Hard Questions – Wicked Wednesday

Wicked Wednesday

Welcome to my 22nd post for Rebel’s Notes‘ Wicked Wednesday, Hard Questions. You don’t have to use the prompt but I like the inspiration, and challenge. The prompt for this week was:

hard questionsAre there something you want to ask, or someone you want to ask something? Or maybe someone has asked you a question and you want to answer it? This is the week to share your questions… and answers.

Hard Questions

Most people would tell you I’m pretty open. I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, and if I’m feeling something I will tell you. If I say I miss you, it is because I really do miss you. Sometimes the open book is a good thing…sometimes it isn’t. Because when people always think they know what you’re feeling by your actions, reactions, and the expression on your face it’s gets easy to fool them into seeing what you want them to see. I am very skilled at putting on a brave face.

You may be wondering what all that has to do with the hard questions. Well when it really matters, when my emotions are on the line, that’s where I put on my brave face; I don’t ask the hard questions, and I certainly don’t answer them…..at least not completely honestly. This comes under the same category as not letting them see you hurt. I don’t tend to do that. If you’ve seen me cry (when it wasn’t at a book, film, etc), then I must have really been at some sort of breaking point, right at my limits because that’s the only way the brave face cracks.

So what are these hard questions; Do you like me? Do you love me? Do you want to go out with me? What’s wrong? What does that mean? Where did it go wrong?

And the answers that scare me the most: Yes, no, everything, nothing, I can’t tell you, I can’t tell YOU, I don’t know, maybe.  Any answer to those questions scares me. Because experience has taught me that my answering, and my asking have serious negative consequences. They won’t lead to good things, and even if they do it won’t last.

So until someone is willing to scale the walls I’ve built, and slay the demons I’m hiding, I’ll just smile and nod, and say I’m okay because that’s what I do. Maybe someday someone will be worthy, will think I’m worth it, will tell me what I need to hear so that I can fight through, and start to believe. And maybe they won’t but either way I won’t let them see me cry. This song seems to fit what I’m trying to say.


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Valentine Day – Personal Post I Hate Valentine’s Day

Personal Post

I hate Valentine Day, hate it with a passion. It has nothing to do with being single, I hate it all the time. Always have. It is complete and utter commercial clap-trap.

valentine day

The price of chocolate, flowers, etc all goes up. It’s impossible to get a table at a decent restaurant, and even if you do manage to book a table, it won’t be a romantic dinner for two. There is nothing romantic about brushing elbows with the next table because the restaurant (wanting to capitalise on the romance bullshit) have crammed in an extra dozen or so tables.

I really hate Valentine Day. I’d rather a guy showed me he loved me the other 364 days of the year, in little (cost nothing) ways, than make some grand romantic gesture on one day because they feel they have to. Don’t waste money buying me flowers and chocolates on Valentine’s when if you wait three days you can buy me three times as much for the same money. It’s insane.

I’ve always been like this, even at school where everyone makes a big deal, and you are made to participate in card swaps, I was the person who refused to accept cards. Especially when there were kids who felt bad because no-one gave them a card. Urgh. The whole thing just makes me crazy.

valentine day

Valentine Day

I actually broke up with an ex because of Valentine Day. In the run up he’d been asking me what I wanted, and I explained quite calmly and reasonably that I didn’t want anything, not even a card. And I wouldn’t be getting him anything. I told him how much I dislike the day, and that it is basically commercial nonsense made-up to wheedle more money out of people for no reason. I had this same conversation with him at least twice a week for about four weeks running up to Valentine’s.

So imagine my surprise when he turns up at my place on Valentine Day, with presents, one of those hideous giant cards, wine, and tells me he’s taking me out to dinner. I tried to be gracious about it; I went and got changed into a pretty dress, I gushed over my present (which was actually pretty cool), enthused about the wine, and thanked him for the card. Maybe you can see the road-bump coming, have you guessed what caused the argument…..

I stand up to get my coat so we can go to the restaurant (after displaying the hideous card on a windowsill), he frowns, and says “Where’s mine?” Exactly those words…… “Where’s mine?” I have to admit, I think my mouth fell open in shock. I stared at him lost for words, well I wasn’t actually lost for words, my inner voice was just screaming curse words so loud I couldn’t manage to form a coherent sentence. I think my first actual words were to ask if he was kidding, closely followed by a comment on his intelligence and parentage.

