Lost

I think it's safe to say right now I'm feeling lost.

My inner compass went haywire somewhere in the midst of the Luke thing and since then I don't think it has been working as it should.

At the moment I feel like I'm on autopilot, just functioning, but mostly without feeling. Its like I'm lost in myself and I'm not sure where I need to be looking.

I'm restless because of it. I can't get to sleep at night and I can't wake in the morning.

I think this weekend I'm going to have to give myself a break from all the things I fill my days with to distract myself and embrace it a little.

One of the things I have thought about in the quiet hours late at night is Graham, my first and - I think it is safe to say - only love. He is the only person I refer to on this blog by his real name, because I can't think of him as anyone else.

I know why I think about him - he is the only person I have ever really let in and he is the only person I have ever had to let out. He was the person who saw all my fears and embraced me and heard all my hopes and let me go.

I wish I had never let him go - but I did. All I have now is memory.

But to regret is to move backwards and to do that would drag me further into the mire.

I think what I need to do now is find my compass again, pack away memories back into the past where they belong and move on.

I've given myself enough time to wallow - I need to actively move on, grow stronger and grow better.

Suze x

Where did all the good men go?

At the moment I am quite disillusioned with the world of men.

Portia and I headed to the pub the other night and were chatting to a couple of decent guys, naturellement.

But after a while, as I chatted to one of the guys at the bar, he slid along the bar, which was supporting his right side, and slurred "you're really lovely. Fancy a snog?"

Classy. Naturally unimpressed Portia, who was fending off his inebriated friend who was trying for her number, and I decided to move on.

I'm beginning to wonder now. Is it just me or are all the men out there lacking somewhat?

I think any woman's ideal has to be someone in the line of Jimmy Stewart - a quirkily handsome man, with warmth, a war hero with integrity. A real blokie bloke who isn't ashamed of his family and is genuine to boot.

Try typing in "Jimmy Stewart" and "scandal" into google - all you get is "The scandal of Stewart's life is the absence of scandal" and other flattering things.

Then try "Brad Pitt" and "scandal" or "Tom Cruise". See what I mean?

Where have all the good guys gone? Surely there must be at least a few modern day Jimmy Stewarts out there? Sadly there seems to be little evidence of them.

Is it too much to ask for - a man who wants to lasso the moon for you?

Suze x

The joys of internet dating (and why I'll never do it again)

In an attempt to shift my relationship (or lack of therein) existential funk I confess I tried internet dating.

I logged onto one of the sites that popped up on my search engine, signed up and logged on to chat.

Almost from the start I found it easy - the anonymity was liberating, the capacity to talk to people online then and there refreshing and the fact you can see a full and frank profile (and picture) of the individual you're talking to gave me a sense of security.

One guy I stated talking to seemed great. There was a lot in his profile - Bobo1981 - which marked him out as a good guy, caring and interesting.

We started chatting online and really got on, finding so much in common and really getting on like a house on fire.

It made me wonder - could I introduce a guy I met off the internet to my friends - I mean where is the stigma in this?

Surely in this modern age the Internet is just what the bar and nightclub has always been - but instead of drunken lust, which sees beer glasses turning any man under 30 who isn't too much of a prat into an Adonis - and deafening music which means you don't hear what a fool your Adonis truly is, you have sober, intelligent communication with the ability to exit at the touch of a button.

No more drunken gropes, no leery lurching towards you for a kiss - and with the ultimate benefit of being able to know more about a person before you commit to a face to face.

I was beginning to think that the Internet was the future of dating when something flashed up on the IM from Bobo.

"Do u like cum"

I was stunned. Usually in relationships questions of such a nature don't come until at last the third or fourth carnal unions. I was floored. I didn't realise that the anonymity would work against me.

I typed "I don't think I'm the kind of girl you're looking for." to which I got a reply of "Ok".

Ok? It was like, by being in an almost different reality, the sexual etiquette rule book went out of the window.

