Love


Haven’t been here for a while, to the point that I couldn’t actually remember how to post. However I’ve managed to work it out so in a little rosé induced fog I am blogging this red (or rather rosé) letter week for my own benifit, as I have long since lost any few followers I ever had. The reason I am bothering to write is that in the last two weeks I have had my drawings framed and hung in my local café, I have been on tour in Ireland with my French chamber choir (singing incredibly obscure 17th century music) and have just returned for the café myself and a few pals were toating my wee photo expo AND I have gotten a grant to write my French based script. THESE ARE GOOD TIMES!!! When things go belly up, as buddists and Irish pessimists always say they alway will, I want to remember this week and hence am blogging to mark it. I am begining to think this impulse based to Paris was quite a good idea afterall. All I need now is a bit of romance and today, when been chatted up in a café I had high hopes I was going to have it all…until he stood up..and came to my shoulder..and put on his anorak, so it seems you can’t have it all after all. Ah well.

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I have acquired a husband. He is French, he is tall and he is terribly jealous and posessive. He is also completely imaginary. I summon him up when I am being mildly hassled by blokes who are too pleasant to be assualted with a barrage of abusive sounding Gaelic yet too insistent to be off of with a simple ‘non merci’ to their invitations to coffee.
Thing is, when I’m bluffing about him, I almost start to believe in him myself. I get a little buzz at the thought of him waiting impatiently for me at home in our wonderful apartment, cooking something delicious for a romantic dinner a deux. Yes his jealousy IS a bit over the top at times but he considers me such a prize he presumes all other men are crazy for me too. What a fall I set myself up for when I am faced again with the stark reality of my dog smelling room and a melted lump of camembert.

However for all my husband is tall, sexy and loves me I’d drop him in a shot if one actual cutey asked me for coffee.

Wow! Aren’t emotions funny things? I have been ODing on ‘Dexter’ the fabulous Showtime show about a serial killer. As far as he’s concerned he’s an emotionless monster but every now and again little bubbles of anger, love, fear rise up to disconcert him.

I can’t say I have any empathy with a serial killer, but this morning I am very hung over, having spent last night singing up a storm and downing piches of rose in an Irish pub. Hence this morning my capacity to feel anything other then the pain behind my right eye, has been rather blunted…

And then I go on Facebook, and I see a post by an ex. And it contains a photo of his girlfriend, the one with whom he has an on off relationship ( he hooked up with me on one of the off phases) It’s on again. And she’s gorgeous…

And lo and behold a big bubble of jealousy manages to surge its way through the dense gel of my hangover!! I mean for fecks sake, I wasn’t even that into him, and I know from the horse’s mouth, the relationship continues to be fraught so my jealousy is ill-founded and illogical . But as Dexter finds out in season 3, the old emotions have no logic.

A little google trawl has revealed that a person upon which I contemplated having a crush makes music videos with very georgous very famous French actresses. I think I shall refocus my sights on the 22 year old waiter. My mate snogged a 23 year old while drunk in a pub in Manchester last week, so that’s like…permission isn’t it? She said he had very soft skin.

I was having a rather intense conversation with a friend yesterday, as one does on Paris cafe terraces. At one point I had to ask him, about his girlfriend, ‘Are you in love with her’. He paused! In a script we’d write..’a beat’ or even ‘two beats’…or three, and then said ‘yeah, I suppose..but then how do you know’? How indeed?

I’ve been in love twice. One relationship ended disastorously, the other barely got going, but I do remember clearly at certain points, seeing the concernced parties walk into pubs (of course.. it was Ireland) and feeling EVERY nerve ending in my body turning, like flowers to the sun, and STRAINING to be near them. That’s how I knew.

I haven’t come anywhere close in being in love in far too long a time. However I have fancied people with varying degrees of intensity. Some kind rather idly, some just for the sake of it and so a couple of times I have asked myself ‘how do I know if I really fancy them?’. I now have a sure fire litmus test.

How much do I google them?

If I google them for every nugget of information I can glean, I fancy them. If not, no. I dated an extremely cute guy last year with a strong internet presense and you know, I just couldn’t quite be bothered to trawl through his personal internet site. Of course it ended. However for another guy, I even managed to track down pictures of his girlfriend to have MY friend confirm that she did indeed have thick ankles.
For one of the guys I loved, I even read what I found for people with the same name! But that was just pathetic.

So if you in any doubt, just open up their facebook page and see can you be arsed going through their photos, record selections and the history of their status updates. That’ll tell you!

I love films, especially ones which resonate with me personally. I just watched ‘The Miracle Worker’ with Anne Bancroft and Patty Duke, great stuff. I’ve taught a bit, so I was like ‘I get this’. One of my favorite films is ‘The Shawshank Redemption. Realistically I’d say I wouldn’t last five minutes in prison, but until I’m put to the test, I would like to think that, like Andy, hope would keep me going. However recently I watched something that resonanted like an earthquake to my very core!! Ep X from the 3rd season of Private Practise! I’m not being facitious, it’s a really good show. The show runner is a woman and it shows. Every other week, the main protaginist, Addison, has a 30 something dilemma which tends to hit a nerve, but after ep X in particular, I’m reeling still.

Basically she got stuck in a car in a (of course) potentially deadly situation with a pregnant woman about to give birth. Meanwhile the woman’s injured husband lay outside, also (of course) near death. Anyway, trying to compell the woman to hold on, Addison urged her “you have to live, if you die, that man outside there will be broken..if I die, no one will be broken, they’ll be sad, but not broken, you can’t die, you can’t break that man.” You can see where this is going can’t you…

NO ONE WILL BE BROKEN IF I DIE!!!

Sure, like Addison, people will be very very sad (…I presume) . My pal Sinead said she’d be ‘bent’! Someone else came up with ‘a bit skewed’, but bent and skewed are very far from ‘broken’! ‘What about your parents’ people have asked (I’ve been dwelling on this for a while now) Well, yeah, again I presume they’d be devastated, but no more so then if one of the other many siblings got run over! And anyway, it’s their job so it doesn’t really count.

No, I want some man who is so passionatly in love with ME (ME ME ME) that his world would be DESTROYED where I to kick it while giving birth in a precariously balenced vechicle. Obviously I don’t put this on my internet dating profile and I don’t mention it on a first date, and it’ s not that I want to break someone pre se, but it’s just the princible of the thing. ‘Bent’ just doesn’t cut it.

Oh crap! I just got my first rude email from my internet dating site! Some bloke, seeing me on line, asked me if I wanted to msn to see his **** like right now! He actually used **** but I can kind of guess what was going to be on view.

On a more pleasant note, Cute Date Guy is back in contact (note to self, learn to create links`to past posts). Turned out he hadn’t gone awol, he’d gone to Stokholm and Amsterdam to meet some friends. What’s more two of my friends, who are usually quick to run down men, told me I was being too needy and demanding for expecting regular contact after one date, especially from someone met on the internet.

In fact my mate Amber, who met her guy on-line, told me he used deliberatly NOT email women for a week or so in order to weed out the ‘crazies’, ie the women who would get in a strop about it. Hmm I think that makes me a *****. I think we can all fill in the blanks.

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