upstanding, natural citizenship, good standing status; but that paranoid little man in the back of my head speaks up when stuff like this is proposed. As for cell phones, I don't have one, so good luck tracking me Coppers (that's cops or police for anyone unfamiliar with the term)!!

Posted by: Solomon at May 18, 2004 05:38 PM (t5Pi1)

15 What bothers me most about current immigration laws tightening in almost all Westernized nations is how it shows that *nobody* reads history any more. Helen, I take your comments about the U.S. accepting immigrants in the past with good grace, but the truth is that we only took people who were European openly. We've had historical cycles with those of Asian, Southeast Asian and East Indian descent for generations now that were racist and unfortunate to say the very least. Ask any Japanese of the Nisei generation what it was like to lose their property during WWII. Look at how we treated immigrant Chinese during the Gold Rush - where do you (and I mean "you" in the greater sense - no finger pointing, H) think the word "coolie" comes from? They were basically indentured servants, building the railroads and feeding the white people. The truth is that this is the pendulum swinging far, far to the opposite side of freedom as an aftereffect of events in recent years. We're afraid. That means we clench down. I think that's true worldwide. It it helpful? Accurate? Responsive? Hell, NO. But let's face it: humans are frightened mammals. In the U.S. especially, the population is aging, which means more conservative voting and more restriction of freedoms. Welcome to 80 million babyboomers who are afraid of losing their homes.

Posted by: Kaetchen at May 18, 2004 06:38 PM (1nMRx)

16 Sorry, I think we should closely monitor immigration. I immigrated to NZ with my husband - a New Zealand citizen. That's the only reason they let me in, after requiring letters from both our mothers that our marriage was legitimate (we lived on different continents for the 8 months prior to entry.) The other way I could have gotten in was by putting a large amount of money in a NZ bank, showing that I could pay my own way and not just drain public funds. When taxpayer dollars pay for public support for immigrants - sometimes for years before a final resolution can be reached - I see nothing wrong with asking them to demonstrate skills and a knowledge of the English language before allowing them to reside in the country. I agree with an earlier post that the land of our grandfathers has changed. We are seen not always as the land of opportunity, but a gravy train. If I try to enter Czech, they have the right to ask to see a copy of my health and car insurance before allowing me through. (That might have changed in the last two months) And the same back in to Germany. As I understand it, the Germans don't want sick Czech citizens crossing over and collapsing in their hospitals. I also see nothing wrong with an identification card as long as it is done effectively. I doubt that an unforgeable card can be produced at this point in time.

Posted by: Oda Mae at May 18, 2004 06:45 PM (jknFd)

17 looks like i came back at the right time! I currently work with nder 18 year old asylum seekers. Well, to say i work with them - i look after them on behalf of the UK govt. it is a new job and i love it. I think it is best i dont rant so all i have to say is i think the way we treat people is awful. if we signed up the the convention we shouldlive up to it and we should at least treat people well whilst we are deciding if we will let them stay or not. The real trouble here is the bo**ocks we get fed by the media about 'illegal immigrants' etc. I can tell you from the front line alot of it is completely untrue. The other thing to remember is that in order to stop people being traffiked here etc etc we need to hone our immigration policy as a whole, not just villify poeple in the press for entering the UK. hm, small incoherent rant there i think! abs x

Posted by: abs at May 18, 2004 08:46 PM (tZaFg)

18 If any one has an analysis that involves an erf or gamma function I would be interested in reading it:-) Everybody else sound...well I won't finish this sentence;-) Anyone, how many more people would you like moving into your house or sleep on your sofa or rented apartment or build extra houses on your land for any person around the globe to move in? Do you have an upper limit? Does the limit move with your ability to provide a roof, first aid kits, entertainment, mediation of spats, etc.? I think about this in terms of becoming an immigrant myself and believe the onus is on the immigrants. Nothing pains me more than have a recent immigrant or green card holder explain to me what is all wrong with America. Falls on deaf ears and I'm less likely to include said individual at next barbecue. Come here, learn what makes America work, assimilate, contribute and be friendly and you'll do fine. There is still going to be a large amount of immigration to the US, it's just going to be more picky. And for those who have said what won't contain terrorism, do you have any solutions? I find this Daniel Pipes article interesting. "Muslim life in Western Europe and North America is strikingly different."

Posted by: Roger at May 18, 2004 08:52 PM (8S2fE)

19 Oda Mae said: "As I understand it, the Germans don't want sick Czech citizens crossing over and collapsing in their hospitals." I'm not trying to pick a fight with Oda Mae--she makes good points. But this is exactly what I was saying earlier: who can blame people for trying to go to the place where they get a better quality of life? Sick Czech people have the right to healthcare, do they not? So instead of spending so much money on making sure their borders are secure, why doesn't Germany spend some to help the Czech citizens get good healthcare in their own country? Of course, that's somewhat naive. The burden doesn't really fall on Germany per se, it falls on Europe as a whole. The standardization of public services (including healthcare and asylum-seeker benefits) is one thing that a solid EU could regulate well. Of course, this could turn into an EU debate!

Posted by: angel at May 18, 2004 09:13 PM (zfiwL)

20 Eloquent. Bold. You don't give a damn, do you? An issue like this with so many factors and variables and consequences? This isn't simple! I love it. Well stated!

Posted by: Denny at May 19, 2004 03:31 AM (b27/n)

21 On an autumn visit to NYC last year, my daughter and I passed a Federal Building in lower Manhattan. There was a line that stretched nearly 1/2 block and in the queue was the most diverse crowd that I have ever witnessed in my entire life--all waiting for their 'papers'. The image in my head still haunts me and I could kick myself for not having my camera with me. My thought at the time was, "We keep being told that we are a hated nation, but look at all these people who are trying to join us in opportunity." It was an incredible site.

Posted by: Marie at May 19, 2004 06:25 PM (3Y1np)

22 I'm opposed to the introduction of an ID card scheme in the UK. And not just for civil liberties reasons. Other EU countries that already have such schemes suffer from exactly the same problems that Blunkett is trying to claim a UK scheme will solve, so I can't see it having any practical advantage. There's also the small matter of cost. I already have two forms of state-issued identification that carry my photo and are accepted everywhere: a passport and a driver's license. I'd rather the government spent £5bn on something beneficial to society rather than another bit of plastic for me to lug around.

Posted by: Gareth at May 20, 2004 11:19 AM (NHA9E)

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And suddenly the sun was out all glorious weekend.

And it still is.

Melissa and Jeff are in their bedroom, fleecy nightclothes on and bed head prominent. Mr. Y is off picking up some bagels for breakfast, a sign that although I tried to think ahead for everything on this trip, it didn't exactly pan out that way. The air is warm, the kids' bags are far from packed and it looks like a curry house exploded in our kitchen, remnants from our take-away curry dinner last night.

Mr. Y and I showed up at his Mum's house on Saturday afternoon to pick up his kids. I hadn't ever been to their house before, and to say I was nervous was an understatement to the levels that the U.N. would have called me on. We pulled up to the absolute definition of an English nice suburban home and go into the backyard. There, grandparents and grandchildren are engaged in the age old tradition of playing football (soccer) in the back yard. The kids look up, surprised and wary, not sure what to make of me, even though they had been notified of my existence by their father on Wednesday.

The house was unsettling-there were knick-knacks of 40+ years of memories on the surfaces. This was the place that Mr. Y grew up and that his ex-wife had stayed at countless times. And the presence of memories was unmistakeable-there was a wedding photo of the two of them, prominently displayed in the living room. It was one I hadn't seen before, and they look so young and happy. Mr. Y looks like another man-he is almost boyish looking, up to mischief. He is far too thin for me. I want to take that photo and age him to the gorgeous man I know he is, but at the same time, I want to keep that gorgeous man to myself, to not share him in the photo.

I'm mental.

Melissa is more unsure about me than Jeff. To 7 year-old-Jeff, I am another person to talk to. One that likes dogs, computer games, and tv. To Melissa, I am a new territory. I am someone whose presence may force issues of loyalty in an already turbulent situation. I am someone that she knows but doesn't know in a place that she knows but doesn't know, and with a father that she loves and misses very much.

We leave the house, and the kids are clingy. They speak to each other only in Swedish, but address us only in English. When I look at Melissa, especially, I see so much of her mother in her. When I look at Jeff, there's so much of his father. Between the two of them, I yearn for acceptance as a friend, and I hope that we can have that.

Jeff is cool. He has a sarcastic humor that makes me laugh. When you ask him if he wants something, he has picked up from somewhere: "No thank you, but thanks very much for asking." Melissa has enormous eyes that are very sensitive, and she is entering that adolescent time that has such tumult in it. It makes me want to hug her, but I know better than to do that now.

We go for pizza and there is one on either of his arms, constantly. I walk behind them, the sidewalk only being so big, feeling my weirdness creep up. Is it because of me that they are so clingy? Am I causing them distress? The lunch is awkward, the kids perhaps a bit unhappy that they have to sit by me in the end, but seeing as it's a circular table, it's not like there was any choice. The kids do talk to me, and interact with me, I just wonder what I can do to make it more comfortable for all of us.

When we get back to the flat, they take up their room (it's Lloyd's room, but he is out of town right now) with comfort. We get ready for the one thing that they requested they must do: we watch the Eurovision Song Contest. We have printed scorecards and everything. It's all eyes on the tv until 11:30 pm.

For those not familiar with the Eurovision Song Contest....you're fortunate. Eurovision is the facilitator that gave us Abba in 1974, and they haven't given us anything memorable since. Each EU country gets to submit a singing act, all of them in the cheesy range that makes your toes curl up and your hair crinkle. Some acts are so embarassing that it makes you want to curl up and die for the performers.

And most of the European countries (England being one of the few exceptions) seem to love it.

The kids watch the show, and Mr. Y and I drink wine on the balcony. He thinks the kids like me, only they are worried about their loyalties, an issue I know all too well myself (as does Mr. Y). We both know what it's like to be torn between parents, between hearts, between homes. We both know that small acts now will get remembered in therapy sessions for the rest of our lives.

We re-join the kids for the voting results of the contest, the kids are hoarse with excitement, Eurovision is driving me crazy, and by the time the Ukraine is announced the winners I have a headache the size of Mt. St. Helens.

The next morning it is decided that we shall go to a water park, and ride the water rides, swim, etc. I am filled with dread at this-I have to be honest, I am not an amusement park kind of person. I don't like rides so much, I don't like queues, and there is something in me that despairs of looking ridiculous-I already look that way, I don't need any help. But, dressed in swimsuits and carrying four towels, I join them in the water park fun in Basingstoke.

And you know what?

I had big fun.

Jeff and I wound up spending masses of time together-not a strong swimmer, he clung to my back tightly in the "Roaring River" and laughed with me down the water slides. Melissa enjoyed herself too, and although her clinginess of her father didn't dissipate, she at least agreed to ride one ride with me.

After that, we went shopping to buy them some things. Melissa and I went into one of those ghastly pre-teen stores, where I helped her pick out an outfit. I was cautious there-I didn't want to encourage something racy or tough, since I didn't want to be seen as a bad influence. I sat with her in the dressing room, wanting to be supportive, eager to help out. In the end, she picked a nice pair of striped trousers and a T-shirt out, and Mr. Y was happy.

Then we went to see "Van Helsing", which was at their request. Once again, it was a battle to sit by their Dad. And once again, Melissa held on to his hand the entire time, sometimes both hands. And once again, I wondered if I was making things worse, increasing their insecurities, hoping that they felt that they could always have their father and access to their father.

I was worried about this, it eating me up inside, when I felt a small hand on my arm.

"Helen?" came a soft voice. I looked over at Jeff.

"Are you ok honey?" I asked, sliding my arm around him as vampires swooped around the screen.

He leaned into my arm. "I'm scared, but don't tell Melissa or Daddy." he whispered.

"No problem." I whispered back. "How about you hold my hand when you feel scared?"

He nodded. He took my hand. It continued on and off throughout the film.

We talk and take bets about who will die first in order to make it less scary. The violent climax of the movie begins, and I feel a small hand on my shoulder now.

"Helen?" Jeff whispers. "Is it ok if I sit on your lap?"

"Absolutely." I reply, and pat my lap. Jeff slides on, a warm solid bundle, smelling of Baskin-Robbins, chlorine, and that perfect young child smell. I hold onto him for the rest of the movie.

I know this isn't what being a stepmother is. I know that it's more than that. I know it's battles. I know it's heartache. I know it's being there for a crisis and I know it's being the outside party. I know it's being there for the bad and the good, but that moment, when a little person needed me to feel comfortable...

...that's the first moment that I thought that I could do this.

And I still feel that way.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:26 AM | Comments (19) | Add Comment
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1 that is so awesome! my moment like that took about three years! We went to watch Tv in our bed one cold night - the two of us and the youngest. He got in my side, and snuggled up and put his arms around me! I looked at Neil, who looked at me back. I think I was scared to breathe, incase I woke up!

Posted by: melanie at May 17, 2004 10:25 AM (jDC3U)

2 Oh, Helen! I'm so happy for you! Don't minimize the lap incident. He sought you out for comfort and security. I think it's a pretty big deal. I'm just thrilled it went so well, especially considering how horid you thought it was likely to be.

Posted by: Random Penseur at May 17, 2004 11:16 AM (X3Lfs)

3 Kids... such little monsters. Who smell good, do amazing things, and have such fresh and unbiased way to look at the world. And they take you off guard too. My wife’s two year old niece once said, in front of the whole family, that I was her boyfriend. I asked her if she knew what that meant. She replied "Uncle M., you take me to the park, help me eat my vegetables, tuck me to bed, and spike my cheeks with your growing beard when you kiss me. We also are the only two members in this family that support the same soccer team. Isn´t that being boyfriends?". Well not by these very words but you get the picture. Damn cute little monsters I tell you. Helen, there’s good and bad along the way. But I suspect the good makes it all well worth the effort. Miguel.

Posted by: msd at May 17, 2004 12:15 PM (hNkG2)

4 Sounds like things went GREAT. I still remember vividly my parents divorce, and the tumult that ensued. I get along great with my step-father, but my father has never remarried. That's been difficult for me and my sister becuase we got pretty close with some of his girlfriends, and the breakups were hard for us. The step-parent relationship is a difficult one for kids, especially so close to the marital breakup. They still have that hope that this is just a bump in the road, not something permanent. Your best course is the one you've taken. Take your time, and let them come to you. Stay out of things whenever possible--this is the hardest, but the most important part--but whenever you're pulled in, be honest. I hope it works out for you.

Posted by: Easy at May 17, 2004 01:14 PM (oQKRL)

5 Be yourself and be aware of them, just like you've been doing. Kids are more perceptive than they get credit for, and even if they don't say it, what you did and how you acted was noticed and appreciated by them. Ya did good, kiddo!

Posted by: Ted at May 17, 2004 01:15 PM (blNMI)

6 Sooo happy you're off to a good start with the kids! It's hard to be a "step" anything. My fiance's parents are divorced and both remarried and I know how hard it was for him. Who wouldn't like you?? Like there is a choice!

Posted by: Rebecca at May 17, 2004 02:00 PM (ZHfdF)

7 ...and that's what it's all about! I didn't expect to hear something like that so soon - I am sooo happy for you!

Posted by: Clancy at May 17, 2004 02:07 PM (EGVPL)

8 sounds like a wonderful start to me. and they sound like good kids. i'm happy for all of you! :-)

Posted by: kat at May 17, 2004 02:12 PM (QkuGS)

9 I was moved by your account, because it brought back a poignant memory of the day I had to leave my two sons with their mother after the divorce. I had to go overseas, so I knew it was the beginning of a new and difficult time for me. In order to set this memory in a peaceful context, I'll have to write about it, so it will probably be a blog sometime in the future. It will have to be called, "No Regrets." I hope the memory of this happy beginning stays with you forever.

Posted by: Denny at May 17, 2004 02:59 PM (mTlK4)

10 You're right that being a step parent is more than just that experience but that is the most important part of parenting. There is no substitute for being there and giving comfort. :-)

Posted by: Jim at May 17, 2004 04:18 PM (IOwam)

11 I got to hold K's little sis yesterday, right before we dropped her off with her 'other' family...there's nothing quite as wonderful and as heartbreaking... I'm so glad you got to experience it.

Posted by: Courtney at May 17, 2004 04:40 PM (1Gy7B)

12 Jeff sounds like such a doll! All in all, sounds as if it went pretty well. I hope it'll get easier to be with them each time.

Posted by: ilyka at May 17, 2004 05:35 PM (UUmio)

13 Take it slow, H. Consistency and love are so very important in a stepmom!

Posted by: Kaetchen at May 17, 2004 05:47 PM (1nMRx)

14 Scary movies every visit!! His mom will wonder why he always comes home terrified. She'll think you're the cause and be glad (because she thinks he's afraid of you), and you'll get to cuddle with Jeff and bond. It's a win-win situation In all seriousness, I've never dealt with this kind of thing and hope I never have to. It sounds heart-wrenching. How's the house (pardon me, "flat") hunting going?

Posted by: Solomon at May 17, 2004 06:08 PM (t5Pi1)

15 Ah....the house. Mr. Y decided, and we put in a bid on Whitney Houston. It was accepted, and we were tentatively celebrating, only we just heard: the estate agents have indicated the landlord now wants an even bigger deposit, since I have two cats (this is a change from what we previously agreed). Mr. Y and I are angry and depressed. We may lose Whitney Houston, since we are refusing to pay a jacked-up price, since the price was previously agreed.