I’m not sure how we ended up still going to the restaurant but it really wasn’t the best idea. We’d been lucky enough to catch one of their booths, now under normal circumstances their booths were great. They’re rounded, with a round table so you can sort of snuggle. However, under these circumstances it wasn’t good. We were sat so far apart we might actually have been trying to join the couples at the tables next to us, while we glared at each other with folded arms. I at least managed to be polite to the waiter, a frazzled looking young man, who cheerfully asked if either of us had the vegetarian option, and would we like red or white wine with our meal. (Another thing I hate about restaurants on Valentine Day are the bloody set menus – grrrrr). After he brought us our wine, he disappeared again in a hurry. After gulping down half of his glass of wine he finally spoke to me,
“I can’t believe you. Who does that.”
I took a deep breath before I answered, desperate not to cause a scene, “I’m not sure what you can’t believe, we discussed this more than once. I told you I wasn’t, and that you shouldn’t.”
He threw back the rest of his wine and slammed his glass on the table, causing the couple at the next table to jump,  “That’s all you’re going to say? I told you so?”
I picked up my glass, and sipped my wine, doing my best to ignore him. He continued glaring at me, as he waved his empty wine glass at the waiter. The starter was basic pate and toast but it tasted nice, and they didn’t have to worry about it getting cold. However, it did nothing to soak up the booze, and one of us was drinking like a fish.

The real trouble started with his fourth glass, I still hadn’t spoken again. The waiter was now practically sprinting away any time he had to stop by our table, and the couple next to us had shifted their table away from us slightly, and moved their chairs so they had their back to us. We’d just had our main course put in front of us, and to say it was underwhelming would be generous. If you’d put both plates together it still wouldn’t have made a decent portion. I just sat looking at it, trying not to say what I was thinking but I didn’t need to, he said it……loudly.
“What a bloody waste of money. Are you kidding me with this shit?” He looked up trying to catch the waiter but he’d mysteriously vanished, he glared at me. “Are you happy now, you fucking bitch?”
The restaurant went silent, and I felt anger flash through me. I knew my face and ears must have been bright red because I felt the rush of heat from the anger. I stood up pushing away from the table, but of course being in the booth, it was the table that moved, dumping his dinner, both glasses of wine, and our water into his lap. “Happy? I am now.” And I walked away, apologising to the waiter and slipping him a tenner on my way out the door.

I got as far as the next corner before my breathing slowed down. And then to the surprise of everyone within earshot, I yelled out a number of my favourite curse words, calling him every name I could come up with. By the time I’d finished I was completely over him, and I started laughing. I got home, chucked the card in the recycling, opened the wine, and put a film on.

I really hate Valentine Day.


*Apologies for the missing ‘s on Valentine throughout, my SEO app didn’t like it.

Still Broken – Wicked Wednesday #12

Wicked Wednesday

Welcome to my 12th post for Rebel’s Notes‘ Wicked Wednesday, Still Broken. You don’t have to use the prompt but I like the inspiration, and challenge. The prompt for this week was:

For this week’s prompt I will just leave this quote with you…

Still Broken

We are all broken that’s how the light gets in

Update: Even though the image says that the quote is by Hemingway, this might not be entirely true.

Image source


Still Broken

He mumbles in his sleep, and reaches to pull me closer, his arm drapes over my waist, his hand resting on my stomach. I lie awake hardly daring to breathe, I want to sleep but I daren’t close my eyes. What if I fall asleep and when I wake up he’s gone?

It’s taken me forever to get here. To feel like this. But part of me still doesn’t believe it. I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because so many times in the past that’s what has happened. Everything is great, I think it’s working and then it falls apart.

I’ve had great sex when I was in love, that ended when it turned out all we actually had was great sex, and although I loved him he definitely didn’t love me. In fact he’d been lying to me for six months…….but the sex was really good. Really really good.

I’ve had bad sex, and I mean truly terrible sex, when I thought it was a situation that had potential. When you meet someone and the chemistry is phenomenal, and everything is going great, and then the sex is just terrible. There’s no connection, no fire, no possibility.

I’ve had okay sex, when it was just about sex. Sex that was had because I wanted it. It was fun, I enjoyed it but it didn’t rock my world. It scratched an itch, and answered some questions I had. It also helped me see that sex for the sake of it can be a lot of fun. You don’t have to be in love to have sex without it sucking.

I’ve had the kind of sex that you only have when you’re young and in love. That heady, can’t eat, can’t sleep, my whole body is burning for you sex. The kind that you remember through rose-coloured glasses. That is always good in your memory.

