15/11/2010

Things I’m  learning about myself from this  ‘thing’ with BB:

  • I think about sex too much.
  • But I’m congenitally incapable of doing casual sex very well.
  • Because I’m too emotional a person. I need to feel I belong with a man. I need to be acknowledged on an emotional level. I also care too much. I wake up in the morning and wonder if he had a good night. I sit at home having lunch and wonder if he’s having lunch with his friends, alone? What is he having? Is he enjoying it? I listen to travel updates and ask myself whether he’s stuck in traffic somewhere bored out of his brain. When he gets home, is he happy to see his baby? Does he spend his weekends making funny faces and making him laugh?
  • Also because my PCOS drives me mad. Immediately after my period, unless I really trust someone  it can be quite an effort for me to have sex. Too many true and false PMS-esque symptoms during that time. And I just can’t sit someone down – someone who is essentially still not close to me and start explaining all my reproductive woes. I’d rather pass the sex itself at that time. So I worry a lot instead, mostly about him, not me. Mostly about how I seem not to be in the mood.
  • And what does that say about me? I’m pathetic. End of story. But of course I want  a very healthy relationship.  That I’m sure of. I may suffer from a terrible and great deal of low self-esteem and other great crazy but that’s one thing I’m sure of. That’s why I said no to Fish. I’m not at my best emotionally and if I said yes I would lose him – something I don’t want to do because I want him in my life. If he still wants me when I’m ‘healed’ then I think I will say yes. At the moment it’s ok for any other woman to have him, although there isn’t any yet.
  • I like and prefer intelligent men. I mean,  BB isn’t dim, but God knows we don’t have any mentally stimulating conversations. Of course I’m aware life is about compromise so I can compromise if a man brought something else to the table, like kindness, unconditional love, streetwiseness and money, yes money – don’t get me wrong but I’m a woman, I don’t just lay with anyone, there are consequences to think of, it’s nature. And I won’t be PC about it, in fact all women shouldn’t be PC about it. All women who pretend to be PC about money in regards to relationships want to have the good life to themselves and leave you out to dry. True story. So where was I? Yes, intelligence. An intelligent man is powerful to me. A powerful man turns me on. I have respect for a powerful man and in order for me to love a man I have to respect him. Money = Power too, that’s why I can compromise. A powerful man also makes me feel protected and taken care of. I feel safe in the company of a powerful man. I feel my future children will be safe with a powerful father. A powerful man doesn’t worry about his position in society so he doesn’t have time to have ‘issues’, instead he has the time to love me.
  • I need to be more kind to myself.
  • Unmasking myself and allowing myself to be vulnerable is actually good for me. Allowing people to see the real me and being honest about my situation is good for my personal growth. BB is the only person in a long time who has actually seen how bad my financial situation is. Most of the times I feel ashamed by what is essentially a situation that is not my fault, but what can I do? He still insists on seeing me, so that’s what he’ll see.
  • I am beautiful – I know this but I needed a reminder after a very long time. From the first day that he met me, BB told me that I was beautiful every single time we met. Every single time. He’s never stopped. No faffing around with words, he just says these exact words every single time: You are beautiful.
  • I like kissing men’s noses.
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03/11/2010

It’s 3:40 pm, I turn over in my duvet-heavy bed and sluggishly glance towards the door of my room. BB is standing there. Am I dreaming? I ask myself and try to sit up. No I’m not. Oh dear God. Panic. That is BB standing at the door.

Then it hits me. What???? No, no, no, no!  This man did not just ambush me in my place? I did not remember any talk of  meeting him today. He’s appeared unannounced, to find me at my most undignified. A stinking room, dirty bowl and spoon with dried weetabix bits on them,  on the bed beside my head, a packet of sainsbury’s basics sultanas next to it,  bits of used tissue and dirty clothes all over the floor and my menses stained knickers hanging at the corner of my bed. I’m ashamed. I want to die. Oh the humiliation! It’s unbearable. I want to get up but I’m incapacitated with self loathing.

“Hello, I wasn’t expecting you, how did you get in?”