Posted by: Helen at May 17, 2004 06:12 PM (WGc8u)

16 do you ever respond to your email?

Posted by: pylorns at May 17, 2004 06:35 PM (FTYER)

17 H I disagree with you. That is exactly what being a stepmother is. Being there when those kids need you to be there is the best thing you can do. Eventually the roles will become clearer but for now that's more than enough.

Posted by: Simon at May 18, 2004 04:08 AM (FUPxT)

18 I'm happy to see that things went smoothly for you, that such great news.

Posted by: Sue at May 18, 2004 06:14 AM (0GNJF)

19 Helen, given the subject matter here, you may be interested in what I have to say in my May 19 post. Best wishes.

Posted by: Denny at May 19, 2004 03:34 AM (b27/n)

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I am always four days away from happiness and light. Always.

Anytime I check on the BBC weather site, I find that the sun is bright and shiny and it is 22 degrees C in four days time. Always. Whenever I check the weather for London and Berkshire, it is cloudy and cold. The light and the warmth is four days away.

I checked it again this morning-BBC tells me that the sun will be out and shining on Tuesday. Yesterday it said Monday.

I just can't win.

Four days from now, maybe the sun will be out. Four days from now, Mr. Y's children will be on their way home and I will know if they like me or not. Four days from now, my period will be over. Four days from now, the grief over hte disagreement I had with Mr. Y will be passed. But four days from now, the pain of my divorce will still be there.

Yesterday I spent most of the day in floods of tears. Twenty minutes before I had a critical business meeting, I was sobbing my head off and struggling to get into my business suit. I made my way to the meeeting, driving agressively and nearly getting into a fistfight with another driver. I show up with my face like an eggplant, and the men swallow my story of hay fever with ease, and I step out of myself to do my job, and not think at all.

This morning I made my way into London again, taking the train to Paddington, then the tube to a tube stop called Angel. I was very early for my meeting, and I found that I was a bit hungry. I usually wait and get a bagel from my favorite little stand in Paddington Station, but it was closed due to a problem with their oven. Being one of the few who doesn't find Pret-a-Manger's sandwiches to be the end-all of perfect, I decide to treat myself and go to McDonald's to get an Egg McMuffin and will make a second stop to grab a venti Americano from Starbucks to enjoy in the office.

I don't often have McDonald's-to be honest, I don't really enjoy their food that much-but I really wanted a greasy egg-y breakfast to settle into my stomach and into my arteries, and once my mind thought of it, my body wouldn't let the idea go.

I walk into McDonald's at the same time as a middle-aged couple. Right away, I know where the couple is from, without even having to ask.

They are dressed in urban sports-gear-fleece jackets, baseball caps, sunglasses slung on a cord around the neck and hiking shoes. Massive backpacks with enormous luggage tags hanging off of them and padlocks securing the zips are slung from their back. They are equipped with fanny packs that also hold a water bottle, and from around their neck I can see the string that is their "hidden" money holder.

They're Americans.

No doubt.

The woman heads off to get a table, while the man heads to the counter to order.

"Morning!" he booms at the counter, confirming to me that he is indeed one of my people. I go to a neighboring register and order my Egg McMuffin.

"Wow, I am so hungry!" he exclaims. The McDonald's employee smiles in return, fingers poised over the cash register. "Well, this is our last day here! We're going home tonight!" The American exclaims broadly.

"Well I hope you have a smooth flight then!" oozes the employee.

"Yeah, we've been coming here for breakfast every day for seven days. I wonder if you'll miss us!" jokes the American.

You've been in London for seven days and had McDonald's for breakfast every morning? Are you serious? I think. Go to one of the tiny cafes or bakeries in the neighborhood! McDonald's everyday? How boring!

"Right, let's order then!" booms the American. "We want two big Sausage McMuffin breakfasts and don't forget our hash browns. We want coffee, too. Oh, hang on-" the American turns to the restaurant and literally hollers across the room to his wife-"Marlene? You want a big coffee or a little coffee?"

I jumped at this and my mind is flooded with questions. Are we always this loud in public? Do we always shout like that in public places? Does Marlene want a big or little coffee?

"Yes, honey, a big coffee!" she yelled back. Ok then. Answers one of my questions anyway.

American man turns back to the counter. "Big coffee it is then! And we're going to need lots of jam, ketchup, and sugar with our meal, ok?"

I pay and quietly take my little bag of Egg McMuffin. As I walk out of the McDonald's, I hear him say to a counter person who has bustled behind with a silver basket full of frozen hash brown logs: "Hey, you're new! We've been here everyday and I haven't seen you yet! But we're going home tonight!"

The door swings shut behind me. A part of me is really embarrassed that my people are so loud and...well...revealing in a restaurant. The other half of me is aware that he's just a little over-friendly, and friendliness is something that all big cities the world over seem to lack.

I step onto the sidewalk, McMuffin in hand and I look up at the sky, hoping that in four days time the sun will be out. In four days time my eyes will stop being so puffy. In four days time....

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:56 AM | Comments (27) | Add Comment
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1 Oh dear, Helen has just discovered the age old tactic of british weather-men ... it's a simple case of jam every other day. That way they can promise good weather and nobody really notices when it doesn't turn up. My other favourite of the weather report is the ambiguous symbol - you know, the one with a cloud which has the sun peeking out from behind it whilst it rains, snows and thunders above certain parts of the country (normally the parts I'm in at the time) ... what is that supposed to tell you? Unlike the Great English weather, your personal status is far from ambiguous. At the moment it may seem like you're chasing that moment when everything snaps into sunlight and it may also seem that it reamins just out of reach, four days away. But at some point you'll forget to chase it and that's when you'll be able to look around and see that actually, whilst it's not the burning desert sun you wanted ... it's turned out nice again.

Posted by: Rob at May 14, 2004 12:13 PM (kXZI6)

2 *chuckle* Breathe deeply, hon.

Posted by: Courtney at May 14, 2004 12:32 PM (1Gy7B)

3 lol...gotta give him credit with going with what he knows. I mean why stick to your local McD's when you could goto London and eat at one of there's Things will go fine with the kids. Just be yourself and keep remind yourself that your not be asked to fill in as a parent. You a friend of there Dad's so all should be well. If nothing else you are considered "new blood" and someone for them to share all there stories and such with for the first time. On a side note do you know of any programs to help you kick the Starbucks thing. I cant stop having Frap's from Starbucks.

Posted by: Drew at May 14, 2004 01:22 PM (CBlhQ)

4 Speaking from someone that has spent most of their life in big (and sometimes very rude) cities, it sounds more like he's from a small town in the USA. Americans are alot of things and will continue to be alot of things because the country is so god damn big!

Posted by: Amynah at May 14, 2004 01:37 PM (tqQaS)

5 Egg McMuffin and Starbucks- that's exactly what I had yesterday! I kind of like our loudness. When my cousin and I were in Paris, we were in an outdoor market and a lady came up, loudly informing her friend- "I'll ask this girl where it is.." Then she put herself about five inches from my face, asking hesitantly- "Do 'ya speak a little English?" Shoulda seen her face when I replied- "Yeah, I"m from Tulsa."

Posted by: Allison at May 14, 2004 02:23 PM (YmC5g)

6 McDonalds for seven days in a row? What? Y'all don't have Burger King over there? Gotta say though - there are way worse things to be than too friendly and outgoing. ;-)

Posted by: Jim at May 14, 2004 02:27 PM (IOwam)

7 wish there were more people out there like him. At least friendly people.

Posted by: pylorns at May 14, 2004 02:56 PM (FTYER)

8 well, i can tell you right now that that American wasn't from Boston. people here are never EVER that friendly.

Posted by: kat at May 14, 2004 02:58 PM (FhSIP)

9 In four days time I'll be on a beach in Mexico. But, as always I'll be thinking of you. I don't know what I'm going to do without my morning ritual. Coffee and a stranger. I'll miss ya. Keep your chin up. Be happy and be yourself when the little ones arrive. Kids are amazing they can see through people being fake. Just be Helen and they'll love you.

Posted by: Tiffani at May 14, 2004 03:01 PM (xpNFK)

10 I'm so pleased to see that I'm not the only one who thinks Pret is shite. When I lived in London, I used to much prefer the local greasy caf foe lunch to Pret. Now, Pret has followed me to NY and I get to hear people exclaim over it again. Although, you may be amused to hear, Helen that McDonald's has acquired a 33% minority interest in Pret for what one analyst believes to be about 25 million pounds. So, either place you went, some money is going back to McDonald's. When I lived in Europe, and I wanted to try to fit in, I found it essential to lower my voice in restaurants. We Americans are simply more boisterous.

Posted by: Random Penseur at May 14, 2004 04:01 PM (LlPKh)

11 It's funny, when I was in So. America, McDonalds somehow tasted good again. I had not eaten there for atleast a year before my trip, but once there, I could only eat so many Baggette (French for baseball bat I am sure) sandwiches before needing a fix of good ole' American flavored grease, and soft doughy bread. Even if it was just fry's and a shake it made all the difference. As to the kids, keep in mind that you may not know in four days how they feel about you, those relationships can take much longer to develop. I have total faith in you though, you are way too likable for them to keep up any grudge they bring along for very long. =)

Posted by: Dane at May 14, 2004 04:31 PM (ncyv4)

12 Oh my God YES we are that freaking loud. Hands down the most annoying thing about my trip to London: Other Americans. Here I was trying to blend in (insofar as that's possible, and I guess really it isn't) and dropping my volume down several notches and learning to listen carefully to the soft-spoken natives . . . and then we get on the tube one day, my friend and I, and my friend who was not trying to adjust himself AT ALL turned to me and shouted, "Isn't this great?! I can't believe we're in ENGLAND! This is so awesome!!!" and I wanted to curl up in a corner of the car and DIE. As for the McDonald's every day . . . . . . uh . . . . . . er . . . I tried. God help me, I tried. But I think I wound up eating breakfast there five days out of the seven. Our first English breakfast was like some creature from a B-horror movie: It Came From the Swamp of Oleomargarine. I swear the sausage McMuffins I switched to after that were actually less greasy, and no, I never used to think that was possible. We weren't much better about lunch. We used to always grab that from a little cart in Victoria Station called Croissant! Croissant! (their exclamation marks, not mine). They were basically Hot Pockets, but since this was before the days of Hot Pockets we sort of considered it a novelty. And one night for dinner I swear we had Kentucky Fried Chicken. We were terrible. Terrible, terrible American tourists. But after I paid seven fucking pounds one day for a lunch of cream of celery soup and a sad little cup of dreadful coffee, I sort of forgave myself. I haven't even got to the night we ate at Pizza Hut, have I? Oh well. Maybe I'll confess that embarrassment on my own blog.

Posted by: ilyka at May 14, 2004 04:59 PM (T8/Db)

13 Helen- Hey, I think you will need to buy a sunlamp if you are to continue living in the London area. And keep your chin up, the "official" divorce is really nothing. Your divorce was final when you moved on in your heart and then again when you moved out of Sweden. It is yet another contraction expelling you forward in the birth of your next life stage. Take care!

Posted by: amelia at May 14, 2004 05:36 PM (3d5i9)

14 He might have been a distant relative of my grandmother's, who has time and time again humiliated me with her need to share unsolicited personal details with store clerks. She would begin, and I would cringe, trying to make my small body already smaller, hiding behind the counter so the poor checkout person couldn't see me. And this would work, until the time in which she would say, "And this here is my granddaughter," grabbing my hand and dragging me back into sight. "She's in town, visiting me. We're going to head on over to the great-grandmother's house now." I have died a thousand deaths over this. I promise you, for all my obnoxiousness, I am not American in this way. Or a loud way, either.

Posted by: the girl at May 14, 2004 05:39 PM (IglhY)

15 Well...er...uh...be Helen with out the...um...PMS! It's always fun when you are observing humanity. ilyka I'm waiting for the embarrassing Pizza Hut story...

Posted by: Roger at May 14, 2004 05:52 PM (8S2fE)

16 thou thinks they self is so rightous - you're from america - why not be nice to people who are trying to see the world instead of behaving like they have a disease because - opps - they're in a mcdonalds and they're loud and they dress funny. not everyone has a pallet for tea and crumpits or casual wear - but then again you're in europe and you're drinking STARBUCKS! bahhhhhaaaaa

Posted by: alaskanfruitfly at May 14, 2004 06:04 PM (da2OB)

17 I don't drink tea. You can sign me up for the crumpets, though. Sorry-I am not going native. I just observe, get amazed, and observe some more.

Posted by: Helen at May 14, 2004 06:06 PM (koa5E)

18 One thing you can be assured of: in four days we will still be here, ready to lend an ear, ready to give you what you need, ready to love you even more, yep that's every four days of your life. PS. the sun will shine in four days but not until you post your list...........LOL just some thoughts from an old.....

Posted by: greyheadedstranger at May 14, 2004 08:58 PM (AiWU/)

19 It sounds like my brother-in-law visited England He and my father-in-law both talk to cashiers and waitresses as though they're old friends. But both are very friendly and kind hearted. It's quite the paradox: we want people to be kind and friendly, and then we're often put off by their friendliness. Or is it the volume? Sometimes it's both.

Posted by: Solomon at May 14, 2004 09:14 PM (t5Pi1)

20 They may not be what all americans are like, but they are very much the type of american that gets noticed, that becomes the stereotype, simply because they're so in-your-face. And I can understand the food thing - maybe they're just doing what's familiar. But even if I'd have mcdonalds for breakfast, I doubt I could do it seven days in a row! But I did eat McDonalds in the US, and I looked for it in Singapore (airport) too. I didn't recognise anything else, and back then, I didn't know I liked asian food!

Posted by: melanie at May 14, 2004 09:52 PM (jDC3U)

21 Helpful hint, fruitfly: A pallet is the thing one puts under a crate or piece of cargo such that a forklift can transport it. A palette is a selection of colors, or the thing upon which paint is mixed. The palate is part of the mouth, or a taste for something. The Palatine is a hill in Rome. Does that help? If not, I could use smaller words. (PS. I'm not very loud in shopping or dining establishments, myself. Unless it's a generally loud place.)

Posted by: Sigivald at May 14, 2004 11:35 PM (4JnZM)

22 McMuffins and Americans...must be pretty depressing during a time of grieving. But if you go to McDonald's you're going to find this sort of thing. On the other hand, fuck it. Sometimes an Egg McMuffin is comfort food. You will find happiness.

Posted by: Denny at May 15, 2004 05:21 AM (mTlK4)

23 I'm just back from the USA and found Americans very friendly, maybe not at all in NY but over-friendly and nice in Atlanta. It is sometimes pretty funny to see a group of Americans interact with a group of Europeans and you can make out instantly who is American and who isnt.

Posted by: plumpernickel at May 15, 2004 06:08 AM (xq9f+)

24 Wow I can't believe no one's mentioned http://www.supersizeme.com/ yet! This is a documentary about what happens to a guy who, as an experiment, lives on McDonalds for a month. BTW, did you here that Micky Dee's CEO just dies of a heart atack? They replaced him with an Ausy who now appears to have cancer!

Posted by: Steve P at May 15, 2004 09:43 AM (tlQEA)

25 Eye M embarASSed! =:-o I just read my post. Sorry about the typo. Next time I'll proof read b4 I post :-p

Posted by: Steve P at May 15, 2004 09:45 AM (tlQEA)

26 Helen said: "Are we always this loud in public? Do we always shout like that in public places?" Ahhhh, you're starting to hear Americans with British ears, as I predicted. The answers are of course, "no, and no" --but you really, really notice the people that are, and the ones that are are usually American, sometimes Spanish. Hope you've been enjoying the hot, gorgeous weather over the past couple of days! On a vaguely related breakfast note: have you noticed yet that the ketchup here is lots sweeter? And British breakfasts with their FRIED BREAD (yes, fried bread) and baked beans and everything swimming in butter: with all the extra fat and sugar in everying, it's amazing that the Americans are so much fatter.

Posted by: angel at May 16, 2004 12:54 AM (zfiwL)

27 Re: bonding with strangers who are serving me in public places: Yes, I do it, my two teenage boys cringe while I do it, and usually I cringe too when I look back on it... Yet my brothers do it too and when I'm with them I watch in awe and think what great warm-hearted amusing guys they are. Why do I judge myself so much more harshly? And we're not American, we're Canadian. Even while I'm doing it, I can clearly see whether the server is an extrovert who is totally enjoying the momentary connection with another human, or an introvert who just can't bear that I'm exposing a few passing thoughts and feelings in his/her presence. Re: Macdonalds: I don't care for anything they serve after 11 a.m., but an Egg MacMuffin is a thing of beauty and the ultimate breakfast food for travellers. I think I enjoy it so much because I associate it with road trips when the boys were little and sitting down in a restaurant meant 90 minutes delay, whereas going through a drive-through got us on the road on time ...

Posted by: Frances at May 16, 2004 03:20 AM (5UcZp)

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Sitting here this morning, packaged up in my living room with a whole Bodum of coffee at my disposal. The sky is grey outside, and the temperature hovers around the "wear a jacket" temperature. Today needs to be a good day, it needs to be a better day. It needs to be a time when I look forward and realize that this is the bed that I made, and my bed has someone else in it.