I’ve also had great sex with a friend, that was just about great sex. The kind that makes you want to set off fireworks, send up balloons, and dance with pompoms. The kind that makes you crave more. It’s not about love; it’s about a connection, about being something that the other needs, about being friends. About fucking amazing sex. About trusting someone to see a side of you you’ve never shared. About trusting someone and being able to explore without pressure or judgement.

In the last 18 months my life has changed a lot. It’s needed to change. I’ve needed to change. For the most part I’m ready for what’s coming next. I don’t know what that is. Or what is going to happen. But I know I’m ready for some fun. I don’t think my future is going to look anything like I imagined it would even just a year ago.

Maybe I’m still broken but I’m ready to let in the light.


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The Myth of Happy Ever After

As children we read fairy stories that give us a very specific idea of what constitutes happily ever after. You overcome your difficulties, find your one true love, who loves you back, you get married and the story ends so they lived happily ever after. As if they never had another problem.

Well I am calling BULLSHIT on the whole thing.

There is no happy ever after. Even if you do find the love of your life, and they happen to actually love you back, it’s not going to be perfect forever more. You will fight, you will argue, you will occasionally hate each other, and chances are one of you will die leaving the other alone. There is no happily every after. Relationships take work.

I want to believe that there’s someone for everyone, that we all get to find that person (or persons) who completes us, who makes us feel we can deal with anything the universe throws at us because we have them standing beside us. Bit I don’t know why I try to believe it so much because nothing in my life has shown me that is what happens. In fact my life has shown me the complete opposite. My parents were soul mates who found each other when they were both in the mid-thirties, my mum was divorced and my dad had never been married. They managed to find each other against all odds, and they loved each other very much but they didn’t get their happy ever after. They got twelve years and then he got to watch her die slowly from cancer, and he had to raise their daughter by himself.

Even if they hadn’t had me I think my dad would have said he would rather have had those twelve years with her, and lost her than to have never known her. But no matter how great those twelve years were, they weren’t a happy ever after.

I’ve not dated loads of guys but I’ve noticed something about my dating history. I seem to find two types of guys. There are the ones who are great fun but it’s just about sex, and even if you get on it’s not really a recipe for happy ever after. Then there are the other guys, the ones I think are actually good guys, they’re nice, and funny, and smart, and lovely, and I could totally fall for them. Then they turn out to not at all be what they said they were, you know the ones, after a few months they accidentally say we went to xx last week and you look confused as you ask them “who’s we?” And they casually explain they have a wife/girlfriend/etc.

By now you’d think I’d have developed some sort of radar that picks up on the bullshit but I don’t seem to have managed it. Even if I do start thinking a guy might be stringing me along, or feeding me a line it is completely over-ridden by the hopeful part of me, the part who wants to believe that not only do nice guys exist but that there is someone out there who could love me as much as I could love them.  I really want to believe but I think it is all just bullshit. Nice guys who want relationships just don’t exist, or if they do they don’t have any interest in me, other than for sex, sexy messaging, etc.

So I’ve decided I am calling BULLSHIT on the happily ever after. And I’ll take the happy right now……..where I can get it.

My Mask

This post is a little different from the stuff I normally post but I had words I needed to say and this feels like the right place to say them.

I’m not one of those people who really talks about stuff. I seem like I am and as anyone who knows me will tell you I often overshare but when it comes to the really important stuff I keep it close. That being said most people will say I’m an open book, and I do tend to wear my heart on my sleeve but I’m very skilled at smiling and telling you what you want to hear.

Having suffered from depression since I was fifteen, I am very good at putting on a brave face. At pretending I am doing just fine. I’m so good at it that my ex missed the fact I was suicidal, so good that none of my ‘family’ (and I use that word very loosely) ever knew about my attempt, so good that when i moved I convinced my shrink to discharge me rather than transferring me.

I was thinking today about that mask. About how I chat, and laugh, and flirt, and say all the right things, the expected things, but it’s not real it’s a screen. I feel like most of the time there’s only that facade. It’s not really me, it’s just the mask I show the world.

Sex is one of the few times I don’t feel I have to put on a ‘front’, I like it, I enjoy it, and I have fun. I don’t have to pretend or fake it. I can just be in the moment and savour the feeling. It’s relaxing……and not just in the obvious way but in a “I can lose the mask and just be” sort of way. And afterwards, the post-coital haze, always feels like a safe place to just chat and be yourself.

Maybe it’s not just the sex I crave but that feeling of being able to really truly relax. Don’t get me wrong I LOVE the sex, i really really love the sex. But I like that feeling too. And if you really want to know me maybe it’s the only way to do it.