Confessions and apologies

I have read on-line about the aftermath of one blogger whose significant other found his blog-site. In his blog, he relayed his experiences of using prostitutes. A subject that I am sure his wife found quite offensive. Up until now, B knew of the existence of the blog, but expressed his lack of interest in it. As would only be natural; he changed his mind.

It is of no surprise to anyone, except me perhaps, that he "googled" and found me, and began reading this blog.

And the comments.

From the very beginning.

His revelation to me came the other night after we had enjoyed another delightful evening together. I was upset, nervous and panicked, all at the same time. Fearful of his reaction, feeling a little violated, but also knowing that if you put something out there on the web - it is public space and not appropriate for me to act protective.

I suppose his only real grievance was the thought that I may have feelings or thoughts of someone else. And this is an understandable worry, but there should be no worry. No matter how it may sound B, you are the only one in my heart. I am sorry if you were at all hurt by any thoughts that may have been different. Our private life is indeed very precious, and between us and no-one else.

Driving Lessons

I love driving my car. I love driving other people's cars. Hey, I am a car slut.

I love driving my car and listening to my favourite CD's REALLY LOUD. With the poor design of most abodes these days, and your inevitable proximity to neighbours, listening to music loudly at home verges on being incredibly self-centred and rude. And then don't even think about singing along with the music. So when I am in the car, you can spot me as the one who is unself-consciously singing along at a screeching volume.

But today I realised something about my in-car musical tastes. I slipped in some very fine Sinatra, turned up the volume and made my way on the freeway to go home. As the lane I was in began to merge with existing traffic, a horn exploded and made me dash to the brake. It was then that I realised that the horn was only on the CD and not from fellow motorists. So I warn you all - DO NOT LISTEN TO BIG BAND MUSIC IN THE CAR.

This has been a friendly community message brought to you by Cath.

Impossiblities

Something I have been contemplating the past few days is whether or not men and women can ever really be friends. In "When Harry Met Sally", this same question was posed. Depending upon who you asked, the answer was yes or no, but the sex part seems to get in the way.

So, I have been trying to review my friendships with men and cataloguing whether there was any sex issues. To cut down the list of male friends, I figured I would only include those gentlemen with whom I could call up and chat with - just like I would with a girlfriend.

First there was G. We were friends from infancy to the mid-teenage years. Actually, come to think of it, our friendship began its demise about the time that our hormones began to make their appearance known. I still blame him for my predilection for blondes and cyclists.

Then there was M. I definitely did not want anything sexual from him - on that I can assure you. He was like a male version of myself and could understand any quirkiness that I possessed - especially my love for Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney movies. (Side note: he is not gay). The problem here of course was that he was besotted with me. For about 5 years. Hmmm. Another bad example.

For a brief while there was L. A beautiful looking man, whom I did quite desire, but knew that his leanings were elsewhere. I was definitely friends with him, and the sexual tension dissipated quite quickly when you are after the same men.

At university, there were numerous men that I was friends with, but they generally wanted me for my neat lecture notes and little more. I, on the other hand, after 12 years of private girls school, was slightly distracted by attractive men in my class. It was here that I met C. A wonderful man that I had a crush on for quite a while - and he acted like I never existed. The irony is that now we can talk about it and laugh it off.

Finally at work, I was friends with A for many years. He was a colleague, but much more than that - and I can proudly declare that there was absolutely NO sexual tension between us. Actually, it took a girlfriend of mine to point out to me that she thought he was quite a good-looking man. I had difficulty seeing him objectively.

Most importantly there was AB. A truer friend a person could never find. Since I have known him he has been with his current partner, R, and I suppose that has always limited the thoughts of any sexual kind. He is amazing. He is brother, confidante, support network, and a beautiful soul.

There is also R and F - my boys, as I would call them. Loveliest men on the planet. Again, I met them when they both had partners, and I think it made me see them for the people they are, other than just being two more penises.

Finally, there is S. I have waxed lyrical about S before. There is no sexual tension between us. But the for the first time in a very long time, my previous clear boundaries have blurred a little.

I suppose it is a romantic ideal of mine that a life partner of mine would be both a friend and a lover. 'Tis a romantic ideal - that is all. I think for me, men can only be friends of mine when there is NO tension, and this ideally when they are either; ugly, attached and/or gay. Unfortunately for me (but fortunately for the rest of the female population), S is none of these things.

So to prevent any further line blurring, could I request that S either get a girlfriend, have an unfortunate scarring skin disorder, or find a lovely man. Not too much to ask for my future sanity and the preservation of a great friend is it?