That irritating pop song "Cry Me a River"? I got your river, baby. Last night I finally gave up and went to bed, after blogging and watching E.R. and trying not to think. I went to bed, turned off the lights, and in that empty bed I cried and cried and cried. I cried until my face felt it was on fire. Until the pillow was soaked and I felt creases of salt under my skin.

Mr. Y and I talked very briefly sometime after the midnight mark. He was tired, stressed, and worn out. I was no picture of stability either. I don't really know where we stand this morning, I don't know where things are. My tears and sadness was no reflection on him-I wasn't broken up because of him, I was broken up because it was the end of my marriage.

X Partner Unit and I couldn't communicate. We couldn't talk to each other about our feelings. His anger was scary and relentless. But there were also a number of things about him that I liked a lot, little traits and quirks that he had that made my day. He never thought I was mental. He wouldn't leave the house without hugging me good-bye, even if it meant having to wake me up, even if we had been fighting the entire night before. He defended me, no matter what.

I cry and mourn because I hurt someone, and I hate hurting people. I cry and mourn because that era of my life really is over. I cry and mourn because it's hard when your dreams break and fall about your feet in discarded bits of folly, reminders of the silliness that dreams are.

I have a headache leveraged somewhere in the middle of my head, a combination of wine, sleeping tablet, and crying. I woke up this morning with my face the size of a dinner plate, my eyes swollen in resemblance of a hay fever sufferer camping out in a poppy field. A hailstorm of used kleenex littered the bed, clutched into odd shapes and worn balls by the contours of my hands or my body.

Mr. Y should be back soon and I hope the talks (if talks are needed even) go well. I asked him last night on the phone-can we make sure we hug each other before we leave the house? Even if we wake each other up, even if we are angry?

He said yes.

A part of me eased up and felt lighter, glad that one of my favorite quirks can still live on.

I have a letter in my head, and here is where it will remain. It won't make him feel better for me to send it, but it will make me feel better to say it, so here it is.

Dear X Partner Unit,

I am so sorry. I did love you, and always will. I will never regret you.

I want to thank you for being there for me. I want to apologize for trying to kill myself on your watch, and I want to thank you for holding me tight in that hospital, and not letting them keep me there. Thank you for believing in me when I couldn't believe in myself-with Company X, with my writing, and for not being as crazy as I think I am.

I want you to have a long and beautiful life. I want you to find someone that puts stars in your eyes and laughter in your soul. I want you to meet and date and fall in love, that dizzying spectacle of hope and fizz that falling in love is. I want you to get married and have beautiful children, lavishing them with the paternal love that I know you overflow with. I want you to grow old on the veranda, holding the hand of the person who came into your life and saved you, the one you will love above all loves, leathery hands clasped tight to each other.

It's like that song we both love-Green Day's "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)"-

For what it's worth, it was worth all the while.
It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

If you ever need a friend to talk to, I am just a phone call away.

Have a good life, baby. I will try to have one, too.

Love,
Me

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:03 AM | Comments (16) | Add Comment
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I just talked to my X Partner Unit. In the background, I could hear one of my cats, Mumin, crying in the background. I could see her, even. Snaking around X Partner Unit's ankels as he stood there, holding onto the phone.

We got the court papers.

It's official.

As of today, we are divorced.

And I don't know how I feel, I don't know what to think. Mr. Y is many miles away and not available for hugs and reassurance, and anyway I don't know that I could talk about this-we had a problem discussing it in the past once, and I haven't broached the subject since.

Today his day is marked with seeing his gorgeous children, a stressful day at work, and negotiating the details of his divorce with his ex-wife.

My day was marked by trains, silence, worry, and now divorce.

On the other end of that phone is a man that I really did love. That I always will love. No, he wasn't the fiery passion that is Mr. Y. He took care of me when I went crazy, scared me with his anger and temper, defended me like a soldier, and couldn't talk to me nor I with him. I have to get my things out of the house immediately now, the house is all his and my title now truly and fully Ms.

I am so glad to be with Mr. Y and so sorry that I hurt X Partner Unit.

So at the end of the day, I am happy, sad, devastated but free.

Maybe that explains the burning hateful lump in my throat, or the reason of why I am crying.

Signing off with my bottle of wine now, and my box of Kraft macaroni and cheese (laugh if you must, but right now, I just wanted something from my past, a comfort food that always comforted, a reassurance that always reassured, a constant that will always make sense in a crazy world.)

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:35 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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1 Sounds like today is one of those simultaneous hello and goodbye moments for you. Congratulations and good luck.

Posted by: the girl at May 12, 2004 08:44 PM (IglhY)

2 After a 18 hour long working day, with things on the right track but tired... I can only say "Love from here". Miguel.

Posted by: msd at May 12, 2004 09:13 PM (BwQpC)

3 Love you too, Miguel. *hic*

Posted by: Helen at May 12, 2004 09:27 PM (+WlJy)

4 Congratulations and hugs...

Posted by: ember at May 12, 2004 10:45 PM (f0SBT)

5 Milestone moment, love. *hugs*

Posted by: Courtney at May 12, 2004 11:57 PM (1Gy7B)

6 AS with everything you have overcom so far, you will overcome this. It is another milestone in your life, and each of those milestones makes you the person you are. Love 'n' hugs sweetie, you deserve them AxXx

Posted by: Lemurgirl at May 13, 2004 12:13 AM (YcruH)

7 Wine and Kraft macaroni and cheese? When do you open your restaurant?

Posted by: Simon at May 13, 2004 06:48 AM (UKqGy)

8 This may sound harsh. You claim in your previous post that all you want in a relationship is support and to root each other like rabbits. However in a much earlier post, somewhere in the archives, you also say that you want children very much. You say the want is so strong it's almost physical. Don't value your relationship with a much older man, who doesn't want any further children, so highly that it allows you to deny yourself children. In ten years time you may not be rooting like rabbits. I know, I know, you are shaking your head. But funny things happen to the libido on the way to age 50, babe, especially if he's much, much older - and that goes double if he's got English dental hygiene. Don't give up children for this man. If you really want them, start looking now. You don't have all the time in the world. There, I said it'd sound harsh.

Posted by: Helen at May 15, 2004 10:37 AM (mWgXe)

9 Oh, Helen, sweetie - I feel like you could be my little sister. Kraft Macaroni and Cheese is my big comfort food, too. There is something about you that makes so many of us want to protect you from hurt and pain. So many of us are rooting for your happiness. Follow your heart, sweet Helen. If you ever end up in our area (Leavenworth, KS), call and you have our guest room and our friendship. Please don't let anyone hurt you again. And please, don't hurt yourself again. You did a great job with little Jeff in the movie - you are fine, you are good, you are more than worthwhile. Please remember that!

Posted by: Beth Donovan at May 18, 2004 02:41 AM (igCu1)

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I am up at oh-God-hundred in order to catch a train to Ipswich for a meeting today (see-I learnt my lesson! None of this driving across London nonsense for me anymore!) It's going to be a long and tiring day, and I am suffering the boulder-like feeling of PMS settling into my bones to boot. The PMS fairy came and stuffed rocks in my breasts last night I think. It's annoying-I'd have preferred a quarter under my pillow.

Mr. Y is away tonight, kicking off what is a wonderful and happy time for him and a confusing one for me. It's a major part of his life that he misses and that misses him, and one which I have never been a part of. It's a side of him that I have never known, and a piece of his life that, if I am honest, I envy a bit.

His kids are flying to England for 5 days.

He's going to pick them up tonight and spend the night with them at his Mum's. Then he comes back Thursday morning while his kids spend two days with their grandparents and their cousins, and everyone is thrilled to bits that the kids are coming and excited to see them. And I don't blame them one bit.

A little part of me wonders if his family thinks they won't see the two kids much because of me, that I will try to intervene or cut out parts of his life. This isn't the case, and I wish I could assure them of that if it is a concern. Mr. Y's children-Melissa and Jeff-are absolutely going to have access to him as much as possible. This is, above all, a family. Although the nucleus of the family may be seperated, the bond of the children will always be there, and may it always be so.

Melissa and Jeff are coming back up here Saturday and spending the weekend with Mr. Y and I.

In our flat.

And oh my God, I am so nervous that they won't like me.

They met me some years ago, but I'm so nervous that they have heard horror stories about me. That they have had the well poisoned against me. This isn't a reflection of Mr. Y's ex-I know how it feels to have a loyalty to a parent during a split-up. I know how it feels to want to defend your family against the hurt of a newcomer. I had it myself-when our parents split up (the final time) we all came out of the event, in the end, with a new Stepfather and Stepmother. We lived with my mother and Stepfather. We almost never saw my father or stepmother-and when we did, it was hell, the kind of difficulty that would get you out of purgatory for a few years per visit.

Our Stepmother became known as Stepmonster. She wanted us to think of her like a mother, to be close to us, to have us understand how integral she was to our father's survival. She flew off the handle if she thought we were interferring. She wanted all access between us and our father. She refused financial responsibility on his behalf on things that he really should have paid for (i.e. doctor bills. I mean...come on.)

I may be a bit biased. Looking back, I can see that there was a bit of well-poisoning going on, but even still, I think there was a serious division in personality compatibility. She got angry if we opened a kitchen cupboard. She tried to lecture me on how to "cook for my man" while my father went outside and cleaned out the gutters. The truth is, I knew how to cook. And I would've much preferred cleaning out the gutters than knowing how to make wontons.

I think we might've accepted her then. But not if you make us. Not if you don't let us figure these things out for ourselves. Although maybe that's not even true-our loyalty was to our mother, and come hell and high water, she's the party we would've defended.

The family had a complete split then. Anger seperated all factions of the family. My father and his Stepmonster went out of our lives, banished to the nether regions of not-related relations, recipients of the requisite birthday card and token Christmas present that had no emotional content. Jokes were made on her behalf, and a complete dismissal of anything to do with her followed-her birthday, their anniversary-it was all ignored.

Over time, either she thawed or I thawed. Over time, I have begun to actually like her, and she has begun to actually like me (I think). She sends thoughtful gifts on holidays and birthdays, things you can tell she did some thinking about. She gets a birthday card and Christmas present from me. I don't want her as a mother or stepmother figure, but it's nice to know that there is someone looking after my father, making sure that he's happy, equipped with the latest in Titanium golf-clubs, and well-fed with wontons.

And Melissa and Jeff? I can understand why our Stepmonster wanted us to know how integral she was to our father's life, since I would like the same thing here, but I won't go the same path that my Stepmother took. I don't want to be a mother-figure either. I am not anywhere near their mother, and I would absolutely never try to be. What I do want to be is a friend. Someone they can talk to. Someone who they don't feel they are betraying their mother by getting along with. Someone that they can laugh with and have a good time.

Only time will tell. But in the meantime, I am scared stiff and nervous as hell that maybe my time of karma has come, and it's my turn to be the Stepmonster for a while.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 05:14 AM | Comments (17) | Add Comment
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I used to be a feminist. A very strident, angry one in fact. About the time I hit college, I was coming into my own-I had only ever had one boyfriend, a complete nimrod that I wound up marrying at 18 and had left at 20. So college was my first time as a single woman, a time on my own and in an element that I really enjoyed.

And I fell head-first into the feminist world.

After switching tracks in university and leaving the world of medicine-full-time stress and masses of competition-I headed into anthropology, which I took only as a lark in school to fulfill a social sciences credit. I took the class, and wound up loving it. So I left the world of future lucrative salaries, 24-hour shifts and tearful, grateful families that shake my hand and tell them I saved their world (I was going into neo-natology, so I think it would be the parents of my patients then) behind, and grabbed my sandals and my various books on the Dobe Kung, Simone de Beauvoir, and Lucy, and went into a study that was not only interesting....it was very, very easy for me.

I also took a few women's studies classes, which enhanced my independence as a feminist. Coming out of a complete mistake of a marriage, I was free. I was free, and I wanted it that way. I took an in-depth study on women in culture, and from Day One it was interesting. You walk into the room, and it was a sea of women, all without make-up, all looking like their crunchy granola goodness. I was there as well-long hair in a ponytail, face scrubbed of make-up, wearing men's boxer shorts and a T-shirt (hey...it was college. One didn't have to dress up.) and sat down. There were two men in the back row, cowering and looking wary.

Day One we talked about the word "woman", and that it contained the word "man" in it. A very tough and butch-looking woman commanded the discussion and in no time, I was on my feet in agreement. Why should the word that defines us contain the subjective word "man"? Why must we be contained and controlled by that which should no longer control us? Why must the church continue to bang on about the sins of Eve, when for all we know she picked the damn apple as Adam mentioned he wanted some apple pie, and Eve simply wanted to be accommodating?

By the end of the class that day, the two men had been run out.

From then on, it was All Estrogen, All the Time.

I don't mean to enforce stereotypes, simply to illustrate what my world was like. I did become an angry feminist. I read feminist philosophy. I was indignant. I wanted to be accepted for who I was, not what I looked like (I never stopped with the shaving though. Some things were a bridge too far.) I wanted to be desired and loved for my mind, not the mere fact that I am female. I raged against the male machine. I hated the male race for holding me down into a set role and limiting my freedom. I too wanted to be called a "womyn", to escape the confines of being "just a woman".

I am pretty sure I would've become a lesbian, if only I had been in touch with my inner beaver at the time.

My thesis that year was a rhetoric of hatred and revenge. I wrote a business case for taking all the men in the U.S. and caging them into the state of Nevada. Every last one of them. Similar "confinement camps" would be set up worldwide for the male populations. But I wasn't too mean-the men had ample access to hot dogs and beer, and since Nevada is a desert state, the men would earn one hour of air conditioning for every orgasm they gave a woman, who would visit the camp purely for sexual or procreation purposes. See, we would be running the country. We would just visit Nevada to get it on.

I got an A.

I am not sure when I stopped being such a militant feminist, but it faded out slowly over time. My edges softened. I realized that some faces just look better with a bit of make-up, and mine was one of them. It wasn't about looking good to please men. It was about looking good to feel good about myself. There are some aspects that have stayed with me-I want my own career. I want to make decisions about my pension plans myself. And above all, if I marry you, don't call me Mrs. ___. If I ever married Mr. Y (and that's not on the table right now), then there's no way I want to be referred to as Mrs. Y by people. I have a name, and it's Helen.

And I stopped caring about the spelling of the word "woman". It's spelled that way, likely for historic purposes, and to be honest-it's just a word. It's a scientific definition, but it doesn't have to imply subjugation unless I want to read it that way. My name is Helen (well, in real life it really isn't, but you get my point), but that doesn't mean that I am responsible for launching 1,000 ships. It just means it's a moniker.

I can look back and realize that I became such a hard-core feminist since I was so angry at men. I was angry at men, including my father, my ex-husband, and every other lout that came along in my daily life. I was angry I had been raped. I was brimming over with daily bits of rage against men. This, in no way, justifies or supports the claim that feminists are, as a whole, anti-man. I can only speak for myself on this one, and disliking men was the instigator for me. I had a lot of anger, and the stream fed in on it. But I am glad that I went through this period. It taught me to be independent (albeit, too independent). It taught me that I don't need a man.

It taught me that I wanted a man.

If you tell me that a woman's role is in the home, or in the kitchen, then I will tell you (in an eloquent way of course) to fuck off. A woman's role is wherever she wants it to be. Does she want to be in the kitchen? Then that's where her role is, and she reserves the right to change that in the future. Does she want it to be in the corporate world? So be it. This is not exclusive to women, the same goes for men-a man's role is where he wants it to be. Does he want it to be abssailing down the face of Mt. Everest? Fine. Maybe a family isn't the best idea for him at that time, but hey-it's your life. Live it.

If I am in the kitchen cooking "my man" a meal, it's not because it's expected of me, it's because I want to do it. I think people mistake nurture for obedience. I want my partner to be happy, and I want to be a source of that happiness. If it so happens that I love to cook and he loves my food, then we have an ideal set-up. If I can't fucking stand cooking, then perhaps I won't be doing it so often-I would do it for him as a treat. I think it works the same in reverse. About the only expectations I want in a relationship is that we support each other, love each other, and are willing to have sex like rabbits. Everything else-his willingness to bring me coffee in bed in the morning, my willingness to do the dishes, his willingness to take me out to dinner once a week, my willingness to drop off his post at the post office-that's just icing on the cake.

Women and men are seperate, and we always will be. Women and men are equal, and in my eyes, we always need to be. Is it possible that my partner owns me?

Yes. Insofar as I own him, too.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:06 AM | Comments (28) | Add Comment
Post contains 1392 words, total size 7 kb.

1 that is so true! I love being owned. And I love owning him too

Posted by: melanie at May 11, 2004 09:13 AM (jDC3U)

2 Most militant feminists grow up. Heh. I have never felt that a man was keeping me down; and that's saying a LOT considering some of my past relationships. No, it was MY perception of the relationship and what I did within it that held me back. Ahhh, youth. I have always enjoyed the differences (and similarities) between the male and female person. It's as it should be, I should think. Heh.

Posted by: Emma at May 11, 2004 09:28 AM (kpNlZ)

3 Reciprocal ownership is awesome. I think that's something that no militant feminist or misogynist is ever going to feel. Screw 'em - serves them right! ;-)

Posted by: Jim at May 11, 2004 10:37 AM (saeHM)

4 as a communitarian-anarchist, i don't like ownership. i like sharing. and i've never been a man-hating feminist, although i am a radical feminist, as opposed to a liberal feminist. i do believe that patriarchy holds us back, and i use 'us' universally. it holds back women *and* men ... holds them back from expressing themselves in all sorts of wonderful and creative ways. my women's studies classes were fantastic. we need to immerse in the opposite direction as an antidote to what we get in our mainstream culture. too bad they're not required classes. but in the u.s., the people with power don't want to share. or reveal the system. okay. end of rant.

