Maneater - apparently.

Men. They are curious creatures are they not? Text messaging continued from Mr Highway Married Man, so much so, that we met up face to face for coffee. My, he is cute. And delightfully conversant. I concentrated on keeping my conversation clean and non-sexual, knowing full well that he is married, and not wanting to project a "come fuck me" impression.

Clearly, this is mere folly on my behalf. As one of my workmates commented, "Look at you - you just project sex!". Apparently I can do this over the phone, while talking about fixing X-ray machines. Go figure - my talents are far and wide-reaching!

He messaged me alluding to a few sordid details, and I finally decided I had to make a stand. Months of therapy is getting me nowhere unless I make steps toward not allowing bad men in my life. So I messaged back telling him in no uncertain terms that although I found him attractive, while he was married, I would not ever sleep with him. I went on to say that I do not want to be the other woman, as any man who has me in their life, certainly does not need anyone else! I also said that he should question his home life and just why he was seeking satisfaction elsewhere. Apparently this responsse shocked him. He said, and I quote, that he thought I was "just after a good time and not a partner".

Again - where in a conversation about electrical equipment and his soccer injuries did I subliminally convey that I was a good-time girl? Whilst looking for praise for making such a strong move, there are friends of mine who just can't understand why I just didn't shag him, since I am so clearly up for it!?!

Things are never easy in my life!

Back... with a vengeance!

Apparently some people have been waiting on reports of my health retreat and how things are in my world of late. So, I am back to report on things.

The health retreat was absolutely and singularly the best money I have spent on myself. Ever. Yes, we did get up obscenely early and do Tai Chi. Yes, it was caffeine, alcohol, sugar, red-meat free. But every part of the experience was life-affirming for me, and every person there instilled positive energy in you and made you feel as special as we SHOULD FEEL EVERY DAY. So, I am still caffeine free, and feeling an immense sense of calm.

I do still get melancholic and upset about Bond. I miss him. I miss things he would say to me. I miss his voice. But I am doing my best to push those thoughts away. I keep reminding myself that he dumped me - and what a huge loss that is! I don't necessarily always feel confident and self-assured, but I do recognise that in many ways, I am a catch. An unabashed, hot-to-trot, catch.

Now that I have been a little touchy feely, I suppose people want the real gossip.

I had a date and I did not sleep with him. Despite being sorely tempted! I achieved this by two simple means. Firstly, I remembered the time and money I have spent on my therapist who has expressed, in no uncertain terms, that it would not be in my best interests to sleep with him at this point. I know that I like him, and I would like him to like me. I fear that he is really only after a shag, and therefore, will just hurt my mental state by me projecting some sort of relationship onto him, when really, he might just want to add notches to his bed-post. Secondly, I didn't have a bikini wax. I know that very few things will get in the way of me when I want a shag - and an hirsute muff is one of them.

Other gossip just in. I was driving to Ballarat this morning, as is my want, and spied a cute boy in the next lane. I looked and smiled. He looked, and reciprocated the smile. Now it just so happens that he was a "tradesperson" of some sort, with his mobile phone number prominently displayed on his vehicle. So I called him. He has now been messaging me all day. And yes, apparently, he is married. Doesn't mean he hasn't asked to catch up with me does it!?! Men.

Onward and upward people!

Healing heartbreak

Posts are slow in coming at the moment - for obvious reasons I suppose. I don't want every post to be something bitter and twisted and melancholic. And I can't fake exuberance and joie de vivre.

At my suggestion, and my therapist's insistence, I am off next week to The Golden Door, a health retreat, located in the Gold Coast Hinterlands. It is to be a week of vegetarian food, no caffeine, no alcohol, full exercise, hell. I do question my sanity for choosing such a break from work, but I hear so many good things about it, and I know that being removed from my normal routine is an enticing prospect. They run classes to help with nutrition, exercise, and also a few sessions on working on my inner self as well. Needless to say, it is to be a busy week, but will hopefully help put me on a fresh approach to my life.

Feeling as I do of late, men are somewhat down my list of priorities (although, truth be told, I could honestly go a shag - actually a LOT of a shag). I have re-initiated some flirtatious contact with a boy. Meeting him, and the ensuing details, were never written about here, but perhaps in time I might divulge. I do hope to catch up with him over this weekend, but am determined NOT TO SLEEP WITH HIM. All of you with my mobile number - feel free to text me and remind me of my vow against sex with him!

Now of course the whole purpose of this trip is to get away from men, and get in touch with myself (and not in the naughty way). So, you can possibly imagine my reaction when one girlfriend, when briefed on my up-coming trip, declared, "That sounds great - and you never know who you might meet!".

Not fucking likely.

Doors close.

So. It's time I tried to get something out and online. Tonight I went and saw a movie, "Miss Potter" for those who need to know, and I enjoyed it. It made me cry, which is pretty easy these days. But perhaps, it gave me just a small kernel of hope.

