You just can't take some people anywhere
I am about to relate a story that happened to Subtle and I on Tuesday night, and I will admit to actually being a little embarrassed by it. I don't get embarrassed as a general rule. Many have tried to embarrass me, and have failed. There are a few who have made me blush (yes, Subtle, you are one), and even those instances are very rare.

A little while ago, I decided that Subtle and I should go on a "date". You know, dress up, go somewhere really nice and have a nice dinner. Of course, in the interim, a few other events came up, and it ended up being another dinner in a week of glamorous and yummy dinners. But this was a dinner with just the two of us. So, sort of romantic. Sort of nice.

I picked out a restaurant that sounded fabulous, and made a booking. When we arrived on the night, the place was suitably busy and the decor and atmosphere drew me in straightaway. We were seated and began perusing the menu. Now, unfortunately for us, we were both quite hungry and had a later booking than I would have preferred. We immediately got down to business and ordered drinks and food. We were not sure as to the time frame that our meal would take, and as often happens in busy restaurants, were worried about some significant time.

We took a look to the table to my left and found that it was being exited by a large group of people. They had clearly had a banquet type of meal, the serving plates still there, and there was still untouched food on the platters. As they left, I looked at the untouched food (some dolmade type food if you must know) and looked at Subtle and salivated. I commented, "You know, it is just sitting there and noone would know if we snuck a bit of that completely untouched food!". To this Subtle responded with, "You know I am not going to stop you, and they are just going to throw it out!".

With logic like that, I was gone. I swooped into action, and deftly removed two darling dolmades and slipped then onto our plates. They were divine. The plan was complete, and we were up one little dolmade and I had saved the world from more wasted food.

Except.

Except as I had a piece of this delightful morsel half chewed in my mouth, our waiter took that exact moment to return to our table and enquire as to whether we had any dietary requirements the chef should be aware of. How does one not look sheepish and admit to no requirements? Clearly we are the worst sort of scabs stealing food from other tables!

The meal was wonderful and our waiters all in attendance appropriately. At the end of the night when the bill was presented, I added on a "generous" tip. Subtle spied the tip amount and commented, "Are you sure the service was worth that much?". Probably not, but my guilt comes at a high cost.

Questions of Etiquette

I have a regular pubic groomer. Getting someone who is not too chatty and not too half-witted to talk to whilst tending to my nether regions is something that has been an issue for me. Similar to the issue of getting a hairdresser one is comfortable with, the pubic hairdresser has a generally unpleasant task and is someone that you want to trust. Not being same sex inclined, it is also a matter of some delicacy in having some female looking intently, in bright lights, at my mons pubis.

But thankfully, my groomer is lovely. Appropriately chatty, not too young to make me feel old, not too thin or beautiful to make me feel inadequate, and certainly brisk and efficient at her job making the whole process pass by as painlessly as possible.

But I have one issue. Only one single, little tiny issue. I have no idea of her name. She doesn't wear a name badge. The salon is small, and generally she is the only one working during the week when I attend. So I can't turn up and have someone say, "Hello, will be with you in a moment!". After seeing her now for many months, how does one just say, "By the way, I know you are intimate with my Labia, but what is your name?". I just can't do it. So I think, in my head, I will just have to call her Mulva. Or Dolores.

Just a short one...

Tomorrow is the day. Subtle and I are heading up the aisle and starting marital bliss. The last day or so have seen me a little stressed cooking the wedding cake, meeting the family matriarch and god knows what million other little things that need to be done. Though things are not always perfect with Subtle and I (and anybody who professes to a perfect relationship is deluded!), through it all he and I have tried to keep focused on what is important and to filter out the shit that comes along. We look forward to being able to affirm our love in public and make a commitment to each other. I have seen some rocky times in my love life, but Subtle has provided the most wonderful, grounding, secure and loving relationship that I have ever had. The ceremony, reception and honeymoon await, after which we return as Mr and Mrs Subtle.

Cause you gave me the best mixtape I have,
And even all the sad songs ain't so sad

Sometimes I pine for the simple days of youth. I don't pine for the teen angst, mind you. Such angst which leaves a young girl feeling doubt over herself, and reduces her mother to sending her a Valentine's Card. Oh, yeah, they were happy days. But simpler days when you couldn't be contacted all the time, and times when not every thought you had in your head wasn't worthy of publishing to the world (Yes, Twitter, I am looking at you!). Times when "stealing" music meant you had pocketed a cassingle at Target, or taped a song off the radio. Innocent times when one passed notes in class, and looked up dirty words in the dictionary.

I remember fondly one romantic gesture of my youth which I fear has gone all fancy and high-tech these days, and that is the mixtape. My first mixtape I received was from a boy who had a long standing crush on me. Like Nick Hornby's analysis, this young gent had put great thought and skill into the tape. Timings, songs, delicate use of the "Pause" button and careful selection of music to convey the right message, and keep the listener engaged. Over 20 years has passed since this tape was made for me, and sadly the only song I can remember on it was "Reet Petite". For those not old enough to know this treasure of a tune, it features the following phrase,

Well, she's so fine, fine fine, She's so fine fine
She's so fine, She's so fine, fine, fine
She's really sweet, the finest girl you ever wanna meet

Oh yes. He was madly in love with me.