“The woman opened the  door for me”

“Oh, eerrm…I was reading then I fell asleep”

“I can see that, is it warm in there? I’ll join you”

No, please no. You wouldn’t like the smell in here. At this point I’m thinking…hide the dirty stuff on display…hide that bit of the second duvet that’s worn out…do something…save yourself from this shame. But I can’t. He’s already removed his clothes and has jumped next to me. Feelings of rage start to creep up within me. He has no right! He can’t just turn up. He has no right to turn up like this and make me feel less of a human being due to the conditions I live in. In times like these I want to be alone. I don’t want anyone to see the crazy state I’m in. When I’m alone, I don’t have to pretend. I can wallow in my depression and continue fighting a loosing battle with my insomnia whilst indulging and entertaining my glorious disturbed sleep patterns. Then he comes in like this. This is not a part of me I want him to see. Then I calm down – it’s not my fault after all, I didn’t ask him to turn up impromptu.

Up until now he had only been to my place once – after I had done a massive clear out and cleaned the place up and now. And of course after apologising profusely for the state of it – most of which wasn’t my poor self’s fault – the stained and discoloured roof for starters. Ugh. On that occasion it went well though. He didn’t seem to mind and even helped me take out some rubbish that The Witch thought convenient to tell me off about in front of him. But this was different.

One hour after he got naked, I put my hand over his torso  and a few minutes later I hear:

“We should stop doing this”

“What?”

“Having sex”

Oh dear me. This is it.

“I don’t spend quality time with you”

So why the hell did you fucking come over today? How about you should have told me this via earlier and not turned up. Or how about you should have turned up and NOT got naked, but just you know…tell me this and then go?

I remain silent. I play with his hair a little, he tells me to stop then gets up to dress. He notices the sultanas and makes a comment about how good sultanas are. All I can think of is that they are just sainsbury’s basics. Cheap. I’m a total and massive contrast to his comfortable middle class existence. No wonder he wants out? He also mentions something about how warm my bed is. Do I like to keep warm he asks? I pull a duvet over me as he says:

“We should stop because it’s not fair to you. I don’t make enough time for you”

He leans over to kiss me. Tears start forming. God please no, I can’t start crying now. Not for this man. Please.

“But you are funny, you don’t care”

I do. I fucking care. I fucking care so much. I fucking care so much that I’ve had to suppress my tears. He said I didn’t care because two weeks ago, while apologising for yet another flying visit I told him it doesn’t matter when he sees me. It was his life I said and I will not force him to see him. It’s not like I was married to him or was his girlfriend, I continued, matter of factly. I didn’t mean that. I was hurting and angry…and needy so I just said this to appear ‘cool with it’. He remembered it.

“It’s not that I don’t care”, I smiled faintly and swallowed a huge lump in my throat. He stood up to put on his jumper and said that it wasn’t fair that he couldn’t see me enough but would make sure to find sometime for us to do something ‘more’. So what is it? Is that it or do I have to wait and see if he has found the time to do ‘more’ things together?

He blew me a kiss and left. I lay in bed  thinking of that scene in Bille August’s The House of the Spirits, where Esteban visits a prostitute and asks her  to be tender with him and pretend to care for him, just for that day. Substitute  the prostitute with BB.

I wish I’d never met him.

**An hour letter I check my emails and see one from him, sent at 2:32 pm, without a body, titled ‘Hello are yyou home at 3.30pm?’ I wasn’t online so I couldn’t reply, but why would he just turn up? If you don’t get a reply you wait for one!

21/10/2010

For two weeks I’ve heard only £5 with me. I bought milk on Monday and spent £2 on a Starbucks coffee while out with BB because he said to share, and I don’t want to look like a leech. But he knows I don’t have any money! So why would he ask that?

Yesterday evening I made fried rice, had it with baked beans and fish cakes. Random combination I know, but I’m eating everything that is in the house just to fill my body so that I don’t starve. Speaking of starving, I’ve had only one meal a day, for two weeks now. I don’t count breakfast because it’s useless. Sometimes it’s just two pieces of toast or a small slice of cheap cake. Oh, I spiced the rice with chillies and rosemary, just to make it taste…nicer?

I now have £0.50 until next week when I get £150 which I’ll have to pay £120 towards my weekly rent, after that I’m supposed to economise the £30 for about three weeks.

Reasons for all that?  I don’t have a job..again! And my mother’s left for work abroad, which was supposed to bring a glimmer of hope in our lives but has turned into yet another source of trouble. There is a lot of paperwork to sort out before she starts getting paid – I was relying on this to keep me going for the time being. I feel like our family is going nowhere, every decision we make no matter how hopeful turns out to be a deadend or a massive struggle before we see any  payback. And I blame my dad! Yes my dad. I might sound like I’m putting too much on him, but there is a huge story I haven’t told on this blog about how he is the cause all of this to us. I’ll tell when all’s well. When this is just a nightmare of the past. But, when will that be? Next year? The year after? Probably never because things never seem to be OK with me.