Posted by: hetty at May 11, 2004 11:12 AM (zyqdt)

5 that is a really good entry.

Posted by: jade at May 11, 2004 11:18 AM (Lulh1)

6 hehe...don't you know that a man is nothing but a badly modified woman? *grin*

Posted by: croxie at May 11, 2004 12:18 PM (FuELm)

7 I will never look at Las Vegas the same way again.

Posted by: ilyka at May 11, 2004 01:40 PM (9wm7L)

8 In the bible, Nimrod was a mighty hunter. These days his name is synonymous with putz....

Posted by: gymrat at May 11, 2004 01:47 PM (nnOa7)

9 Which is more important, the baseball or the bat? Each has a very different role, but both are equally important to the game. It's boring if you only have one or the other. We should acknowledge that men and women are equal yet very different? Each has a natural role. On a humorous note, feminists can't win with the bra burning thing. If they wear a bra to make their breasts more shapely, men are turned on. If they go braless, men are turned on even more

Posted by: Solomon at May 11, 2004 01:54 PM (t5Pi1)

10 Nicely said! It's funny you should write that today. I was just telling my other's half sister yesterday that being in love can be a pain in the ass, especially if you're comfortable in your own skin. I'm not with her brother because I need to be with a man, I'm with her brother because I was a dumb ass and fell in love (I don't really think that way all the time).

Posted by: Amynah at May 11, 2004 02:07 PM (tqQaS)

11 I agree in most things you said, a womans place is where she wants to as well as a mans. But psychologically women and men fill their own specific gender roles not because they have been told "get in the kitchen and make me some pie" but because psychologically and physiologically they feel the need to fill certain roles. Most important example is makeup. Women have been wearing makeup or painting their faces since pre-historic times. Men also from time to time have worn make up/paint or done ritulistic dances. All of this is to attract a mate, not to make themselves feel good about theirselves. You can fight instinct, but its not something you can win all the time against.

Posted by: pylorns at May 11, 2004 03:25 PM (FTYER)

12 Get in the kitchen and make me some FUCKING MIGAS!

Posted by: MJ at May 11, 2004 03:27 PM (PB+b7)

13 I've been laid off since after Christmas. My place is NOT in the home. I enjoy being home but I don't feel that I belong here. I hate cooking, but I'm forced to do it to avoid a fight. I do not wear make-up. I don't like to wear make-up. I have never been a feminist. I am who I am. It's not always easy.

Posted by: Sharon at May 11, 2004 05:45 PM (Cwm8E)

14 I left out the whole part of.. there are exceptions to the rule. Anyway. Survivor is coming back - http://survivor.mu.nu mark your calanders.

Posted by: pylorns at May 11, 2004 10:23 PM (FTYER)

15 Growing up with two radical feminists (My mom & my sister) I've come to a point where I'm pretty much amused by the whole thing. One of the great philosophers of our time said: "Women will never be equal to men. What they are, and what they can do makes them far superior to men, and as such they should demand special privileges, all that the market will bear. For women, mere equality is a disaster" ~R.A. Heinlein Amen. There are so many differences between men and women that go beyond culture. They are different. Deliciously, delectably, wonderfully different. And I wouldn't want it any other way.

Posted by: Easy at May 11, 2004 10:57 PM (oQKRL)

16 Why does everyone want to send their "unwanted" material to Nevada?

Posted by: Dave T. at May 11, 2004 11:01 PM (hkvGr)

17 I minored in Women's Studies in college and have been quite the feminist in my day. Like you, my feminist views have softened. I've read Simone de Beauvoir, Betty Friedan and a host of others. Although my views on feminism are less strict than in college, while litigating mass tort cases I can definitely see where strong feminism was once necessary. The fact that we no longer feel the need to subscribe to radical views is an indication of the progress women have made. I'm reminded of one of my favorite quotes, "If I can see farther than anyone has before me, it is because I stand on the shoulders of giants."

Posted by: Jennifer at May 11, 2004 11:11 PM (6Quju)

18 bravo! great post. I totally agree. I still consider myself a feminist, but I like to look feminine and wear makeup and all that girly shit. I think feminism should also be about embracing our femininity, not trying to become more masculine. I agree with you about the "Mrs. ____" thing. I didn't take my husband's name, not because I didn't like it or love him, but because I didn't want to give up my identity. So I still am a feminist in that way, too. But if someone wants to drop their maiden name, that's fine, too.

Posted by: dawn at May 12, 2004 01:14 AM (0aly1)

19 Yea! Good thing Luuka made it. Sorry, I have been in the Bahamas the last two weeks and would have done anything to assuage your worries about Luuka. Brass. PS miss two weeks of your life, Helen, and I'm damn near out of the loop.

Posted by: Brass at May 12, 2004 02:07 AM (t5HVs)

20 Two for two. I really love your no-holds-barred, totally honest, coming-from-years-of-real-life-experience way of talking about things, and what you say rings so true. It's very refreshing.

Posted by: Denny at May 12, 2004 03:56 AM (mTlK4)

21 Helen - I like your idea about Nevada. I think if you'd just add some pizza and television to the recipe then 99% of men would vounteer for your program (view it as Heaven on Earth) - you wouldn't have to force them or waste time erecting prison fences etc ;-) I also can't see our Helen being gay. She's just waaay to feminine. (Puts on flame retardent underwear and ducks for cover) The whole gender thing is pretty interesting though especially to anyone who has an interest in Antropology/Pschology/natural sciences. There's an article in today's Guardian about those twin boys where one of them was brought up as a girl. Apparently she/he just committed suicide. Very sad but very interesting. Jennifer - interesting comment but I don't quite follow what you're saying re mass torts. Are you referring to the Dalcon (sp?) sheild class action thing?

Posted by: Steve P at May 12, 2004 04:10 AM (KvWin)

22 steve p... being feminine has nothing at all to do with being gay!!

Posted by: melanie at May 12, 2004 10:11 AM (jDC3U)

23 I find the post and most of the reponses to it extraordinary. It's not surprising that you're less angry these days, Helen, and that you would tone down the beliefs you held when you took women's studies classes. That happens to most of us. I'd like to ask you about a few of the comments you made (and received). For instance: to paraphrase, 'woman is just a word, with a long history, and it doesn't have to be offensive'. Would you say the same thing about 'nigger', 'kike', 'yid', etc.? If someone called you a bitch, would you think they were just confused, given that you are clearly not a female dog? If a word has a history, isn't it important to know that history? Surely your women's studies classes taught that usually that history is made and written by men, for men and to their advantage? What exactly does 'feminine' or 'masculine' mean? You know more about anthropology than me, but doesn't that literature agree that concepts of gender are social constructs? What exactly has make-up got to do with being feminine anyway? If I were aboriginal, I would tell you all about my make-up. If I were a native American, I might tell you about war paint. I would find it bizarre that you associate make up with 'feminine'. It is 'feminine' in our society to wear make up, because that is the categorisation our society has developed for us. We (men and women) perpetuate those categories by claiming that 'wearing make up is just me showing my femininity' as someone commented. Feminists who eschew make up aren't trying to become more like men, they're becoming less like "women" as it is currently understood. Kudos to Jennifer, not just for quoting Newton, but for everything she said.

Posted by: Andrew at May 12, 2004 01:17 PM (pT2rh)

24 Melanie - SteveP was just addressing Helen's comment, "I am pretty sure I would've become a lesbian, if only I had been in touch with my inner beaver at the time." Men and women are equal in value, but multiple people have pointed out they're very different physically and mentally. Men are physically superior, and women are superior at multitasking (and the list goes on). There are exceptions to both rules, but in general they're true. Women can burn their bras and trash their make-up, and men can become sensitive, effeminate cry-babies; but in the end each is abandoning what the other sex really wants. Men do desire beautiful, sexy, feminine women (doesn't mean they can't be smart too); and women do desire strong, studly, solid men (doesn't mean they can't be sensitive too). Darwin's theory of "natural selection" simply stated that the strong and attractive survive and procreate. So if you guys want to abandon your natural roles go right ahead. I've embraced mine and ended up with the very pretty, very smart, and very happy super-model Mrs. Solomon and precious Angel1 and Angel2. Men and women complement each other so well when they each embrace their natural roles. Why fight it?

Posted by: Solomon at May 12, 2004 01:46 PM (t5Pi1)

25 Steve P. -- I don't do any Dalcon Shield work (thankfully). I simply meant that the area of mass tort litigation is still fairly male-dominated. I have been to more than one deposition/hearing/document review where I was the only woman there. Although I've never been mistaken for the court reporter simply because of my gender, I know several women who have. Almost all of my lawyer-friends in this area are guys because most of the folks in the litigation are guys. It raises all sorts of interesting "feminist" issues (i.e. I've been dressed down in court before for wearing a pants suit -- I now only wear skirt suits to court, as they draw less attention and command more respect). Andrew-- Thanks!

Posted by: Jennifer at May 12, 2004 02:52 PM (6Quju)

26 I don't always wear makeup either. I'd like to think that I'm such a natural beauty that I don't have to, but truth be told, I look alot better when I do. I really don't consider it a tool of repression by the man, I figure it's kind of a priveledge. Marginal looking women can do alot to improve their looks, but guys pretty much are what they are. Look around the office sometime, and see what I mean- women wearing everything from power suits to very causal khakis, while men pretty much wear a 'uniform' of suit pants, tie and button-up shirt. I guess it's all it how you look at it.

Posted by: Allison at May 12, 2004 06:12 PM (YmC5g)

27 For me, a word can be just that-butI am talking about myself only, here. If a stranger calls me a bitch, then I will just shrug it off. They don't know me, they have no idea if I can be a bitch or not. If it's someone close to me, then my feelings are going to be hurt and there will be some discussing. The words you listed are not categorized JUST as words-although they are words, they also (in my book) count as slander. An undercurrent of hatred there. I don't allow racial slander of any kind around me, no matter what (except my elder relatives, and then I just ignore them. There's no stopping them)-I have blogged about it before-some words have daggers in them, but I think that's perhaps also up to the individual to define. Makeup is not a feminist creation for the following reason: anthropologists (including my babe, Helen Fisher) have long documented how women use artificial cosmetics to appear more attractive to men. The rouged cheeks=a sex-induced blood rush to the face. Painted lips=same thing. Mascara eyes=hooded sexuality. It's all there. And throughout history, it's been continued as a way of appealing to men (although men have, previously, also used makeup. And I find black nail polish on men a turn on, I have no idea why). But I am not necessarily trying it on for the male population when I put lipstick on-I generally want to look and feel attractive to both sexes, honestly. TO be an attractive person. I didn't define feminine and masculine in that post, since I think that things are rather amorphous more than we would like to think. I'm just kinda' liberated that way, I guess.

Posted by: Helen at May 12, 2004 06:14 PM (+WlJy)

28 Jennifer - Duh! That's what you meant. I completely missed that! Sorry! Yes, you're right until very recently (and even now in many parts of the States) there's this view amoungst insecure male lawyers that female attorneys should do divorce law and wills and probate. And yeah unwritten dress codes can be a real issue and vary from county to county. In many ways I reckon it's easier for women in Australia (and the UK and other Commonwealth countries) because everyone male & female just wears a wig and gown to court ;-) And yes societal norms as to what's "feminine" or "masculine" do vary e.g. the war paint/make up for men. But a lot seems to be hardwired too e.g. the story I referenced below. Not sure how the breakdown works though. Was just posting my .02

Posted by: Steve P at May 13, 2004 01:02 AM (KvWin)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

Mr. Y and I have been looking for accommodation.

The flat with Lloyd is very convenient for his job (it's a 5 minute walk), but it takes a very long commute for me into London, so we've decided to move somewhere that allows me to arrive into Waterloo Station (anyone think of Abba?) instead of Paddington Station.

And after spending two days tramping up and down England looking at properties, we've narrowed it down to two.

The agony.

One of them is in a town that sounds like the name of a poncy Harvard student. We can never remember the name, and when we do remember it we get it wrong, so we've taken to calling it Whitney Houston. The other option is in a very large town called Guildford, but I felt so bad for Whitney Houston being called its wrong name that I started calling it Grab Bag.

So we turn to each other from time to time, like a quiz show host: "What's it going to be, Whitney Houston or Grab Bag?"

The Whitney Houston one is a mid-terrace number in a small village, with a front and rear garden, hard wood floors, refurbished, and is on the edge of an enormous cricket green and its pub. Now, I still don't know much about cricket (sorry, Simon), but I can see the attraction of watching a game in the sunny warmth.

If that ever happens.

The other one is a detached house, in a big town, with paved gardens and pink carpets. I have clearly been in Sweden too long, as I now just hate carpets. I look at them and think of the whole legions of mites, filth, and dust waiting to attack my nasal passages. That all of those commercials I saw as a kid with the evil dust bug in animated glory perhaps really does have something to it. Give me hardwood floors and wear out my socks any day.

It's when we are looking at homes that the differences between our languages really comes to play. We go to a realtor (estate agent) and look at property to rent (let). We see one duplex (semi-detached) that is quite lovely on the outside, but on the inside it's horrible. Wood-paneled walls, brown kitchen tile, brown shag-pile carpeting (as you know, a shag is something different in England). I hated it on first site.

The agent turns to Mr. Y and I, who are standing there with pasted-on smiles of horror.

"What do you think?" Agent-man asks.

"It needs some updating." Mr. Y says nicely.

"It looks like the Brady Bunch!" I wail.

They both look at me blankly.

Ohmigod, they have no idea about the Brady Bunch.

"I have no idea what she's talking about either." says Mr. Y to Agent-Man.

"You know? It's a story...of a lovely lady... " I start singing falteringly.

They blink.

"Who was bringing up three very lovely girls...? " I sing, ending it as a question.

It's a no-go.

Anyway, we should know within a day or so if we will be living in Whitney Houston or Grab Bag, either of which nickname sounds vile.

-H.

PS-Yesterday was officially my last day of Company X redundancy time. As Jim would say: Company X, FOAD.

PPS-For your voting pleasure-let me know what you think. I like number 2 best, and number 3 are Mr. Y's that I would wear daily if I could get away with it. I'm not embarrassed to have it here-I wear bathing suits more revealing.

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Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:14 AM | Comments (35) | Add Comment
Post contains 602 words, total size 4 kb.

1 Firstly, the cricket pitch one is the palce to go no matter what. It'll be worth it when you get that first ball through the window. Secondly, posting pictures like that is only going to lead to trouble. For me. Now I can't leave my desk for another 5 minutes. That said, I vote for Number 4...none of the above. ;-)

Posted by: Simon at May 10, 2004 11:06 AM (GWTmv)

2 xlnt - you sang to an estate agent ... and then posted pants. I think this is one of my more odd Mondays so far. Oh and number 2 if I had to choose - THINK PINK!

Posted by: Rob at May 10, 2004 12:07 PM (kXZI6)

3 Image #2...those workouts are really working too LOL at The Bray Brunch singing..I can't believe the syndication didn't make it to England...yet!

Posted by: jimi at May 10, 2004 12:08 PM (lN8eP)

4 2. 3 never. 1 needs refurbishing, no? ;-). Simon does have a point... and I will now get out of the closet with the iBook under my arm, trying to look casual, eh eh eh. Miguel.

Posted by: msd at May 10, 2004 12:08 PM (XanJm)

5 #1 or #2, I'm not picky. #3 I'd take off you and keep off you. If, you know. We were doing that kind of thing. I like your description of the place in Whitney Houston. Maybe because I've only seen cricket on TV. I bet it would be cooler experienced live, just like baseball. And you could send down to the pub for drafts, how cool is that? Makes my suburban gulag here in Mini-soda seem even suckier -- although my weather is better right now, sorry!

Posted by: Layne at May 10, 2004 12:50 PM (OanYw)

6 As a lonely voice in the wilderness here, I vote for Number 1. I enjoyed the image of the Brady Bunch concert very much. As for ABBA, I immediately went, . . . Napoleon did surrender. Finally, having enjoyed the experience of watching cricket in the summer from a pub on a village green, and also perferring hardwood floors, I vote for the cricket place. Besides, I have a friend who says that the only reason people have wall to wall carpet is so that the can drag their naked butts across it. She killed wall to wall for me.

Posted by: Random Penseur at May 10, 2004 01:14 PM (LlPKh)

7 I 'm in complete agreement with Layne, although for just lounging around the house #3 probably has the easiest access... I really think I need more pictures to make a proper decision. And larger files. Perhaps some video? Damn. Now I can't go to work. If you're going to keep posting this sort of thing I'll have to stop looking at this blog first thing in the morning... ;-)

Posted by: Easy at May 10, 2004 01:15 PM (oQKRL)

8 teehee, what a cute butt you have! yeah, number 2 is the best. i love apartment hunting, something so exciting about it...all the potential. and sweden or no, i'd have trouble with pink carpets too!

Posted by: kat at May 10, 2004 01:15 PM (FhSIP)

9 Weird - judging by the description and nickname, I think I lived in Whitney Houston for about nine years when I was growing up. I even played cricket on that green. I went to school in Guildford for a few years too. I think that's the nicer place out of the two, but it all depends whether you prefer village or town life.