I know that men see things differently, but at least in real life they play by the rules. And you generally can weed out the freaks, perverts and weirdos using your instincts when you are face to face - something you can't do with the false sense of security you get from anonymity.

I decided then and there that Internet dating was not for me and took my profile off the site. I want to know what I'm dealing with both physically and mentally, equipped with a sense of reality, before I have to deal with the word "cum" in serious conversation - unless it's in discussions about Black Country glam rock group Slade...

Suze x

Patience

I am in a foul mood today.

And I think I have for some weeks.

I’m genuinely cross about being the only single in my group of work friends. I can’t stand being the only one any more. Being third-wheel-Suze is pissing me off something chronic.

As previously discussed I’m not interested in defining myself with another person nor am I desperate to be wed or get sprogged up.

But my loneliness, particularly in these days of bad weather and snow, is now palpable.

I find it tough to see Lucie and Sebastian sharing a lassi after a red-faced Lucy has burnt her mouth out on a fiery curry, it hurts to see Paul and Isabelle rowing over petty mishaps and couples holding hands in the street just make me feel bitter.

It would be nice to be able to call someone when you see something that tickles you – when you see a three foot snow-rendering of a man’s genitalia like I did today – or have someone to share time with, cuddle up to for warmth or just even be quiet with.

The craving is a bit like a craving for drugs. The urge can sometimes take over, almost to the point of having an almost physical hold on you.

The other night the loneliness pushed me to the edge and I rang Luke, just to have a bit of banter. The opiate type effects of sharing lasted for a short while, then I found myself craving more.

I don’t know what to do. I’ve lost all my patience.

Suze x

Candyfloss

Last night as Portia and I went once more into the breech - aka the local generic dodgy nightclub - I had an odd encounter in the toilets.



A woman in her mid 40s stood next to me at the mirror and turned to me as I reapplied my lipstick.

"I wish my hair was glossy like yours, mine just looks like candy floss and I can't do a thing with it," she said fingering her curly flyaway blonde locks.

We started chatting about different hair care products and as we did the details of why she, a once happy mother of three children, was once again thrown into the hedonistic misery of the 40 somethings scene that thrives inside the particular club we were in.

She did have it all, the happy and warm life that many of us dream of in the concept of matrimony. She had clearly once been a beauty, with amber eyes and high cheekbones, but had clearly been putting her family and hubby first for many years and had neglected herself.

Then one day, about six months ago, her husband walked out and, not without insulting her appearance, personality and general being, had crushed her world.

This woman's husband had not just abandoned her - her stole something from her. Her family, her life, her self and worse still her sense of hope.

But she was here, in this awful meat market, trying. Wearing the going out clothes she used to wear for family functions on a frame that was almost three stone lighter through the grief of a break-up. But she was doing that thing that marks out survivors from those who fall at the wayside.

I turned to her and said: "You know what you should do. Go to the hairdressers, go find yourself a new look to mark the new single you, buy some hair serum and find yourself again.

"You are beautiful, I mean look at your divine cheekbones."

Candyfloss was lost somewhere between bashful blushing and tears. Clearly it had been so long since someone had called her beautiful.

I smiled at her and said "good luck" before returning to the dancefloor to rejoin Portia in time for my favourite dancing song (Queen's Don't Stop Me Now).

I'd like to pay tribute to Candyfloss and all women who go on, rebuild and thrive in the absence of hope, the absence of that which they have grown to know and rely on and above all in the absence of a man.

And I'd also call for you all to help the Candyflosses of this world - because they are everywhere looking for a glimmer of hope - just by being a warm reality check that preserves their dignity and helps them move on.



Suze x

Friendship

When life seems like the darkest and dimmest it can get, it is good to know that friends can dig you out with the smallest of gestures, whether it be a hug or a conversation about getting little shark fins to wear on your head to literally go sharking in.

I'd just like to pay tribute to my good friend Portia, who despite it all is a source of hope for me and a glimmer of joy in the greyness of life.

Regular service will hopefully resume today or tomorrow - next post soon I promise,

Suze x