Suspicious character

There are people who give one cause for alarm. There is the person that passes you, and makes you grasp the handbag a little closer, or veer to avoid even passing near their personal body space. Then there are the people that you don't even notice that are there. They fade so inconsequentially into the background that there presence causes nary a ripple in the ether.

I think that I am neither of these types of people. I can be loud and annoying enough to always assert my presence, but at the same time, appear harmless enough to not cause concern. I possess neither great beauty nor malformation to draw any particular attention to myself.

So it was with some surprise that when I was lining up in a national department chain store over the weekend at the checkout, I was taken aback by the actions of the woman in front of me. As she was completing her purchases, she hugged the keypad to her, shrouding it with her body, to prevent anyone from sneaking a look at her PIN as she entered it.

Her paranoia was cute - I felt powerful and a little scary for a very brief second!

Adequate.... just.

I had the misfortune of spending an afternoon surrounded by accountants.

What... you want more than that?

OK OK. Despite the, so far, delightful Taxman of Miss Pear, accountants are a breed of person that most can do without - myself included. Do my tax for me - but then very kindly go away and back to the hole you crawled out of. Following my annual work Performance Appraisal, our business manager (a.k.a. accountant with an ego) supplied me with information on a few Personal Development courses that were being run through the CPA (a.k.a. geek organisation for accountants). In the interest of both feigning some interest in personal development, and keeping my job, I signed up for a couple of these classes.

This afternoon's topic was Strategies in Time Management. I will not bore you with any of the gruesome details. Suffice to say that there goes three hours that I will never get back again. But I digress.

As part of the session, the speaker asked us to score (out of 10) many aspects of our lives (eg emotional, career, financial, fitness, education). In addition, she asked us to write a short sentence about each of these areas. I think I wrote something inane like, "Fitness: Not at my ideal physical fitness". After a few minutes of this, I completed my comments and scores, and stared around the room disinterestedly, when my eye happened to rest upon the comment that the gentleman beside me had put beside his emotional state.

He wrote quite simply, "Emotional: Content with wife".

There is no way that I cannot find his comment insensitive, and insulting to his (hopefully) beloved bride. Then again, I am an overtly emotional creature and have trouble coping if there are not daily protestations of love and emotion.

So, tell me... am I being too hard on this fellow? Or, does his being an accountant put me off the hook this time?

Decisions decisions...

While I was away over the weekend, I had the great pleasure to catch up with friends and family. Any trip home is always a compromise with whom I can fit in on each particular trip, and who is available. This time I kept the list limited, which afforded me the opportunity to do some real catching up with some friends whom I don't see half as often as I would like.

After we enjoyed some take-away dinner, we sat around watching some television and chatting about all manner of things. During this time, B rang and I explained my current location. My friends television is in their bedroom. So there we were, A to my right, R to my left (with their new child in her arms) and at our feet, two of their cats.

Trying to explain this scenario to B proved a little awkward - how do you explain the intimacy with these people, who have been a part of my life for over 12 years, to someone who has only been around for just over 3 months. These are people who have opened their hearts and home to me on more than one occasion, and who have unconditionally loved me through good and bad. Recently, they have even offered me their "spare" embryos - these are not the sort of people that come along everyday. Nevertheless, B just nodded (or at least that is the way it seemed over the phone!) and I think realised just one more way in which I am different from what he expects.

On a side note, my trip home clarified some personal direction for me, with some help from R. Needless to say, I have made a deeply personal decision in my life, which should keep me on more of an emotionally even keel. It involves a clock, and its not so inevitable ticking. Yippee to me for finally doing something positive in my life!

The turning point

There is a turning point in any relationship where airport drop-offs/pick-ups become de rigeur. L7 and I have an understanding that we will pick up and drop each other off, when available, no matter the time or day. She thinks she is still deserving of many favours after a pick-up I required at around 5am one morning. Nevertheless, the pick-up/drop-off is an integral part of the turning point in the romantic liaison.

I flew to see friends and family on the weekend in my home-town of Brisbane, or Bris-Vegas as it is more affectionately known. I had not organised my drop-off with the ever-faithful L7, as I was hoping that things with B were now at a point where he would offer. By now, I should realise that men, cute as they are, are more than a little stupid on occasion. No subtlety here - brute force is required. So on Friday night, I mentioned my plans for Saturday which included "finding some way out to the airport". He responded with, "I thought S was taking you?", to which I quickly replied, "oh, no!". He then offered to take me to the airport quite happily. The heart skipped a beat, knowing that this must mean a new phase of relationship.

I am happy to report that not only did he take me to the airport. But, he parked the car, walked me to the check-in desk, stood in line with me at the desk, and then waited to wave me off whilst I went through security.