Posted by: Gareth at May 10, 2004 01:27 PM (NHA9E)

10 Even before I read the next line, I DID think of ABBA. People give me grief everytime I tell them how much I like ABBA, but they really had some great songs. I like small towns. What's a "paved garden"? That seems contradictory.

Posted by: Solomon at May 10, 2004 01:39 PM (t5Pi1)

11 Okay... Now I know what boy pants are... I also think several dictionary's have a new way to define "cute butt" =) I will have to go with the crowd on this one, #2 is a pretty clear winner, although I think #3 is probably not being done justice by the photo. Had I known playing stupid would would generate such great rewards I would have started a long time ago :-) Ahhh, what's a thong? hehe Whitney Houston sounds like the ticket, how can you go wrong with a pub stumbling distance away?

Posted by: Dane at May 10, 2004 01:41 PM (ncyv4)

12 Ok, my votes go for #2... I'm a sucker for a good-cut boy pant in colors. I'd probably go for Whitney Houston because of the amenities, but there is something to be said for a single family (detached) house.

Posted by: amber at May 10, 2004 02:11 PM (iJZeQ)

13 Number 1, with number 2 as a close second and number 3 bringing up the rear nicely. By the way, I live in Atlanta and Whitney Houston and Grab Bag are the same thing.

Posted by: Jim at May 10, 2004 03:41 PM (IOwam)

14 WHERE did you get #2.. I MUST have them!

Posted by: liz at May 10, 2004 04:19 PM (aHfpW)

15 Number two is cut perfectly for your body. Number three looks cuddly.

Posted by: Ember at May 10, 2004 04:34 PM (f0SBT)

16 Well, let's see...I think your butt is the best shown off with number one, meaning you can tell with number one that it's quite nice. But for some reason, I prefer number two... I also like number three, but I think that's just because I love boxers. The first two are certainly more flattering.

Posted by: the girl at May 10, 2004 04:40 PM (IglhY)

17 #1 and #2 ...

Posted by: pylorns at May 10, 2004 05:14 PM (PB+b7)

18 The second one is by far the cutest! They look great!

Posted by: Talia at May 10, 2004 05:29 PM (VIj9U)

19 You're going to cause me to blow a vein... I'll stump for number 1 AND Whitney Houston.

Posted by: zeno at May 10, 2004 05:34 PM (wdcH9)

20 I'm with you on #3 for comfort (wubbiness goes a long way in my book) but #2 is more flattering for the female derriere.

Posted by: Marie at May 10, 2004 05:48 PM (PQxWr)

21 Highly recommended: Victoria's Secret low-rise Brazilian lace tangas. Wowza. Otherwise, #2, darling. But they would peek out of my work chinos... And please, go for the carpetless house. Carpetless is always good. (Oh lord, I must go have sex now.)

Posted by: Kaetchen at May 10, 2004 05:59 PM (1nMRx)

22 My vote is for #2. Looks good!

Posted by: Dave T. at May 10, 2004 06:08 PM (hkvGr)

23 I vote #2.. Boxers get all caught up in the wrong places for me, goodness know how men wear them !.. The Brady Bunch!! I loooooved the brady bunch. I think Mr Y must be showing his age rather than a culture difference. I am British and a Brady Bunch follower! I think I know the place you mean for Whitney Houston, is it in Hampshire?

Posted by: sasoozie at May 10, 2004 07:07 PM (dYBfN)

24 Sasoozie-it is indeed in Hampshire. So for you and Gareth-switch the W and H around, add a hyphen, make it sound like an Ivy League name, and you have it! Liz-the knickers are from Marks and Spencers. Lots of peopel knock their clothes, but you gotta' love their non-granny style pants!

Posted by: Helen at May 10, 2004 07:28 PM (tgq3Y)

25 i vote guildford as it is near very near to me, um, but we are voting for knickers right?! abs x

Posted by: abs at May 10, 2004 07:32 PM (VqP0g)

26 I'm very much a variety person, so I'd say #2 most of the time, but #1 some of the time. #1 has that "school girl" quality and #2 is more of a "sexy, silky, feel good against the skin" type of thing which is always nice. Good luck on the home. And yes, I am appalled that they had not even HEARD of The Brady Bunch.

Posted by: Almost Lucid (Brad) at May 10, 2004 07:35 PM (NOiRr)

27 #1. Definately.

Posted by: ThatGuy at May 10, 2004 08:18 PM (xyC9p)

28 I'm so bummed, I picked out all of these fantastic things on the marks and spencer website, and they only deliver to the UK

Posted by: liz at May 10, 2004 09:43 PM (aHfpW)

29 IMHO it's a dead heat (and I do mean HEAT) between 1 and 2. It seems to me that wearing no 3 is a horrible waste as it fails to do justice to H. But no 1 really does give Kylie Minogue a run for her money ;-) Officer Jim, I'm carrying this over from the last thread just for you (then I'll stop carrying threads over out of respect to H.) I've found that using some of the less popular webmail services such as operamail and Netscape get less spam. Perhaps this because the spammers concentrate more on Hotmail because it gets more traffic - not sure.

Posted by: Steve P at May 11, 2004 03:03 AM (KvWin)

30 #1 and Whitney. Definitely.

Posted by: melanie at May 11, 2004 03:28 AM (zSCH6)

31 Oh, definately #1. *drools*

Posted by: Heather at May 11, 2004 05:23 AM (JaoWm)

32 i vote number two, they are cute. i also like to think that panties are next to the best thing on earth.

Posted by: tommy at May 11, 2004 05:27 AM (VacON)

33 Even though i'm partial to pink, i like #1. And my vote goes to the hardwood floors, soooo much nicer than carpet. Even pink carpet.

Posted by: Laura at May 11, 2004 05:53 AM (UPPF2)

34 What a well-shaped, cute, adorable, beautiful, sexy, lick... Ahem, where were we? *blush* Oh yeah, my vote goes to #2. And FWIW, I like Whitney Houston better than the Grab Bag.

Posted by: Gudy at May 11, 2004 12:30 PM (tSNy6)

35 Whitney Houston is definitely the place I thought it was then. It's a bit more than ten years since we moved away from there, but I remember there being far, far too many antique shops along the main road for a village of that size!

Posted by: Gareth at May 11, 2004 01:49 PM (NHA9E)

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My hotmail account has given up its will to live not because it's full, but because somehow I have been found by the spammers.

They found me.

After nearly a year of being on the lam, my virginal hotmail account has been targeted, encroached upon, and totally and thoroughly screwed. I know I can fix this with some filters, etc, but the truth is, I have gone right off the account, and here's why: porn.

That's right.

Now, in general I can find spam pretty funny. I don't generally open it, but I get a grin when I see, in the subject line, a macro gone horrible wrong:

"Subject: Onnee stopp johhnnny sshhop ffixxin' shop"

Right.

But I have been hit by the porn spammers, and while I am actually not interested in hot nubile teenage Russians, how to cure male pattern baldness, or in how to extend my member size, I at least have a sense of humor when it comes to the receiving of spam. It annoys me but doesn't send me over the edge. So, on a lark, I opened one of the emails.

And that's about the time that I wanted to take a bucket of bleach and a handful of matches to my account.

I opened one that looked like it was actually adressed to me. It said something like: "Re: Our discussion".

OK, sure. We can discuss.

I open it, and there is the most repulsive picture I have ever seen in my life-it's an older man, with Jesus-styled long brown hair and enough tattoos to make a whole gang of Hell's Angels envious. He was scrawny and hairless, which is not at all my type. But this is where it gets bad-he was naked. And shaved.

Like, completely shaved. We're talking razor, shaving gel, and hot water basin. And while I do like my man's hedges trimmed, I like some proof of testosterone.

It looked like two bald hamsters with a death grip on him, one on his crotch and one on his leg.

I have never...ever...been so turned off so fast in my life. At least I had new material now-in the past while trying to stave off the big O, I would picture a Roseanne Barr/Ally McBeal sandwich. The dichotomy there was more than enough to switch me right off, as I would sit there and try to figure out the logistics of the match.

But now I have this picture.

I can stave off any O for miles around now.

And I never want to use my Hotmail account again.

-H.

PS-the postman brought me a late gift-I just received this DVD, which means I am in for a cozy night with a great film. So-to my mysterious benefactor-a massive thank you for making my day!

PPS-if I am missing you on the links, please let me know-I know I am missing some and want to remedy it.

PPPS-I have a sudden a deep interest in something new: boy pants. They're naughty knickers that are like boy shorts, only with flimsy bits of lace and with your cheeks getting exposed. Holy crap I love these things. My favorite pair has a row of Victorian looking buttons leading up the sides. Man those things turn me on.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:35 AM | Comments (22) | Add Comment
Post contains 560 words, total size 3 kb.

1 Of course you realise that the contents of the above is going to bring al sorts of wonderful traffic your way? Lets pick out a few keywords: Shaved, Jesus, Porn, Hamsters ... you get the gist. I have to say that my daily Hotmail porn allowance reached the point where I dumped the account. I normally leave images turned off in email unless I know who the mesage is from. I had a nasty experience involving a message from a woman claiming to be called Sandi, who provided photos of her "unique" skills ... which I opened just as my boss walked past. Since then - IMAGES OFF!

Posted by: Rob at May 07, 2004 08:43 AM (kXZI6)

2 Oh and congrats on the Pants! Finally a woman willing to buck the trend of tying a knot in 3 bits of string and calling it underwear - 'spect

Posted by: Rob at May 07, 2004 08:44 AM (kXZI6)

3 It took a year for spam to find your hotmail account? You should set up your own company now and tell the world how you managed that.

Posted by: Simon at May 07, 2004 09:02 AM (UKqGy)

4 I've never really been able to figure out how or why, but I've had my hotmail account for over 8 years now and still only get around one spam e-mail a day (no really nasty ones either). All the spam in the world seems to arrive at my work account instead as our entire building seemed to end up on just about every spam mailing list in existance. They've managed to cut out the worst of it, but using the preview pane in outlook is still a bit of a lottery.

Posted by: Gareth at May 07, 2004 09:15 AM (NHA9E)

5 the only mail I get to my hotmail account is from hotmail staff!

Posted by: melanie at May 07, 2004 11:52 AM (jDC3U)

6 Ahhh...spam. I never cared for the way that hotmail does anything. I had an account there, but I stopped looking at it long ago. I have my ISP mailbox, and a couple of yahoo accounts and that's it. Yahoo does a pretty good job at filtering the spam. I generally try to avoid any Microsft products whenever possible. My problem is getting zombie emails sent back to me. I get returns from people all over the place for emails I never sent, most of them containing viruses. And I know that they're not coming from me because I check my machine often, I keep my Symantec up to date, and I have a Mac.

Posted by: Easy at May 07, 2004 01:17 PM (oQKRL)

7 "Shaved Jesus Porn Hamsters" would make an awesome name for a rock band. In that sandwhich, was Ally McBeal the figurative slice of pickle or something? No way she could have been the meat.

Posted by: Jim at May 07, 2004 01:26 PM (IOwam)

8 I had one offering to give me puffy lips so that all my friends would be jealous. All of this could easily go away. It amazes me what we will put up with and the amount of our time we allow other people to waste. It would be simple to stop. I just read that M$ is changing things so legitimate spammers(ones that are paying them) will be able to bypass the non-M$ filter software. So it is not easy when people don't want it to stop. Somebody must be buying.

Posted by: Roger at May 07, 2004 02:06 PM (8S2fE)

9 Helen, I LOVED that movie, hope you enjoy it as much!

Posted by: Amynah at May 07, 2004 02:26 PM (tqQaS)

10 Google mail (gmail) is my new best friend. Still in beta and I got to test since I use blogger. Everytime I open it I'm filled with great email lust. It's that good.

Posted by: Heather at May 07, 2004 03:40 PM (nbKSe)

11 Brazilian tangas are all the rage here. .... Check out Victoria's Secret US page....

Posted by: Courtney at May 07, 2004 03:57 PM (1Gy7B)

12 Yeah, G-Mail is quite ok so far. Takecare and Godbless.

Posted by: Vikkicar at May 07, 2004 05:13 PM (stCiL)

13 "To Me, You're Perfect..." [That's one of my favorite scenes from the movie, that and Hugh dancing. And Colin Firth...sigh.]

Posted by: Vikkicar at May 07, 2004 05:15 PM (stCiL)

14 I almost always wear low-rise boy shorts. With my hips, they fit better than anything else, and I can still feel sexy. Besides, they let your cheeks pop out a bit, which looks 'n' feels terrific. Yum. The boyfriend prefers bikinis, though. A body like mine was just not made for thongs. It looks like small children are wrestling unhappily under my jeans.

Posted by: Kaetchen at May 07, 2004 05:38 PM (1nMRx)

15 "small children are wrestling unhappily under my jeans"...I think I just wet my pants laughing. And I am not giving up the thongs yet. Oh no. I just decided that there is more than enough air time for my knicker selection.

Posted by: Helen at May 07, 2004 08:15 PM (n4Bvf)

16 It looked like two bald hamsters with a death grip on him, one on his crotch and one on his leg. I could have kept the pounds off today by reading that sentence BEFORE breakfast . . . .

Posted by: ilyka at May 07, 2004 08:59 PM (aAsCW)

17 I saw where you did not have me listed among those who have disclosed their locations. I live in the capital city of the great State of Confusion, Utter. All of us at Beyond the Black Hole live in Utter, Confusion.

Posted by: Mr Mouse at May 08, 2004 04:24 AM (G5PGV)

18 Jim: Shaved Jesus Porn Hamsters would make a great blog name.

Posted by: Bird Brain at May 08, 2004 04:25 AM (G5PGV)

19 Still ROTFLMAO. Your writing skills and talent for colourful description are great :-) Besides creating a new webmail account every month or so I ran accross a nifty method whereby you change any e-mail address that you post on a site to hex. This allows people's e-mail clients to read it but apparently most mail harvesting bots miss it. There are other methods such as using javascript to break up then reasemble your addy in the "to:" field but I haven't used them because I worry that people will surf with javascript turned off to avoid that other pet peeve: POP UPs! Grrr. P.S. you may have found a way to turn yourself off but all this talk of boy pants on you and thongs has, I reckon, turned on all of your poor humble male blog visitors! Sorry Mr Y :-/

Posted by: Steve P at May 08, 2004 08:24 AM (tlQEA)

20 I don't understand, what are boy pants? what is a thong? A picture is worth a thousand words. *snicker* =)

Posted by: Dane at May 08, 2004 02:55 PM (ncyv4)

21 You are fortunate...hopefully when you are 42, you can still wear boy shorts...my ass is way too big....I have, however, found a female version of boxer/briefs...they are not sexy, but they ARE the most comfortable underwear known to woman.....

Posted by: mitzi at May 09, 2004 01:43 AM (YvMm6)

22 I'm not getting a visual on the boy-pants. Can you link to a picture?

Posted by: Almost Lucid (Brad) at May 10, 2004 07:07 PM (oOm0R)

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Switching off the controversy train line now...

We've all had one. That benchmark, the one that set the standard. The one who we don't necessarily compare to our currents, but who always stands to the side, a presence to us, a memory that holds up over time and whose routines you still miss. One we don't get over.

Mine's name was Nick.

And he was gorgeous. Thick shocks of grey and silvering hair. Green eyes that would startle the hell out of me no matter how long I was around him. He would just turn his head, look at me, and WHAM! I was powerless with those eyes. Powerful limbs that would bulge and curve as he moved through the room.

Nick was sensitive and gentle. He was attentive and kind-he would come running when I opened the front door of my shitty university housing, so happy and excited to see me. When I would sneeze, he would come bolting from the other room to check on me, he had to be around me if I sneezed. He was demanding, always needing to be touched and held by me, but not holding a grudge if I wasn't up to it. And when we slept at night, I would sleep on my left-hand side, my arms in a large-O, and him snuggled safely between my arms, sliding his long body in the hollow between my breasts down my chest, my hands wrapped around the thick fur of his chest.

In case you hadn't guessed it, Nick was a cat.

A Russian Blue, to be exact.

But he wasn't just any cat-he was the one cat for me. I got him as a kitten with my first husband-we decided to call in on an ad for black and white kittens that we saw, and the owners informed us that actually, they had found a kitten by the side of the road the night before, and could we possibly take him? We drove to their house, and one look between Nick and I and we were sold.

That was my cat.

Nick survived the break-up with the Moron (they had never gotten on, and that was ok with me. Nick was a one-person cat, and I was a one-cat person). Nick was around when I met Kim, and Nick and I moved in with Kim. It was in a tiny house on Lower Greenville that Nick first began to be ill, suffering from asthma. He didn't live much longer after that-his asthma was simply not manageable in a way that would retain a good quality of life for him, and one night after a marathon asthma session the vet and I determined to have him put to sleep.

I remember sobbing my eyes out on the curb outside the emergency vets that night, while Kim sorted out the details. A young punky guy, looking one thousand degrees of awkward, came walking up with his sister's dog. He looked at me and asked me what was wrong. In that jerky, sobby whisper-y, and stuttering voice that only comes with severe crying jags, I explained my cat had died.

"Was that it?" the guy replied. "You can buy another cat, you know." Then he walked into the vet's.

Looking back, I wish I'd hit him.

Git.