I’m very scared now especially with my mum away. I have no one and morbid as this may sound but I worry about dying. Alone. Here in this pitiful state. Since she left I’ve heard numerous dizzy spells and felt so weak, I had to grab onto something when walking up and down the stairs of the new shared flat that I moved in. The flat where everyone seems to be cooking and consuming sumptuous dishes! Where I feel harassed. I get into the kitchen and it’s always a case of ‘don’t put that there, you must leave this here’…argh. I don’t care where the bloody vacuum cleaner should be. Honestly.

With BB now I feel used, exploited, whatever other synonyms you know, use them here. I feel like I’m getting nothing out of it. He goes and comes when he pleases. But I’m needy. I literally have no one to talk to, and the little company and physical contact he gives me makes me feel human. Of course he doesn’t know how needy I am because I don’t show it. But, I’m falling apart.

I know I’ve heard very bad times in the past, but these so far are my darkest. I want so bad to get out of here, I’d give anything.

28/05/2010

I’ll tell you what I want to do now:

Have tons of sex.

Alright, maybe not tons of sex but I want a handsome boy by my side. We could talk about silly stuff and laugh or go out for a meal and later get drunk and come back home in the morning and stay in bed the whole day tomorrow.

Or we could watch a  movie, have dinner and an early night then wake up early tomorrow to go for a walk and a picnic, and then spend the evening blasting dance music as we get ready to go out.

What I’m saying really is that I feel lonely. Very lonely and I’m fed up of hearing people talking about what they did with their boyfriends. Or seeing couples walking hand in hand in this lovely weather or kissing at the beach like the two I saw yesterday who couldn’t get their hands off each other. I was at the beach in the evening, sleeping and pretending to sunbathe. Alone on my towel. Oh, I pretended to read too. Yeah, I was at the beach pretending to read  while checking out hot guys and inwardly sniggering at the loved up couples.

You know what made me go the beach? Waking up at 3 pm.

First I was up at 6 am. In terrible abdominal pain. No painkillers in my room so I got up to go to the kitchen to see if the other housemates had any;  nothing in the kitchen, so I went back to my room, tossed and turned until I fell asleep. When I woke up the pain was gone and it was a few minutes to 3. It was hot and sunny outside. I had planned to spend the day working on my assignment but I thought ‘fuck this, I’m going to the beach . I don’t care if I’ll stand out because I’m alone. I don’t care if nobody talks to me. I going the fucking beach.’

And I did. For two hours in my skimpy dress, I lay on my towel, pretended to read, walked by the shore, threw stones in the water, took pictures of myself. Alone. Nobody looked. Nobody talked to me. Nobody approached me. There were all loved up with their families, friends and boyfriends. Having BBQs and drinking. After two hours I left. Alone.

27/03/2010

Today I went for a walk. I must admit I do love the english countryside. It’s beautiful and when the country air just hits you  feel refreshed. My initial plan was to go to a very famous flower garden that I’ve been to once before…about two years ago but I got lost on the way there, so I decided to take a random wander. As much as I enjoyed this little walk, I was left very nostalgic. Two years ago I was living in a house of three men. One of them grew very close to me. I had just started uni, my depression was spiralling out of control, I was having difficulties keeping up with my course e.t.c and there he was. We use to sit and talk about everything: politics, relationships, cooking, world cultures. Just about everything. Every night we sat in the living room talking and laughing, sometimes watching the occasional movie on his laptop. Our house did not have any TV and the living room window directly faced a viaduct. He said he liked it that way. He said it made us more social. We could sit and talk to each other. I agreed despite my incurable addiction to the box. I loved everything about him. His hair (which he was growing out), his accent (He was from Poland), his hands, his beard (when he shaved I used to grab him from behind by the neck and pretend to be playing around, when all I wanted to do was feel the roughness of his beard on my hand). I can honestly say that this was (still is) the only man I had ever been close to in my life. The only man who I got along with. Ever. He was single and it was his last year of uni in UK. I was in  a long distance relationship. I was also naïve.  He started flirting with me. I flirted back  but I was always scared of things getting out of hand. I did not want to be unfaithful even though doubts about the relationship I was in had begun kicking in long before things got intense with this guy (I’ll call him P). P would come  home from uni everyday and either call out my name to see if I’m home and find out how I was doing, this would then be followed by him making me a cup of  tea and us sitting down for a chat, or upon seeing me in the living room  he would call out jokingly “Honey, I’m home.” We would laugh together. I used to sit across him sometimes in the house and he would look at me and I would feel as if  I was naked before him. Sometimes we would talk and then he would stop and look at me with those eyes. It got to a point where it was so intense and the only thing I could do was rush home to him. He was all I kept thinking about. I wanted him to make love to me. I looked at his hands and imagined how they’d feel on my body. I started deliberately doing things  so that I could touch him. I commented about his hair and  touched it. He did this too.