I will own that I am a sap and easily pleased. Complaints line can start to my left.

How well calibrated is your Gay-dar?

S was telling me on the weekend about an article he had read recently about the top three signs that a man is gay. These three signs, and in no particular order, are;

(i) Drives a car that can be categorised as a "girly-hatch-back thing"
(ii) Has no interest in football (which for a Victorian is a religion)
and
(iii) Does not like beer

If these are the only things that define the "gay-ness" of a man, apparently S is currently pursuing the wrong sex! He would obviously make some man a lovely wife one day.

This has put me in mind of a question posed to me many years ago by a friend of mine. At that time he was having no success dating, and surmised a reason for this. He felt that maybe he was in fact gay. Given that it was a consideration of some import, I did not immediately laugh as was my natural reaction.

I waited a few seconds and then laughed.

To be fair, I then proceeded to take his hypothesis seriously. I asked a fairly fundamental question, considering he was talking about shifting his theretofore concrete sexual allegiance. I asked, "Well, do you find men attractive?" To which he answered a firm, "No". Ok. Strike 1. I began to wonder why we were having this conversation. But, I was a good friend, and decided to try another approach.

"Well, have you met some gentleman with whom you get on fabulously and think that maybe there is something there more than just a friendship?"

Again, "No" was the response. Strike 2.

Then an idea hit me, so I jumped in and asked, "Are you thinking you are gay because none of the women whom you like seem to like you back?". Silence and then a sheepish, "Yes". Strike 3. So my friend had begun to convince himself that because no women at that point reciprocated his affections, then he was targeting the wrong market.

It was an idea that I had never thought about before. I can't say that the concept of being dateless on a Saturday night, has ever had me eyeing off my girlfriends in a whole new light..... but then again, some of them are awfully lovely ladies......

L7 berated me last night. I am apparently a failure to both my generation and my gender. I inadvertently revealed that I am not watching the current, and final, series of Sex and the City, and am not waiting with baited breath over Carrie's current relationship status with Big.

I figured that living the life was enough for me without having to re-experience it with bad advertisements every Monday night.

Did you get the memo?

Have you ever noticed the number of rules that we abide by without even thinking about it? There is the unspoken distance between you and the person in front of you at the ATM. The compulsory 'wave' when a car lets you in. The acknowledgement of the queue that has formed at the deli counter and knowing what order you are in that queue. The compulsory "Good, thanks" response when a sales assistant blankly asks you, "How are you today?". There are myriad of such things that we often take for granted.

Yesterday I went for a walk around Princes Park. Apparently, there is some sort of understood knowledge that one walks anti-clockwise around the park. I realised this of course only when I noticed that EVERYONE was walking towards me all the time. I started to feel none to self-conscious - especially when I realised that everyone coming for miles could see me huffing and dragging my very sorry arse around. Also, it also appeared that it was a given that all women would not only be thin, wearing 1970's style running shorts, but also full make-up. Next thing you know, leg-warmers will be compulsory wear. I am so out of fitness fashion!

Careers that I shall not undertake...

Following some rather stupid actions of mine where I used the words "commitment" and "future" to B, I again sought the solace of the incomparable S. As ever, his advice was appropriate and he proved himself yet again eerily savvy with what is really going on in my head. So after the tears were wiped away, and some composure was regained I experienced a brief moment of clarity.

I realised that I shall never be a draftsman/architect - because I have no sense of perspective!

Be all you can be - without breaking your neck that is!

I recently happened upon a blog which piqued my interest. Not so much a journal or even a catalogue of events, but an interesting collection of that is happening in one little part of the world of Physics.

Yeah, ok, I am a little geeky on occasion.

Looking through the entries, I skipped past the entries about Laser Interferometry (yawn!), the super-nerdy Physics Olympics (I do NOT want to imagine physicists in tight lycra running shorts) and the article from the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. No, I skipped down to the article which of course which would capture my interest. A little article on how high a heel can be to be safely worn.

I wear high-heels ALL the time. This has proved to be a bone of contention with more than one walking partner. Adding into this equation is my less than statuesque height. Short legs, high heels - all adds up to a compromised walking pace. A price I am more than eager to make.

So back to the article. It takes into account a number of variables including; shoe size, price of shoe, amount of alcohol consumed, and the chance of "pulling". It would appear that I can wear a maximum height of 9.6cm. On a quick inventory of my shoes, I have work shoes that are 6.5cm high, and my highest "pick-up" shoes are a paltry 8.5cm high.

It would appear I am not living up to all I can be! So excuse me whilst I go shopping.