You know-I still miss Nick. I still expect him to come running when I sneeze. And-much to the consternation of every man that came after Nick-I still have to sleep on my left-hand side, holding a pillow where once his warm and soft body was.

We all have one animal that makes such an impact on us, I think. A companion and partner that breaks the mold. Nick was mine. I have had many wonderful and loving pets-in fact, the two cats and my dog Ed that I had in Sweden are ones that I miss on a daily basis.

My mother had a cat that was originally my Stepfather's cat. He was named after a computer term, and he really only had enough love in his heart for my mother, and boy did he have that in spades. He lived a long life, growing to be something the size of a beaver and with a similar attitude to boot, and my mother still cries when she thinks of him.

My sister also had a cat that was originally my Stepfather's (he really didn't stand a chance with us, with regards to us stealing his pets). This cat would curl his arms around my sister's neck and want to be carried. With his dozy expression and trusting eyes, he would let my sister dress him up and leave him for hours on end in a baby carriage, waiting and hoping for her to return.

Mr. Y's was a childhood setter, by all accounts an astoundingly dumb animal but with enough personality to fill warehouses. My father's cherished benchmark was our Sheltie we had in our childhood, during the Happy Days years-a loyal, loving, family dog whose memory couldn't possibly ever be diminished.

I look back on them fondly, and look forward to having more comfort. Our flat is now filled with cut flowers and potted plants, adorning all the windows in the house with their fragrance. I can have these flowers where I couldn't before, since my two cats would view them as a personal salad bar. But I tell you-my cats arrive in a little over 4 months, and I will happily swap all the cut flowers I will ever own just to have them back.

Nick is my benchmark, but there's more than enough love in here for more.

What was yours?

-H.

PS-GREAT news! Luuka is alive, well, and about to see films and get trousered with Rob!

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 11:14 AM | Comments (26) | Add Comment
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1 mine was the first dog I ever had that was just mine (see I am not a cat person). I was 7 I got to pick her out and she was teh best dog a girl could ask for. My mother named her (Ching Ching- dont ask) but that dog was my baby. She put up with all the stupid stuff I did and I loved her even though she ate the first cassette I ever bought myself (footloose- no less!). It KILLED me when we had to put her to sleep (Pancreatitis) and I never really recovered any till I got my first adult dog- Monsterboy, otherwise known as Liam. He is with his breeder while I move every three months, but he is my baby. I guess there is no ONE for me but ones with different meanings.

Posted by: stinkerbell at May 06, 2004 11:22 AM (IHvBP)

2 mine is Mosi. she's a one person cat if ever there was one.

Posted by: melanie at May 06, 2004 12:06 PM (jDC3U)

3 Wow. Melanie just made me have pussy envy. And since mine is perfect, I've never had that before. Huh. Stinkerbell-I totally agree, there are different companions who have different meanings for us. Some of them just never leave the upper layer of the sub-conscious, I guess!

Posted by: Helen at May 06, 2004 12:10 PM (7oH3p)

4 ugh. i hope i'm pmsing, because that entry just got me all choked up. or maybe it's just thinking about how my "one(s)" are the kitties i have right now and thinking about losing them is heartbreaking. sadie and emma, my two darlings, have been with me through boyfriends, girlfriends, and more apartments than i can count and still snuggle me up every night. they are completely different. sadie a tiger cat with an athletic build, has the loudest monster purr i've ever heard. she's super snuggly and gives the most fierce head-pushes i've ever felt. i adore her. Emma is my baby. she's got a big belly and thumbs on her paws, big enough that she can pick up pieces of popcorn and eat them (which is painfully cute.) she's also a tiger cat, but with more orange in her fur and a long tail that curls in a question mark when she walks. every night Emma comes in and sleeps by my head in the same spot. she's a mommy's girl and loves me best of all, but she also loves Sadie and i have more pictures of them in insanely cute poses than i can count. i could go on, because the bf's two cats are also wonderful, especially Tabbers, who thinks he's a dog, but no need to write a book in your comments. :-)

Posted by: kat at May 06, 2004 12:30 PM (qEQy+)

5 My benchmark was a 165 pound Great Dane. He was the reason I stopped being scared of monsters. As my mother pointed out, did I really believe that there was a monster alive who could get past that dog? If I was in trouble and got yelled at and cried, I did it curled up with him. He comforted me and, I think, loved me. I certainly loved him. And when he decided it was time for me to get out of bed, we'd have a tug of war with the covers. I always lost. I could go on and on and on. I've had dogs since but he was the gold standard.

Posted by: Random Penseur at May 06, 2004 12:44 PM (LlPKh)

6 Our household has always had animals, both cats & dogs. Currently we're down to one dog. I don't know how people without dogs raise children. In the brief times we've been without a dog the amount of crumbs & spills to clean up has astonished us. We have mourned the passing of all of them, but one was particularly poignant. Here's the Readers Digest version: Our Golden Retriever died last summer. Her name was Daisy, and she was only 2 years old. She had eaten something that got blocked in her intestines, and the vet performed surgery on her to remove the blockage. When we brought her home she was very weak, but still game to try and play, something we discouraged, and that night she still struggled upstairs to sleep with us. After the first night, I blocked off the steps to keep her downstairs. That night I woke up around 3am when I felt the dog get in bed with us. My first thought was " how in the hell did she get past all that stuff?" but when I looked down to the end of the bed, there was nothing there. The next morning when I went downstairs, Daisy was lying dead at the front door. She had passed away in the night. I'm convinced that her spirit paid us one last visit before she departed. I really miss that stupid dog.

Posted by: Easy at May 06, 2004 01:26 PM (oQKRL)

7 Easy-my Grandfather had something similar. He had a farm, and his beloved collie Tammy was always present, and his constant companion. She loved only him, and I think his love to her was as absolute as well. One day she fell off the back of a flatbed trailer, in between the wheels and the platform, and was gravely injured. The vet tried to fix her up, but she was in bad shape. That night, they took turns watching over her. When my grandfather slept, my grandmother sat up in bed to check the bandages. Tammy, laying on the floor of the bedroom, then crawled up to my grandfather, licked his hand, laid down and died. Man. That, to me, is as pure as love gets.

Posted by: Helen at May 06, 2004 01:32 PM (9qA69)

8 I had a Pure White German Shepard named "King". He was found one day and given to me. He was already house trained and was a great pet. I still remember the weekend he passed on. It was the weekend the movie "Top Gun" came out. I came home from school that Friday to find he had been rushed to the vet and was found to have terminal cancer and was put to sleep to allow him to suffer further. I still think of him from time to time. I swore that I would never have another pet after that. A few years ago my sister got a Russian Blue named "Max". Slowly I warm up to him and now I think I may be ready for another pet.

Posted by: drew at May 06, 2004 01:44 PM (CBlhQ)

9 Would have to be my 'way-back' cat -- a calico persian (not a tortoiseshell) -- she was named Patches as a kitten, but quickly acquired a new name - from "kitten, cum cat, cum quat" -- when my mother was being 'cutesy' and playing with Latin -- Kumquat is what she answered to ever since. She used to worm her way under the covers until she was curled up in the curve of my arm or leg, and if I insisted on sleeping on my back, she would sleep on my chest -- if someone came in to put a hand on me to wake me, she would bt at them. but the most adorable thing she ever did was 'give five' -- anyone who walked up to her could just put their hand out, palm up, and she would velvet paw it, just like she were giving them five ... Everyone else said that she was psychotic, so I guess that she was a one-person cat too ...

Posted by: Kylan at May 06, 2004 01:48 PM (d18ri)

10 Mine was a black 110 pound Irish Setter/Labrador mutt named Storm. I got him when I was single, and he went everywhere with me. Without writing a novel, I really can't explain how much he trusted and loved me and how much I trusted and loved him. In the song "Mr. Bojangles", Mr. Bojangles tells how he and his dog traveled about together, and one day the dog up and died. Then it says of Mr. Bojangles, "after 20 years he still grieves." I miss Storm.

Posted by: Solomon at May 06, 2004 01:57 PM (t5Pi1)

11 Goobers. Plain and simple, it's my Goobs. He's a tabby cat, the first tabby to ever enter our family. (We've had a LOT of cats.) Some friends of my dad's had kittens and my brother and I got to pick one out each. I didn't pick Goobs, he picked me. He climbed up the leg of my jeans while I was holding another cat. Yeah, that's my boy. Goobers is now 18 years old. He started going downhill recently and we took him to the vet. Goobs now gets vitamins daily (and he *loves* them--weird) and it's like he's got a whole new life. He's one big ass motherfucker too. At his largest, he was a good 26 pounds. Looked like a Macy's Day Parade Float. He's still a big ole bastard, but he's mine. He lives with my parents, who swear he's deaf, but as soon as he hears my voice, he comes running. Awww. My Goobs!!

Posted by: Sarah at May 06, 2004 02:10 PM (Kpjuf)

12 I never had pets growing up. Mom wouldn't allow them. Now that I have my own house, my fiance and I just adopted a kitten and a dog. They have totally changed my life just in the short time we've had them. I will never be petless again!

Posted by: Rebecca at May 06, 2004 02:44 PM (ZHfdF)

13 Oddly enough, mine was also a cat--a Siamese/Persian mix, but without the white paws or "socks" of a Himalayan. Short hair and coloring of a Siamese, body style of a Persian. And he was named Nicholas. We called him Nicky, though. Go figure. I don't really know how to sum him up except to say that when he died of feline infectious peritonitis at 6-1/2 years of age, my mother, who still had a cat of her own, said she wished it had been her cat who'd died, not Nicky. And it wasn't something she said out of sympathy for me. She meant it. My mother loves cats even more devotedly than I do, and she loved her particular cat at the time immeasurably, but Nicky was just that awesome a cat. He was also the first cat to win over my don't-really-care-for-cats father. I always used to say he was part dog. He had more loyalty than the average cat, and was more "macho" than the average cat, but like in a good way. We had to put the deadbolt on every time we shut the back door because Nicky had figured out how to use his paws to open it. He could turn the handle and let himself out. Even now he's still the most intelligent animal I've ever owned. Benchmark. Good term for it.

Posted by: ilyka at May 06, 2004 03:59 PM (Hi8vN)

14 My Xena. The wounds are still not healed, it hasn't been long enough, but she was the most awesome dog in the world. *sigh*

Posted by: Heather at May 06, 2004 05:30 PM (wP202)

15 I somewhat envy you all, I do not have that benchmark. My father had dogs, my ex-wife had cats, my only attempt was to get my son a dog. But I never had a pet for myself. Now I am too old and set in my ways and do not feel the need nor desire to reach that status. So I felt a little void in my life for lack of such a benchmark, yet I am happy without it. Just a few thoughts from an old......

Posted by: greyheadedstranger at May 06, 2004 06:57 PM (cFRpq)

16 I have had three. My rat Lucy, my rat Monique and, this last one may come as no surprise, my adorable cat, Serenity. (The one you see in my header bar at the top of my site.) Some people do not understand the impact an animal can make on a human being. These three have worked their way not just into my heart, but into my soul. When Lucy and Monique died, I cried for days. Hardly anyone understood why I was so torn up over a rat. They just don't get it. When it's Serenity's turn....well...it's going to shatter me. And anyone who doesn't understand that or thinks, "You can just get another one".... they are the ones who lost the most.

Posted by: Serenity at May 06, 2004 09:24 PM (3g7Ch)

17 Forgot to add: I've had a LOT of pets and I have loved them all very much. Sometimes I feel guilty that the aforementioned pets and I had such a strong bond...it's hard to explain. I think you get it though Helen and it's a relief to be able to say it to someone who knows what I mean. Ciao

Posted by: Serenity at May 06, 2004 09:27 PM (3g7Ch)

18 I've had a lot of great pets- our two dogs, tomcats, hamsters, you name it. I couldn't pick one out a benchmark. My cat, Squeakers is the cat of even people who don't like cats- everybody loves him. My roommate who always talked of hating cats has bought him a whole basket of toys, several beds, catnip, cat treats, you name it! I took him to the vet last week, because his third eyelids have been out, and she was poking and squeezing on his body to check for problems, and he must've thought he was getting a massage, because he rolled over on his back, spread his fat, little belly out in the air and started purring! The vet was so suprised, she actually called other people in to see it, which of course, was just more attention for him. I used to say I was a dog person, myself, and I still miss having one, but I"ve been suprised how loveable cats can be.

Posted by: Allison at May 06, 2004 10:20 PM (YmC5g)

19 Jeff. He was with me when we lived in a backpack, with me when we lived in the truck, the two of us squished into the cab of an itty bitty pickup keeping eachother warm at thirty below, with me in foster care, and in my first house, and when I moved to Texas... I can't imagine losing him.

Posted by: ember at May 06, 2004 11:32 PM (f0SBT)

20 As much as I love my current dog - a golden retriever/irish setter cross named Izzy, and as fiercley as I loved my family's amazing Border Collie named Buddy, my animal benchmark was a Hereford cross steer (thats a cow, folks,) named OJ. It was short for Orange Julius, since he was a deep orange color. He was my first 4-H project. I picked him out of the pen of steer to go to sale, and started feeding him high powered feed three times a day. He quickly became my favorite friend. I called, he came. I rode him up and down the road above our ranch so he could get all muscular. I spent several hours each day washing and grooming - his coat was sleek and shiny and gorgeous. He followed me around the barnyard even without his halter on. I loved him - and then had to take him to the fair and sell him. That lesson is always a hard one to learn - about letting go of an animal - but it was very good for me as a ranch kid. I had lots of steers, also horses and dogs and cats, but my favorite thus far is still that stupid orange steer.

Posted by: Tami at May 06, 2004 11:46 PM (gj0ZL)

21 I think my benchmark was my Galen. Oddly, though, I have a much more mutually affectionate relationshop now with Piper than I ever had with Galen. It was rare that he would have a nice snuggle. I had to bribe him to hug me with pussycat treats. Although he wasn't afectionate like that though he liked to be close to us and would accompany us to the pool or he would sit on the side of the bath and watch the water when I had a bath. He died about a year and a half ago, now. Piper came along after that. She is very loyal to me. She sometimes settles for snuggles from the Mr if I'm not around, but as soon as she hears me, she jumps away from him like a bullet. She snuggles under the covers, or sits on my chest or curled up around my head on my pillow. She's my girl, and I'm definitely hers.

Posted by: jade at May 07, 2004 02:20 AM (Lulh1)

22 Over the years we have had a virtual zoo through our house, everything from lizards to monkeys, birds, fish, and of course cats and dogs. The dogs have always stuck out for me, all of them have been dobermans and all wonderful in their own way. The current dobie, Luc, is far and away the smartest most interactive dog we have ever had. He doesn't leave the yard unless he is told its ok, doesn't cross the street without being invited. People ask who trained him, and the honest answer is no one, he kinda figured out the rules real quick on his own, kinda freaky. They say you can tell if a dog is smart from weather or not they will look you in the eye, this dog will sit and stare at you for long minutes, and doesn't avert his gaze if you look back at him. He is 13 now, Dobie's usually don't live much past 10, so a very sad time is coming soon, this will be much more like loosing a family member than a pet.

Posted by: Dane at May 07, 2004 05:54 AM (ncyv4)

23 Clearly Misti the wonder dog is the one now. Mrs M has had a plethora of pets, usually two dogs at a time, including the first dog I really got along with, called Pomach (Hungarian for bottle brush -yes, seriously). She was cute and she used to decide my stomach was the perfect place for her to have an afternoon nap when I was having an afternoon nap. Otherwise we had a Siamese cat called Cinamon, who in hindsight was one darn independant little thing. My brother is now a mad cat lover, whereas I'm a dog person, so I guess you can tell who Cinamon liked more.

Posted by: Simon at May 07, 2004 06:40 AM (FUPxT)

24 Jade-that's funny-I wonder where you got the name? In Swedish, "galen" means crazy, which I can think of a few lovely pets I have had in which that name would apply. Tami-I totally understand. On my grandfather's farm, I once had a pet pig. This pig was born severely retarded, and he was kept seperate from the other pigs who wouldn't let him play their little pig games. He became my pig-I would race home from school to hang out with my pig, and he would wait for me and greet me excitedly. It was like Charlotte's Web sans creepy spider. Anyway, one day I came home, racing to see my pig, and he was gone. My grandfather had sold him for medical research. I was devestated. And people wonder why I am a vegetarian against animal testing...

Posted by: Helen at May 07, 2004 10:55 AM (n4Bvf)

25 It's difficult to pick out just one...they're all so very special. Gato, a Blue Persian, who I had to put to sleep just two days before my birthday. Gato taught me what undying love and absolute trust was about. Bogart the Cat got very sick, very fast, less than a week after a checkup at the vet. We used to catch flying bugs loose in the house together--I'd hold him up, and he'd swat at them. He also loved to play fetch and ride around draped 'round my neck--I have a great picture of me and him doing that in the living room. Celeste, who I adopted from a neighbor when his wife, no longer able to ignore her allergies, told him either the cat goes or she goes. She had the most gorgeous Celeste eyes (Celeste is a shade of blue-green; it's the color of a Bianchi bicycle), and half of her face was black and the other tabby. She was beautiful. Right now Witter, one of my rats, is living on borrowed time. He's siill active and happy, but he's got a tumor larger than a golf ball on his side (it's attached to his ribs and lung, and he's over two, so surgery was risky). I'm going to be an absolute wreck when he passes away...

