Wednesday, 27 January 2010

Ten years ago this year I deserted a marriage. Literally stole away secretly and urgently in a car containing a few precious belongings and my heart thumping through my chest. I never looked back and will never forget the feeling of immediate and unbelievable relief. That I no longer had to watch my back, walk on tip toes around him and could actually breathe easily without fear.

I do know it takes two to tango, every relationship has its dynamics, and I refused to indulge in hate or bitterness. It seemed pointless. Besides, I’m such a girlie swot, that instead I just wanted to take away a bounty of knowledge – of myself and of human nature. I don’t believe in regret.

Two years later we met outside the court house to file our divorce papers and sealed it with a swift beer. Goodbye bad times and goodbye you.

Another five years on and we met again, at my request, just before I moved to Nelson. I guess I wanted to know if I harboured any hidden feelings from our experiences, so that I could put them to bed before starting out on my next colourful adventure. My motivations were purely selfish.

I returned from that meeting very weirded out that it was possible to sit across from someone that I used to know so intimately – with everything about that person being so familiar, from mannerisms, to outlook, to the way he formed his speech – and yet feel absolutely no emotion, good nor bad. Zilch. It was extremely odd. No matter, another chapter closed.

Two years ago I received an email, telling me he was going to be in town and did I want to meet up. I thought about it for sometime, but in the end chose not to respond at all. While I have often retained genuine close friendships and a depth of caring for other significant exes, I have just never felt inclined to do so with him. Where in the past I might have agreed to meet out of some strange obligation of politeness, I also decided this was ok and I was perfectly happy with my decision.

This week I received a text, again telling me that he was going to be in town. My immediate reaction was to ignore it once more. But for some reason I didn’t. Perhaps plain and simple curiosity, I’m not sure.

Ofcourse there were still all those old familiar things about him that will never change and I’m sure it’s the same for him with me. However, the most interesting thing he told me was that when he was last here two years ago, he got set upon and beaten up so badly by two youths on the cathedral steps that he spent over a week in Nelson hospital, lost an eye and has irreparable damage to his hands.

I’m still considering whether I should be ashamed of myself that, even after all these years, my immediate thought was – yep, gotta love karma.

Love is...

Tuesday, 26 January 2010

I'm reading this book set in Scotland 1600 AD or thereabouts. In it husband says to wife:
“I risked my life for ye, committing theft, arson, assault and murder into the bargain. In return for which ye call me names, insult my manhood, kick me in the bollocks and claw my face. Then I beat you half to death and tell ye all the most humiliating things have ever happened to me - AND THEN YOU TELL ME YOU LOVE ME.”
He just didn’t get it did he. And not much has changed in 400 years.


Sunday, 24 January 2010

Licking furtively at my fingers and toes like Johnny Friggin Appleseed; I feel change trying to court me. I don’t know what it wants yet. I’m not even sure that I wouldn’t rather it just let me be. Damn restless personality.

Frustration? Boredom? Fear? Isn’t contentment supposed to have kicked in by now?

Fat arses and rum

Monday, 11 January 2010

While gyms enjoy an influx of swelling fat arses this time of year, I've been doing other things with mine. Enjoyable things, like taking my bottom to Australia, out dancing, eating & drinking copious amounts, walking some too, etc etc etc. Yes, my bottom and I have been having a most marvellous time so far this year :)

It's also official. 2010 is the year of Havana Club and going barefoot, according to me. May you all have ridiculous amounts of both. In addition, I wish you insane amounts of fun, laughter and that exciting twinkly feeling you get on the inside when good shit happens.

So bottoms up for the "tinnies". Bring it. Another good decade.