I remember one day we were at home with the other guys talking and laughing. It was really late. I said I was sleepy but didn’t want to go to bed. He joked and said that I must go to bed, because I was a child (he was six years older than me). I laughed and messed about and before I knew it he grabbed me by my waist and carried me upside down on his shoulders taking me to bed. I started screaming and laughing all the way. I’m not sure whether it was the intense feeling of pleasure I was getting from his hands on my waist and partly on my back or  the feeling of the house spinning as we got upstairs. At the door to my room I wanted and hoped he would come in. He put me down and as he did this, our bodies came together like we were hugging. I was going crazy inside. He patted me telling me to go and sleep and kissed me on my leg (random I know, he was very playful) I went to bed very happy. We went for walks together. We were together all the time. He told me about his work (he was  a design student) he told me about how since coming to UK he had confidence issues but he was getting better. We really spent a lot of time together. The day that he knew I had a boyfriend, he went a bit silent on me. I understood. Things again picked up but after many months the sexual tension took a toll on us. He started going cold on me. I did too, I guess as a form of payback. We had a last train journey together during the end of the winter term. I didn’t see him for a month, when we got back he kissed me on my cheek routine-like, a day later he told me he met someone. He told me as a matter of fact, like you would tell a friend in passing. He was on his phone texting when told me. He was so calm when he did it.

“We were supposed to have started something,” he said and smiled smugly.

“I’m just sending her a text. Maybe I’ll go to see her tonight,”

My heart sank. I sat there looking at him and all I could think of was how handsome he was. It should have been me. I should have been that girl he was texting. I should have been the one he was about to start something with. I just nodded, wished him luck and left him there. Days later he brought her home, they had dinner and went out. He brought her home some more. At this point he was ignoring me point-blank. Sometime he didn’t even say hi to me. I felt as if he was doing this just to spite me. He seemed to be overdoing things when she was around. The way they laughed. They way he talked (loudly) as if to  let me know what exactly was going on. I was so hurt. Really hurt. I can’t even begin to explain. Add this to the fact that at that time I badly wanted out of the relationship I was in.

The first time he brought her home and took her to his room (which was adjacent to mine) to have sex I cried. I cried so much I was taken by surprise. They were laughing and kissing loudly. I wanted to be that girl. Over time I came to learn that he had another girl in Poland. I didn’t know how this was working but he talked about it to the other guys in the house and somehow it felt as if he was in some sort of understanding with this girl he brought around. I don’t know whether the girl in Poland also had an understanding with him. It was all so confusing. I did sometimes have a slight feeling of relief whenever I thought about this. As if this girl had nothing on me, afterall she wasn’t the only one having him. My feelings for him never changed but we had stopped talking now. One day while everyone was in the house, he randomly came to the house and asked everyone to go for a walk with him and this girl, and another friend of his from Poland. I reluctantly said yes. We walked for a long time, got lost a long the way until we  finally got to this garden.

I retraced this path today. I walked along the quiet roads. Looked at all the places, flowers. Nothing has changed. They are just as they were when we were there.  I regret not taking the chance with P. I never stop thinking of what might have been. On the other hand I keep telling myself, maybe I would have ben hurt. On the walk we had I remember even though we hadn’t talked for sometime, he took a picture of me and showed it to everyone around. He said I looked nice. The girl looked at it and said yeah. I guess she just wanted to be polite. On the way back as I walked slowly behind, he urged me playfully to move faster. I don’t know maybe he missed me. Maybe he was punishing me for not giving him a chance. We went to a pub and I sat there with the others as he cuddled with the girl and they talked about how they didn’t sleep the previous night because they were busy with each other. I wanted to scream. We got back home and it was back to not talking to each other. I remember the last time I saw him. It was end of term. I was leaving to go see my parents, he was leaving for his graduation. A friend of his from Poland had come for the graduation and there was a lot of activity going on. He was smart in his black trousers and cream shirt adjusting his tie. He just came downstairs, wished me well in my life and went back upstairs to continue getting ready. Just like that, he was out of my life.