Posted by: Victor at May 09, 2004 03:11 AM (lt4GO)

26 Reading the tales above almost makes me feel guilty in that my "one" is still very much alive. I discovered Sandy- adorable orange tabby that she is-starving under my house with 3 malnourished kittens. I worked from home for 3 weeks bottle feeding the kittens since Sandy's milk had dried up. She used to crawl upon me nervously while I held her children, but seemed satisfied that I was taking good care of them. WHen the kittens grew older, my mother kept them. Sandy was MY cat. She follows me around everywhere. If I'm on the other side of closed door, she yowls until I open it. As soon as I get home from work, she crawls up on my chest to give me a little kiss before settling down on my lap to sleep. And when the alarm goes off in the morning, she looks around to see if I'm stirring. If I am, she crawls up on my chest to say good morning. I've had 10+ cats and 6 dogs throughout my life so far and I've never had one become as attached to me as she has. I feel very fortunate.

Posted by: physics geek at May 11, 2004 03:00 AM (auFn9)

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Although I am happy with Life #6, it doesn't mean it's without its angst. I just have a harder time talking about it.

I am happier with my life now, I really am. The key part of that is Mr. Y, and the way I feel about him. I also love my Dream Job and I am so proud of myself for surviving. But sometimes I am down. I just feel it's maybe going to be determined to be a reflection on Mr. Y or my situation or Dream Job that I am down, as opposed to me simply being a little bit screwed up (which it is).

There are some mornings after a rough night or after arguing, that I stand on the train platform and look up at the thick girders above. It is invariably freezing outside and the sun simply doesn't want to meet up with me, and I stand there feeling more tired that I ever have. Just while standing there, I can actually feel my eyes sink back further into my head, the puffy aching spots beneath them looking purple and bruised with bad sleep, and I could close my eyes and sleep, I could close my eyes and scream, I could close my eyes and slide down onto my knees on the platform and just cry.

Who the fuck am I.

Sometimes the fights we have change me. Three weeks ago after an incredible row, I found myself greatly altered. I no longer wanted anything. I no longer had an opinion. I had lost my attitude, my sass, my sense of what I want. I just didn't want anything out of fear of getting in trouble for it. If I could just refrain from having opinions, refrain from telling you what I want, then we wouldn't have to fight. I could avoid bursts that come out of nowhere and deflate me like a plastic bag no longer floating along in the wind. It's passed now, things have been solved, I do want things and I do say them, but I find that I still quiver with apologies and cave when once I would have been indignant. I want to wrap my arms around you and tell you how much I love this life, making dinners, reading books, taking walks, occupying the same space, waking up next to you. But I am not sure if it will make a difference if I say it.

And I don't know if I am behaving like a normal person should, if my emotions and reactions are the acceptable human reactions. I don't know this since I don't understand emotions, I don't understand what the appropriate responses are, I don't even understand myself. Am I over-reacting or am I ok? Am I real or am I not even in the room with myself? Am I so crazy, or it is possible that I am just a little bit bruised? Mr. Y told one of my family members in a way that I found so tender and so protective, that I am really very small inside, and I could cry with how true he is, and how right that was.

And really'¦who the fuck am I?

The bitter and tangled wires that go between me and the other side of the Atlantic, cables and fibres that should keep me close to my family, have instead become too gummed up with the seaweed of egos and past hurts. Both sides are armed with their hurts, and both sides are not budging. Some of those cables are holding. A few of them have been cut completely. And even though there are times when I want to put my fist through a plate glass window out of frustration, even with help from Mr. Y and his urgance to fix things, perhaps the only cure is time.

I went to my meeting at Company X. There I was the customer's customer-I was the customer of Company X, and the customer of the Dream Job unit that had accompanied me. Company X people-in the office that I had been to a number of times-bring me coffee. They bring me water. They pitch me a sales pitch using slides I had once created or used myself in presentations when I called myself a Company X soldier. They tell me about a product and I made one correction to their pitch. We agree to work together and they are working on further ideas for us. I will meet them in two weeks again. I am the customer, but I go into this building and find my hands are shaking, and the hot desks and cubicles no longer look like gossip chambers but forgeign places to me, places that I am not welcome in except out of courtesy. My ID has been deleted from Company X's directory, and I no longer care.

Sometimes when I split out of myself, when I become the girl watching the other girl in the mirror, the split is worse than ever. I step out of myself and instead of watching myself in a TV show or movie, completely taken out of myself and out of my emotions, I find lately that sometimes I can no longer even see myself. It's like I have been presented with myself as a movie, but the real me is either so bored or so disgusted or so apathetic that I stop watching the movie and go in search of a good book to read.

Who the fuck am I'¦I want to cry at the mirror. Who the fuck am I?

I have this trampoline love, this love that when I am bouncing and going up is the most exhiliarating and joyous love that I have ever found. It is the light of my life, this insignificant time and space that I take up and call my own and want to decorate with paper mache garlands of how much one person means to me. It is higher than high, more thrilling and regenerative than anything I have ever known. But the way down when we argue is dark, the fights affect me more than the fights in any other relationship I have ever had affected me. And I find that I am sliding down and taking myself with me, finding the bounce on the way down to be so dark that all I can do is flex my toes against the taut fabric and wait and hope and yearn for the storm to pass and the exhiliaration to come back. All I need is the bounce.

The bounce is coming.

It's coming.

Wait for it.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 11:06 AM | Comments (23) | Add Comment
Post contains 1119 words, total size 6 kb.

1 I so know those feelings. scary. but we do bounce.

Posted by: melanie at May 05, 2004 11:26 AM (jDC3U)

2 xox.

Posted by: Dictator Meg at May 05, 2004 11:46 AM (8f531)

3 Helen you can't expect to go through all the things you've been through in the last two years, (not to mention all of the problems you had before that that were dragging along for the ride) without having issues now. And you need to confront those before you can get past them. (Which I know you are getting therapy for), so why did you think just because you were with Mr. Y now and in a new place and in a new job that you were going to be deliriously happy all the time? You still have those issues, and I'm not sure that being with Mr. Y is making any of those better, maybe before you moved in with him, you should have lived alone and gotten your own problems taken care of before you took on the problems of being two. If he loves you he'd have been thrilled that that was what you were doing to make it better for the both of you. I guess I'm just wondering if you are not trying to make him responsible for YOUR happiness, which is unfair, and unrealistic. You have to be happy with yourself before you have any real room for a real relationship, and if not, then you expect things from the other person that they cannot possibly provide. Self confidence, happiness, and security come from within, not without. Trust the feelings you are having, they are trying to tell you something.......

Posted by: Donna at May 05, 2004 12:25 PM (okCaK)

4 *sending along some tigger juice* xoxoxo

Posted by: kat at May 05, 2004 12:41 PM (FhSIP)

5 i'm all too familiar with the dark places of argument. no advice, though. i just know it's very unhealthy to be affected that way.

Posted by: hetty at May 05, 2004 12:47 PM (zyqdt)

6 You have a right to your feelings, no matter how anyone else may perceive them. And I have to agree with a previous comment that you simply canNOT go through all of the life-upheavals you have done recently and NOT have some backlash, some pensiveness, some melancholy. You're a survivor. You're stronger than you think you are.

Posted by: Emma at May 05, 2004 12:48 PM (kpNlZ)

7 I know just how you feel about walking into a place that was home, and feeling like an outsider. It's very hard.

Posted by: Easy at May 05, 2004 01:29 PM (oQKRL)

8 You know, you may be sleep deprived. My kids' pediatrician told my wife, shortly after the birth of our second child, that sleep deprivation presents the same symptoms as severe depression. I think that anyone who reads what you just wrote, and who has small kids who are up 2-3 times a night, has experienced what you have even without the extreme cultural dislocations and changes you have. Please, give yourself a break. Get some sleep and don't be so hard on yourself -- you made some huge changes and that took/takes a lot of courage. Backlash is inevitable. Don't try to answer any of these very good questions you are answering until you are a little more rested. Also, don't discount that depressive effect that English weather can have on a sunny soul like yourself. Hope this helps, Helen.

Posted by: Random Penseur at May 05, 2004 01:58 PM (LlPKh)

9 Yes, you're right. The bounce is coming. Knowing that is what keeps us all going.

Posted by: Amynah at May 05, 2004 02:14 PM (tqQaS)

10 Feliz Cinco de Mayo!! We are our actions. If one has a very gentle heart but never shows it and instead tortures little puppies, he's a puppy torturer. If I say I love my children madly but then beat them daily, am I a loving dad or a child abuser? The old saying "Actions speak louder than words" is so true. Who do your actions say you are? The good news is, if you don't like the way your actions portray (or betray) you, you can change them.

Posted by: Solomon at May 05, 2004 03:10 PM (t5Pi1)

11 I concur with and appreciate Donna's observation, Helen. What you are experiencing is *Life* -- which can be many things, but is *always* messy. Somewhere in our formative years, we get the erroneous idea that at some point out there, it'll all smooth out and be 'easy'. Wrong. Life is a series of problems to be solved. You resolve one, another presents itself. A successful (happy?) life is not about *avoiding* the problems -- it's about facing them (hopefully, one at a time), searching and finding your own internal answers, recognizing your strengths (and weaknesses), and keeping on keeping on. It doesn't happen in a flash. It doesn't pivot on a specific person in your life. It's not a straight line. It's messy! There is NO brass ring. It's *always* going to be dynamic, kinetic and challenging. It is not lost on some of us (old enough to be your mother) that most of the lives you've enumerated in your adult years are defined by the man you were in a relationship with at the time. It appears that there has never been a 'haitus' from the goal of connecting with a lover? I know how compelling that drive is -- but when you let that control your life, you will be taken down some bumpy and dangerous roads. And miss the opportunity to develop trust in your own internal wisdom. In the short space of the last 3 seasons -- less than a year -- you've lost a job, found a past lover, found a new job, left a husband, moved in with lover. Nowhere in that process did you create 'space' to coast for a while . . . attending to the work-in-progress that is Helen, taking a time out to regroup and repair and rebuild. It's like trying to change a tire while going 70 mph down a freeway. At some point, someone's gonna get hurt. Sooner or later, you're going to have to do the 'work' that needed to be done between those events. No one else can do it for you. It is not Mr Y's work to do. It isn't even your family's work to do. There is only *one* person you can trust to be there when everything is crashing down around your head -- yourself. That's who you need to learn to rely upon. That's who you need to nurture, care for, accept warts and all. The love of a thousand Mr Y's will not fix what's not right in your life. "Peace" isn't something given to you by another -- it's the fallout from your personal journey. Asking yourself the hard questions. Facing how YOU sabotage your own happiness. Choosing to try a different way of being. Accepting that you're not, and never will be, perfect. Understanding that you are in the driver's seat and being willing to put in the time and effort to find a road that makes your life meaningful and mostly happy, in spite of your imperfections and the inevitable disappointments you will encounter at the hands of others. It's hard to accept that 'happiness' is not our birthright after all -- that we're going to have to work hard for it -- that no one will hand it to us on a silver platter. We *all* struggle and rail against how unfair life is. But it is what it is. You are a gifted and bright woman. You have all the answers within you. The hard part now is being brave enough to ask the questions and entertain 'answers' that may put you outside your comfort zone. Sorry for the ramble. I know this journey. I have the advantage of years and reflection -- and I'm still learning. You will have that too, Helen. Just be sure you put your faith in the person who'll take you there -- yourself. You can do this.

Posted by: Annie at May 05, 2004 04:23 PM (GsjEB)

12 H, I know *exactly* what you mean. Being with le Coq is the brightest part of my sometimes utterly fucking dim life. But on the rare occasions when we're at odds...I lose myself. My guess is that we freak to such an extent because both of us are forming our new lives (#6 for you, uncounted as yet for me) around these loves. What happens if the lynchpin gets pulled? That being said, look at what we've survived! Look at how many times we've bounced!

Posted by: Kaetchen at May 05, 2004 04:34 PM (1nMRx)

13 "But the way down when we argue is dark, the fights affect me more than the fights in any other relationship I have ever had affected me." Its going to be that way because you want more than ever for this to work out, so everything will effect you more this time than before.

Posted by: pylorns at May 05, 2004 05:18 PM (FTYER)

14 "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. " I spend all my life waiting for the bounce. Even when I AM bouncing, I'm always waiting for the next one...

Posted by: Rebecca at May 05, 2004 05:35 PM (ZHfdF)

15 What I said yesterday!

Posted by: Annette at May 05, 2004 05:53 PM (/SQvi)

16 I know who you are. You're my friend. And I have a trampoline you can use any time you want.

Posted by: Jim at May 05, 2004 06:33 PM (IOwam)

17 You talking to any professionals about that splitting?

Posted by: Courtney at May 05, 2004 07:31 PM (1Gy7B)

18 I know this blog is about you Helen but WOW! What Annie said is........right. on. target. Annie...hell I needed to read that! I have actually cut and pasted that comment into a Word document for me to refer to when I get frustrated. One of the things I really agree with Annie about, Helen, because I've learned this by doing it, is to live on my own, be self sufficient, independent and I gained a LOT of strength that way. A LOT! I truly believe that every single female should live by herself for AT LEAST one year if not longer. You would be absolutely amazed at how much you learn about yourself when you have no one else to rely on for anything. You rely on yourself to get things done and you rely on yourself to make yourself happy. Relationships are fabulous and I would love to have one...but I wasn't ready for one before now. I had to learn how NOT to be dependent on someone else for how I felt at any given moment before I would allow myself to even think about getting involved with someone else. I know you read this on my site but I'm going to put it out there again...and don't beat yourself up if you don't "do it right" every single waking moment. You're HUMAN! "Never expect anything from anybody." Everything you need for your happiness is inside you Helen. I hope you have or will have a good therapist soon because you do need help finding it and learning how to use it. But, as was said, you are not going to find that from someone else....only yourself. Annie...again...that was amazing advice. Ciao

Posted by: Serenity at May 05, 2004 07:42 PM (3g7Ch)

19 I truly believe that every single female should live by herself for AT LEAST one year if not longer. You would be absolutely amazed at how much you learn about yourself when you have no one else to rely on for anything. You rely on yourself to get things done and you rely on yourself to make yourself happy. Hi! My real name is _______; my pseudonym is Ilyka; my primary job is medical transcription; and my secondary job is echoing Serenity loudly and often. I wanted to ask if you had thought of getting a place of your own. I don't know what the housing situation is like where you are, and I do imagine it's costlier than most cities, but amiga, it's worth considering. One of the friends I first made when I moved to Texas was a woman who, like me, was about two years status post The Horrible Awful Breakup With the Abusive Significant Other. Her situation was worse than mine--she'd married the creep. He ruined her credit. She had no bank account, no savings, and two wee children. Still, we each knew what it was like to literally have it beat into you that you're nothing, you're worthless, you fuck everything up, you don't deserve love, you don't deserve anything but the worst. And we both knew what it was like to try to get past that. But I remember in particular one conversation we had. We were talking about how we used to be, how we were convinced we could not live without these imbeciles, and I don't remember which of us asked it, but one of us said to the other, "Did you ever think, back then, that you could be so happy without him? Did you have any idea how much better it is? Even with the occasional lonely nights and frustration?" And the other of us said if there was one thing we wished we could do, it was go back in time and tell our frightened, cowering selves how MUCH better it was. How exponentially better it was. Yes, even when you weren't sure you could pay the rent on your own, even when you realized you were starting over, even when you indulged in self-pity about what a sorry case of "damaged goods" you were--the worst nights of being single were better than the best nights of being with a bastard. I know this isn't your case and you're not dealing with an abusive guy. But there is something tremendous you gain from having a place of your own that's difficult to describe to someone who's never experienced it. And I think that especially if your sense of identity and self is a bit amorphous, slippery, hard to define (which being abused certainly did to me for a time) . . . then it becomes that much more important that you get your own space. If nothing else it at least forms a geographic boundary. It gives you a starting point: "I am so-and-so of 10 Downing Street. That is my name on the lease. These walls are my borders. This is my space. We do things my way here." Anyway. Holler long and loud at me if I'm being a Joshua (btw, I owe you a you-were-right-and-I-was-wrong on that guy). It's done out of genuine affection, but loving motives don't excuse everything. If they did I'd have to start actually forgiving entire branches of my family, and we can't have that.

Posted by: ilyka at May 05, 2004 10:35 PM (t0ajr)

20 I think I should go gay for Annie, Serenity, and Ilyka. Seriously. But if you had the three of us in one room, we'd be playing "I'm Every Woman" round the clock. I have lived alone, actually, for long periods of time in my life (well, on reflection-one time was about a year, and another time was about 2 years. Is that long?) I know I can't count on anyone to MAKE me happy, that (I am embarrassed to admit, the stupid, sappy self-help books here are right)-it's up to me to be happy. And that, I am afraid, is a seriously bigger task. Someone commented here that I get self-destructive when things go well. They are right-but then I do that when things are going wrong, too. Mr. Y is a bit controlling, and we talked about it. It's a bit of a circus when you have a guy who's a bit controlling paired with a girl who's over-sensitive. It's got film starring Meryl Streep written all over it. Complete with the accents.

Posted by: Helen at May 05, 2004 11:03 PM (crPaD)

21 PS-Serenity, Annie, Donna, Anette, Ilyka, Gudy, and others whose comments have had secret lines of "don't be angry with me" running beneath them-don't be worried. In the comments, you have the right to say what you think-although I may or may not take heed Don't be angry.