On Saturday I got a phone call from Bond. "The" phone call in fact. To say I was shocked underestimates it by an order of magnitude or ten. Once again I felt that ache deep in the pit of my stomach, and that odd sensation of all of your insides falling away at the same time. I screamed and I cried. And the whole while, he was calm and matter of fact. He was matter of fact as he reeled off his reasons for never coming here to see me. He was also very matter of fact as he stated his complete lack of emotion for me. He then went on, in quite a calm way to tell me a few "truths". Things that I thought I knew, but in fact were lies. Many month old lies.

For so long I had been paranoid about things between us. In fact, I mentioned a little while ago to him that things seemed "odd" between us, and only a week ago I may have accused him of "stringing me along". But always, he assured me all was ok, and that I had nothing to worry about. It seems my sixth sense is quite well tuned - but I insisted on ignoring it. Clearly my increasingly dark entries on here, are testament to that fact.

He said that I didn't love him, because I couldn't. I apparently loved something, but it wasn't him. And he certainly had never told me he loved me. A fact that he repeated while telling me he was returning to someone in his life, that I never, for one moment, suspected. I trusted him. I trusted him more than I have ever trusted any man in my life. I always felt assured that he would never cheat on me, as I wouldn't on him. I felt uncertainty about our relationship because of other factors, but never due to jealousy. This is a far cry from my former life, where I was jealous of every woman in the world. I was proud of the way that I never second-guessed his associations with other women. He was mine. There was no doubt.

But he wasn't. And I don't know if he ever was. I can look over text messages he sent, and conversations we had online, and see that he honestly seemed to be feeling something. And I know, it couldn't have all been a lie. No matter what the excuses, here I am now, heart-broken, knowing that whatever it was, it was nothing to him. It seemed to be attention from me he wanted, and perhaps that got too tedious. It seemed that he preferred a person whom I thought he disliked, to me.

I feel like a fool. The fool who believed in a long-distance love that could survive all trials. The fool who believed what she was told, perhaps because her heart wanted to believe. I am the fool, who proudly spoke of her amazing boyfriend in foreign lands who would ring her daily, and say that he missed her and wanted to feel her against him. I am also the fool, who began contemplating what I would do, should this continue. Reading up on how to get a working Visa, and just what one has to consider when moving around the globe. Looking at jobs available, and potential incomes. Contemplating what I would do with imnvestments and property in this country. Yes, maybe my planning got ahead of reality. But after many, many months of daily phone calls, and conversations that alluded to all sorts of a potential future, it didn't seem like it was out of the realms of possibility to be considering such things. I am a planner. I like to organise. But all my planning was for nought.

The joke, and not a funny one at that, was on me. But what was my crime? I fell for a man who embodied so much that I admired. He was a man that made me feel sexy and smart, and forced me to live up to the abilities that I sometimes doubt I have. He was enticing and intelligent, and so many things that I am not, but want in a partner. He was different to me in so many obvious ways, but strangely, seemed to feel so right. Corny as it might sound, but he felt like the complement to me.

I know I will survive this. I have survived worse, and at least now I have medication and a therapist on hand. But, sometimes you just don't want to HAVE to survive it. Living through the pain and hurt, and the distrust of people, and having to start it all over again is too tiring. I don't want to hear empty platitudes from well-meaning people. There isn't necessarily someone out there for me. Yes, yes, I know I am strong and I will get through this. And yes, maybe he wasn't good enough for me. All these and more I have heard, and know I will hear repeatedly. But none of them quite ring true yet.

Beatrix Potter decided at the age of 20 that she would never marry. She lost her loving fiance at age 32 after a relatively whirlwind romance. And then finally married at the age of 40. My life has never been a fairy-tale, and with 36 only days away, maybe there is no prince out there for me. But I don't want to give up, because I know that I have so much love to give someone, should they give me the chance. I want to believe that like Beatrix Potter, who despaired of love, and then made a happy life regardless, that I can have a content life, and love will come.

I am blessed that when I broke news of my latest heartbreak, friends rang with their words of love. After months and months of wanting love from Bond, here I had friends around me, all telling me how much they loved me and were there for me. I know that it almost seems selfish to desire such wonderful and loving friends, and also the love of one person of my own. But I can't help but want it all. I have never really felt that anything I have achieved is that special, since I always assumed that I could do much of what I wanted - if I really wanted it. And yet, I really want this, and it continues to elude me.

This week has not been my most glamorous. I have worn no makeup - it feels like too much effort to put it on - and for what purpose? No high heels - why bother? My house is a sty, and my life feels like it is just lurching along at the moment. I am allowing myself to be sad for a while, because I know me, and I know that only too soon I will begin to search again for somebody to love me.

But I wish I could see life differently. I wish I could simply enjoy each day, and see beauty in simple things. I wish I could want to live this life for the treasure that it is, and not feel that it is a struggle. I wish that I could be happy easily, and that my heart could be allowed to soar. I wish.