I Admit It….
Yes, I know, I know; I should be working on my Broadcasting Law & Ethics assignment that is due on Tuesday. And I know, I know; I should be promoting And yes, I know, I know; I should be finishing for book club.
But the thing is this. I cannot concentrate on any of those things. Why is this, you may ask. Well, I’m just sad. And I don’t like being sad. I don’t like feeling let down. I don’t like being hurt. And I don’t like feeling like crap.
Yet, I feel all these things. Though part of me is jumping for joy, as I have just paid for my remainder of my trek and flights (but they’re from London – boooo)
So anyway. Here goes, a bit more info than I thought I would ever give out….
Two years ago, I moved out. Not for the first time. I had tried twice before, and it wouldn’t be the final time either (that happened February 24, 2011). It was hard. Not just for me, but for the children as well. The girl had some inkling of what was happening, the boy just thought he was getting sleepovers at Grandma & Grandad’s.
It wasn’t an easy time. On December 8 or 9, 2010, I went to see the counsellor at Glyndwr University. I was struggling with university, the children and, basically, life. What I didn’t expect to happen was what did – even though I was secretly desperate for it to happen.
On December 15, 2010, I met up with a legal aid solicitor, and applied for divorce. I then told my friend in Freiburg, Germany & my friend in Denver, CO. They also knew about the counsellor. I then told a friend that weekend. And then my sister about a week later, who told my Mam, who told my Dad. Stuff then happened in my parents kitchen, that resulted in me breaking down into tears, with my boy staring at me, wondering what was going on. And my Mam and the girl discovering me in a heap, and Mam telling me to just tell him & move.
When my Dad arrived home, he watched the children, and I grabbed a load of stuff from home, whilst Mam stood in the front doorway. He was in the lounge, and didn’t even move. I then text him, and told him that all I wanted for Christmas was a divorce. This was Christmas Eve.
Everyone knows it has happened, not many know why. That isn’t important. I changed my name back to Pritchett in April 2011 – celebrating with champers in Freiburg, whoop, whoop! The divorce was finally finalised in March 2012. And the three of us have been living with the most wonderful parents/grandparents, since February 2011.
Time has passed. Things have been said, things have not been said. Things have happened. And we’ve both moved on.
So here is what I will admit too. Are you ready?
I joined Plenty of Fish. Shocking? Maybe not. Was a little bit surprised that I actually did it, and part of me will always blame Paul for talking me into it.
I didn’t really do much with it. I had put in the basic details, wrote a profile that didn’t really give off much information, and added some pictures (which I later updated with much more information, and more photos).
Then this super yummy guy messaged me. And we talked (for about 2 weeks, maybe slightly longer), and it was nice, and he was lovely. Then we didn’t meet (he had to suddenly go to Cardiff for work), and then we didn’t meet again. Heard nothing from him since. Met up with a guy who looked older than my Dad, and felt like I was out with my Grandad! Met up with a guy, that would probably make an okay friend, but I just don’t know how to say “err, no thanks”. Met up with a really nice guy, who I guess I kinda did date, still dating, but he lives in Manchester and works abroad – so I don’t know how to feel about that one. There’s been guys who talk the talk, plan to meet, then nothing or they give you their number, and ask for photos and then nothing (I’m thinking these are the ones lying about their relationship status) – these are annoying. As are the ones who are after something that I’m not willing to give. And then there are some that I am having some good conversations with.
But then there is the one that is actually the whole reason for this post. And maybe I shouldn’t be so, I dunno, sensitive. I didn’t do the whole dating thing. With all three guys (including the ex-husband), we went straight to being in a relationship. And then I was married, thinking it was forever. I guess I should have realised long ago that there is only one person you have a life-long relationship with, and that is yourself. And that there is only one person who you can count on for everything, and that is God.
Well, anyway. This guy. He was, well, there are just too many wonderful words to describe him. We spent about a week messaging through pof/whatsapp. Which then resulted in a date, which was really, really nice. He was actually interested in me, and not what I was wearing under my clothes! It was good food, with great conversation. And he was such a gentleman, offering to pick me up, which I politely refused. But he did give me a lift home, and opened the door for me. And it was good, it was really good. And the talking via whatsapp continued int0 the evening, and carried on the next morning. Talking about the previous evening, things we needed to do that week, and about meeting the following weekend.
And that is where is ended.
No answering calls (when the phone is on).
No pof messages.
The paranoid feeling that there is something wrong with you, fills you up completely. Debilitating you from anything that is meant to be done. Then you start asking the question, “Is there something wrong with me, or are all men just jerks (or some expletive)?” And, as not all men are jerks, then clearly the other part of the question must be true. But it can’t be. I mean, if there was something wrong with me, wouldn’t I already know by now? So you turn to other people, who knew about the date, and ask. Then they give you the answer, it’s not you, it’s them. But surely that is just because it is what I wanted to hear, or am I really that amazingly perfect. Well, we all know I’m not.
And now, all I am thinking is…. I should be writing about contempt of court, and not this. But I can’t think about balancing up the competing principles of the right to a fair trial and the media’s freedom of expression, when all I can think is…. “Why? Why? Why couldn’t he just be a man and say ‘It was nice, but no thanks'” And yes, you may now be thinking, aren’t you doing the same with that guy you talked about earlier – honestly, he does not take a hint!
So, as I know he has read my blog (though don’t know if he still is reading it or not), I just want to point out that, I am becoming a lesbian!
No, not really. But I am fed up of being made to feel like crap. I have even wondered if I should have stayed in a marriage that I wanted out of for 4.5 years. I want to say I’m done, I can live on my own, bring the children up as a single parent, and not need to have a partnership & intimacy with someone. But that would be lie, and I can’t do it. Although, I guess it isn’t a need, it is more of a want, some maybe it wouldn’t be a lie…
So, if you see a nice, single guy that you think would be good for me – call me!! I really don’t want to be sitting her eating Chinese take out, chocolate and drinking a can of Mojito or Southern Comfort – I might be having both tonight – on my own.
Posted on 11 January, 2013, in Life and tagged Carrie Foster, Dating, Glyndwr University, Jasper Fforde, More Than Just A Numer, Plenty of Fish, POF, The Eyre Affair. Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.