Posted by: Helen at May 05, 2004 11:05 PM (crPaD)

22 But if you had the three of us in one room, we'd be playing "I'm Every Woman" round the clock. This is payback for the "Saving All My Love for You" thing, isn't it? Paybacks are such a bitch.

Posted by: ilyka at May 06, 2004 12:48 AM (t0ajr)

23 Yes, I agree.... Annie said it very well! And Helen, thank you, dear one, for your comment. My comments may seem brash (and usually they are)... you know, it's like "yawn" been there done that... and I have to tell you, I have a daughter who turned 39 a month ago... so, lots of water under the bridge. And I suppose that there's no way to impart knowledge in these situations... a person has to experience it for themselves, and make their own decisions. But, damn, it's so tempting to give advice, and it's so "sad" to see someone wrestle with these issues, when the answers seem obvious. : ) Hey, keep your chin up, and a smile on your face. Tell yourself that you are very special, because you are.

Posted by: Annette at May 06, 2004 02:59 AM (FGrN0)

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I got an email recently asking me a question that had actually been on my own mind for a while, so it was with nervous trepidation that I brought it up with Mr. Y-after all, the question pertained to him, and to be honest I didn't know the answer myself. But in bringing up the question, I was possibly bringing up a fight.

We were walking to the grocery store, to pick up some bits to make a big Indian meal with. The weather was shit-chilly, windy, dark grey clouds that would occasionally punch out the air with rain. I had given up on avoiding the bad weather and simply embraced it in my sweatpants and wild mop of curly hair (I do indeed regret cutting it). Mr. Y lit up a cigarette as we walked around the corner.

"So I got this email," I said hesitantly, observing the traffic lights with serious intensity.

"Yes?" he asked, looking over at me.

"Well, someone who reads my blog regularly asked if maybe you didn't like me having a blog. I mean, perhaps I have made it sound that way in my blog unintentionally."

"Do you think I don't like your writing?" he asked.

I had to think about that, moving my feet automatically over the wet pavement. Did he like my writing?

"Well, no." I said. "I don't think my writing is particularly something that you like. And you have said in the recent past that you don't like my blogging."

Which wasn't exactly true, but it's what I took out of the argument. He had phoned me a while ago, after reading my blog, very angry and unhappy. He worried that I would get ideas above my station due to the positive comments in the blog. That I would start to feel too important. That I would have difficulty seperating the truth from the blog, in that I would call myself Helen and call him Mr. Y (ironically, there isn't a single Y in his real name). The fight was quite vicious from both sides-perhaps he was defensive as blogging was something I loved doing and enjoyed and it was something that he didn't understand. I was defensive as blogging for me is a way to clean out my brain of its issues, and if he hates that, then perhaps he likes me mental.

I promised him that I in no way felt important or big-headed or stuck in a fantasy in which my real name is Helen.

I still feel that way.

We have had other fights about blogging. In that I haven't portrayed him in a positive light (one post that had been posted was withdrawn and deleted, in fact), as he felt I was comparing him to some of the men from my past, these men that portrayed the more Neanderthal side of the evolutionary chain. We have had disagreements about what I wrote versus what he interpreted it as. He has asked me that when I write about him to make sure I am very careful and read it properly, making sure that what I wrote is what I meant.

I do understand his perspective-it must be hard to have someone else writing about you. No one writes about my life but me, but I shudder to think how completely fucking crazy I would come across should someone do that. Basically, since he is an enormous part of my life, he comes out in enormous parts in my blog, and he doesn't always get to know that I will be writing about it. So I can understand his perspective.

When I write about him and I glow and vibrate for him, it's because I truly do. He's fantastic and I am mad about him. But he's not a god in my eyes, he makes mistakes just as I make mistakes (although I make more mistakes than he does). And it's sometimes hard for me to be so careful-half the time I wind up editing out whole parts, since I am not sure if he will be angry or not, or if I have worded something clumsily.

"I don't always agree with you," he said as we crossed the street, "but I do read some of what you write and think you're a good writer. And I know that you love to write."

"But you and I have fought about it before, how you don't want me to think I am so important or fantasizing or anything like that."

"I have moderated my view on that, Helen." he said. "I haven't seen any signs of that, so I think it's ok. I do worry that blogging will become an obsession, and I admit I don't understand blogging, but then I know that people have different things that make them happy."

He took my hand, and we did our shopping. Later, we brought up my blog template and Mr. Y is coming up with ideas on how to alter the design, which I am getting a little bit bored of but I am hopeless with. To me, this is a further sign that he is accepting of my little page in a world of pages.

He turned to me, and pointed to my tagline. "Shouldn't we change this to say that you are an Extraordinary girl living in ordinary circumstances?"

I worried that he thought I was feeling self-important again. "No, I'm really completely ordinary. It's my life that's extraordinary."

He looked at me, his face softening. "I think you're extraordinary."

I love you too, Mr. Y.

Don't be angry.

-H.

PS-Brass, have you shipped Luuka? Is she gone forever?

PPS-My hotmail account is giving up its will to live, so I have taken out an email address from my broadband provider. To reach me from now on, you can email me at everydaystranger (at) btconnect (dot) com.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:17 AM | Comments (23) | Add Comment
Post contains 988 words, total size 5 kb.

1 that's so nice I think we're all ordinary, but it's in knowing that someone else thinks we're extraordinary that we become so

Posted by: melanie at May 04, 2004 10:05 AM (jDC3U)

2 After reading that there isn't going to be any arguments any more. And now I know why you didn't get my last email.

Posted by: Simon at May 04, 2004 10:39 AM (FUPxT)

3 I think one of the most extraordinary gestures of love that one can give to another is to accept them completely, totally and wholly as they are. Addicted to blogging or whatever. BTW, as angry as I have been at your Mr. Y for perceived slights against you, I have to agree; you are an extraordinary woman and it makes me happy that he recognizes it. Love, Em

Posted by: Emma at May 04, 2004 12:20 PM (kpNlZ)

4 That was lovely. I actually told my wife last night that I had put up a blog. I wasn't sure how she would react -- but she was actually excited for me. I'm glad that Mr. Y is supporting you. I think it would be awfully hard if he didn't, considering how personal your blog is. By the way, I think your blog is beautiful.

Posted by: Random Penseur at May 04, 2004 12:27 PM (LlPKh)

5 My blog is private from nearly everyone in the 'real' world, and I plan to keep it that way. I cringe when I go back and read things I've written, but I'm trying to make it a rule never to change them -- other than some typos/spelling errors. Language is such a slippery thing. It's really not always a good tool for communicating. So I'm not sure if I got the correct meaning from this: "He worried that I would get ideas above my station due to the positive comments in the blog. That I would start to feel too important." Those two sentences made me stop short, and I had to re-read them several times before I could continue. Alarm bells began ringing in my head. Perhaps it's the american in me, but that sounds a little bit controlling, and pre-abusive. Or it may be that I'm way off base. Please think about those sentences very carefully.

Posted by: Easy at May 04, 2004 01:13 PM (oQKRL)

6 Posted this with yesterday entry by accident: I understand where you are coming from. It is the attempt to mesh together two areas of your life that are important to you. On what hand you have your journal and the freedom it provides you and on the other hand you have the love of the man you are with and a very very happy life together. When they both can co-exist together then you feel complete. But if you cant have both and choice one over the other you may end up with resentment towards the one you did pick. Quick Question: Does Mr. Y like to write? Prehaps he can from time to time "guest post" on your blog. That way he can be a part of it as well.

Posted by: Drew at May 04, 2004 01:58 PM (CBlhQ)

7 Drew, I think Mr. Y would rather have his fingernails removed forcibly before he would want to write. That said, he has done a few times, and I think he writes very well.

Posted by: Helen at May 04, 2004 02:02 PM (5TSkU)

8 Mr Y just passed my test of a mate. I am delighted that although he doesn't understand blogging, but does know that it is an important part of your life. An Helen, you are extraordinary!

Posted by: Marie at May 04, 2004 02:10 PM (PQxWr)

9 That's great, Helen. It can't be easy to have half of your relationship exposed. Mr.Y is a trooper. By the way, you can use Mumail if you'd like. Maybe set up a Helen@everydaystranger.mu.nu or something like that. Buzz me if you're interested.

Posted by: Jim at May 04, 2004 02:27 PM (IOwam)

10 I think that's wonderful. He sounds as though he really is very much in love with who you are, not as though he's loving what his impression of you is. You are extraordinary, and if you're anything like me your blog is part of you now. I'm glad he's able to accept the whole you - blog and all. For what it's worth, when you wrote: "He worried that I would get ideas above my station due to the positive comments in the blog. That I would start to feel too important." I interpreted that kind of like a warning for an actor who's played a particular role (with a script) for so long that they begin to believe they are capable of living that role without the script. Sort of like telling embellished stories so well and so often that you begin to believe they are true. It's good to be reassured and helped to see your value, it's not good to get a distorted view of your own real proportion. I think you write as though you have a very good head on your shoulders and know full well how to keep yourself out of the pit of despair. If that's just a front for a loony chick with delusions of grandeur then you're doing very very well. Very brave of you to discuss it with him, though. Really - what if he had said he hated it and wasn't sure it wouldn't come down to "him or it"?

Posted by: Lisa at May 04, 2004 02:47 PM (uxfbz)

11 KW knows my URL and he respects the fact that I don't want him to read it and he doesn't. By the same token, I respect the fact that he would rather I not talk about him in my blog. Yes, he's terribly important to me, but just because I feel comfortable sharing my life, doesn't mean I'm entitled to take the same liberties with his. I know Mr. Y is important to you, but if this online journal is damaging to your relationship, perhaps it's better to take your concerns with him to pen and paper and keep it hidden away from everyone, including him?

Posted by: emily at May 04, 2004 03:22 PM (GpAPK)

12 Emily and Lisa-I don't think it's damaging my relationship, I just think maybe it's one of those teething issues-when you have something new, you go through teething pains. This may be one of them. He found my via this blog, and only a few others know of it in my real life (and I want to keep it that way). If it came down to him or the blog? I would stop writing about him here. It sucks to say that I would have to do it, and I would not be at all happy about it since this is my space and my thoughts-and since he is a major part of my life he's a major part of my thoughts-but it would have to be done. He's made it clear he won't ask me to do that. Let's hope it never comes to that-I can just imagine the row that one would be...

Posted by: Helen at May 04, 2004 03:51 PM (5TSkU)

13 Wasn't this blog how you reconnected? It will always take your disgression of when and what to write about for sure. A part of blogging. There is also that strong possiblity of more people you know discovering it; quite a few blogs point the way:-) Mr Y. Just wait till she write her first book. You'll be proud and she will still be Helen and the person you know.

Posted by: Roger at May 04, 2004 04:06 PM (8S2fE)

14 One has to follow their own heart... you can only make so many exceptions for the "love of your life" until one day you realize that you are not yourself anymore, and that you have become one very unhappy person.

Posted by: Annette at May 04, 2004 04:14 PM (q8qPq)

15 Amen Annette -- when you make so many concessions for them, that you aren't yourself anymore -- that is when it is too much -- and then you end up hurting the next one that you are with, because you are either 'taking back' everything of your own, and not paying *any* attention to them, or you are being mega-trans-ultra-super-hyper critical of everything they do so that you aren't conceding anything .. Still, any relationship is about compromise, it's when you both make them that you know the relationship is working -- or, "just as holes dictate their patches, complementary handicaps make perfect matches" Tioraidh! Kylan

Posted by: Kylan at May 04, 2004 04:30 PM (d18ri)

16 Ohhhhhhh I don't know where to start. I haven't even finished reading it all and I'm seething. Um, maybe I should finish reading it first. Yeah, I'll do that. But one note: He was certainly in favor of you having a blog when it provided him a means to renew contact with you, didn't he?

Posted by: ilyka at May 04, 2004 04:39 PM (abwLl)

17 my bf knows about my blog and reads it on occasion. he also thinks blogging is slightly bonkers, but he knows that i thorougly enjoy it, so he leaves it at that. we all have our quirks and we all have our ways of expressing...those we love may not completely understand, but they'll be supportive. that's what matters. it is hard to have a space like this when you feel you have to edit, but just keep being you. i think as long as you and mr. y are communicating openly everything will be fine. xoxoxo

Posted by: kat at May 04, 2004 05:25 PM (qEQy+)

18 I can see how it could be difficult for Mr Y with you often writing about personal aspects of your relationship with him on here and him possibly feeling that he's got no "right of reply" or opportunity to present his version of events if you aren't entirely complementary. However, from what you've told us (or rather haven't) he doesn't seem to have a problem with you writing about the good things, so maybe he's got to learn to cope with the bad appearing every once in a while. The situation's complicated by the fact that although there's a degree of anonymity to all of this, Mr Y found you through your blog and maybe he has concerns that other people in your lives may come across the site in a similar way and read things he'd rather they didn't. I'm just randomly hypothesising there. Bottom line, it sounds like he knows how important blogging here is to you and is being as supportive as he can be right now over something he doesn't really get. Here's hoping it never becomes an issue between the pair of you.

Posted by: Gareth at May 04, 2004 06:29 PM (NHA9E)

19 Helen....sigh. I'm just not going to be one of your readers who came away from this post with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Too many things in this I read that got my hackles up and by the time I was done, I was TICKED! The entire point of your blog, from my understanding, was to release thoughts from your head, to unclutter your mind, to be a form of therapy for you. How the HELL can you do that if you are constantly editing yourself and worrying about what someone is going to think of it? Boo-hoo, Mr Y isn't always portrayed in a positive light. He can either learn something from that...understand how things affect you or he can quit fricken reading your site altogether if he can't handle the fact that he is not perfect and that you realize that. OH! OY VEY! That's another thing..you wrote: "But he's not a god in my eyes, he makes mistakes just as I make mistakes (although I make more mistakes than he does)." That bit inside the paranthesis makes me want to tear the fricken walls down with my bare hands. You started out so well, keeping yourself on an equal plane, where a relationship SHOULD BE...and then you ended it by giving him all the power AGAIN! Then there was this: "He worried that I would get ideas above my station due to the positive comments in the blog. That I would start to feel too important." OH. MY. G-D! Above your station? Are we back in the 17 and 1800s where the good little wifey keeps her head down, never talks back and knows where "her station" is? Someone else earlier in comments pointed this out and stated it was the beginnings of a controlled and possibly abusive relationship. Helen...hate me forever if you must but I have to call it as I see it: This man is a control freak....and you LET him control you. As time goes on, it's a little more, a little more, a little more. If you could take a step back and then re-read this post through the eyes of someone else...pretend you are reading a very dear friend's writing..this writing..maybe your eyes will see what I see...and apparently, some others are seeing. No matter what you may think of me now for being harsh...I just give a damn about you. The love of your life doesn't want you to feel too important......really think about that statement. Ciao

Posted by: Serenity at May 04, 2004 07:16 PM (3g7Ch)

20 Helen - While I'm thrilled for your happiness with Life #6 so far, the tone of your blog HAS changed. You're blogging about more innocuous topics, being cautious, whether consciously or not. Perhaps it's just that you are happier than you have been in a long time, so there aren't as many angst-driven topics to speculate about anymore. If so, I'm happy for you, but I do miss the poetic, insightful tone of some of your previous posts. But no matter what the topic, you are a gifted writer! Don't give it up!!

Posted by: Camino at May 05, 2004 02:29 AM (FNZk7)

21 Okay, I read it all the way through this time, and I guess I'm like, what Serenity said. Then again, what do I know about dom/sub relationships? For all I know this is just standard operating procedure. Buuuuuuuut personally I don't much like it. And it does look to the casual observer like you've gone from jealous controlling temper-tantrumiffic Swedish freak to insecure controlling subtly-sabotaging English freak.

Posted by: ilyka at May 05, 2004 04:27 AM (abwLl)

22 As you know, I'm going through somewhat of the same situation as you at the moment with J finding my blog. I never, ever intended to share it with him, because it's mine and I don't want to have to censor myself, as I'll have to if I don't change to a new site. J is not Mr. Y, by any means, and he'll never understand why I feel the need to do it. Our relationship is very different from yours. It's just a big waste of time to him, and he thinks I'm strange. I do agree, I didn't much like that "above your station" bit, and I agree that in Mr. Y's case, he wouldn't have found you if it weren't for your blog, but really, we do have a responsibility, if we really care about someone, to be mindful of their feelings and not do something we know hurts them, if we want to have any kind of healthy relationship. Not that I have or know much about a healthy relationship, personally. All in all, I think that as long as Mr. Y knows how much you love blogging, even if he doesn't understand it, and he sees how much of a wonderful writer you are, and how your readers love you..to the point of being angry at him when he hurts you, you should continue to write as you feel, and try to find a balance between being true to you, and not trampling all over his feelings and his privacy too much. And Mr. Y just needs to understand, as does J, that if he reads something in your blog he doesn't like, it's pretty much too bad because it's your blog and your feelings and thoughts written here, and if he's concerned about how he looks to people, he should think about how he behaves so you won't have any reason to say anything but glowing raves about him.

Posted by: JaxVenus at May 05, 2004 05:20 AM (j0X+N)

23 I have to agree with Serenity et al. here. D/s relationships are perfectly OK, and I guess that what you have with Mr. Y has at least some aspects of D/s, but there's just something about what you're writing here that doesn't sound good at all. Take care.

Posted by: Gudy at May 05, 2004 12:14 PM (DxH+g)

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