The next mixtape I received was actually on my wedding day from my (now, ex) husband. He had secreted himself home everyday and worked on it before I got in. Doing a song or so a day until the happy day of our nuptials and then presented to our driver to play in the car that was chauffeuring me to the wedding. I turned up at the church with the blaring of "We're going to the chapel", which was amazingly heard from inside the church over the revving of the historic car's V12 engine.

I think I have always been a sucker for things like mixtapes, or at the very least, knowing that there are songs that make someone special think of you. Of course, these days, a mixtape is done on a CD with fancy mixing and things downloaded easily from the web. Seems like cheating. Where is the finesse in compiling a songlist in iTunes and pressing the Burn button? Where are the simple romantic gestures of yesteryear?

For the wont of something to write about

I think I have run out of things to say. I frequently feel guilt about not being a regular blogger anymore, and constantly try and think of things that might make good blog fodder. But inspiration seems to be running dry these days. Wedding plans are not the most interesting thing for me to write about. We have a date, venue, dress, honeymoon and invitations. A few more things to organise, but really, it is all starting to fall into place. A few frustrations and stresses in the house, but nothing that is particularly strange or spectacular considering the events unfolding in the months ahead.

I think I may have become boring.

No longer do I have tales of scandalous dates to tell, or emotional highs or lows to relive. I have found happiness and contentment and security. Those things are not the stuff of great writing. At least for me anyway! Makes me almost consider going off the anti-depressants so I can have a bit of roller-coasting emotional fun back in my life. Almost. That statement should get a good reaction out of Subtle!

The most outrageous thing to happen recently involved my night-time face cream. We were preparing for slumber the other evening - brushing teeth, removing makeup, that sort of thing, when I squirted out my moisturiser to apply my nightly attempt at youth maintenance. It proceeded to splurt over part of my hand, the sink and some of the splashback. And at that moment, I fell about laughing.

It looked precisely like cum.

Subtle almost choked on his toothbrush when I made this statement. So here we are three months from our wedding, when I am considering what vows I should write, and I am reduced to the wit of semen jokes.

Learning Curve

Every day with Subtle is a learning process. Our relationship has been a process of learning how men think (apparently they do!) and learning about my reactions. Three years of therapy later and I am learning, albeit slowly, about how I function in relationships, both romantic and otherwise. The relationship with my mother, for example, is one that is often examined in therapy. Perhaps it would be easier if we shared less genes and she was less insane. But I digress.

So Subtle are learning from each other. I am attempting to have him learn how to make a bed correctly and fold towels in the way in which I prefer them. He has successfully learnt to make me cups of tea when required, and now knows the correct parsley to buy when I ask him too.

But what have I learnt from Subtle? I have learnt two things most importantly. I have learnt that when preparing a shopping list for him, I must include absolutely everything: brand, size, colour. Despite the fact that 99% of the time he comes with me when getting groceries, he apparently has not noticed ANY of the brands etc that we buy EVERY week. The second thing I have learned from him will be invaluable for the rest of my life. To quote from Subtle:" Loosy Lefty, Tighty Righty".

The man is a wealth of knowledge.

Ahem, is the microphone on.... I have a little something to announce

Readers of this blog may be familiar with my somewhat chequered history with men and relationships. The only consistent thing in all my failed attempts was, as my mother keenly points out, is me. But after three years in therapy, and five years of blogging about it all, things seem to have fallen nicely into place. I met Subtle through this blog - for some reason, perhaps as a result of his own unhappy circumstances at the time - about three years ago he started reading the ravings of this woman. Apparently he found it interesting, and maybe a little escapist from his own trials, to read about those of someone else. No matter what the reason, he read and liked what he read. After some time he began to comment and then after even more time, we met. Engaging and sweet at the start, and a great friend to have on the other end of the inter-webs.

The emails, turned into phone calls and messaging throughout the day. Before I knew it, I found I got to work in the morning just wanting to get online to tell him what was going on. I knew something was afoot when Kate was visiting on her annual Gastro-Porn tour* and I just had to have her meet Subtle. Within weeks of introducing Kate to Subtle, my friendship with him turned to romance - with the aid of some very fine red wine. And in time the romance has turned into something very wonderful.

Very soon we were living together and sharing every day with each other. And now it has changed yet again. I am happy to announce our engagement. You know, for like marriage and stuff. It seems natural in so many ways, but still clearly wows me. The fact that I woke up at sparrow fart this morning considering wedding "things" shows that this whole thing has taken me for a spin. I am sure before long I will be bandying about the terms like "fiance" and so forth with aplomb. But for now, even thinking it gives me a little giggle inside and a huge case of the "Oh My God's!!!!".


*Known to most people as the "Good Food and Wine Show".

Special dates

Today marks a special occasion. My blogiversary. This day five years ago, I put finger to keyboard and began this blog. I was inspired to start the blog because of Miss Pear, whose former blog has now gone on hiatus. I think I felt I just needed somewhere to write things down. Over many years I have "journaled", although not with any great commitment, and whenever I travelled, I have attempted to write down my escapades.

I don't know what my original plan was in starting a blog. My therapist has discussed my blog at length, although she has never read it, and ponders my need to discuss my life with the world. I don't really know what I wanted to do or prove with this. But, here it is, five years on, still going and I find myself still looking to it for comfort and solace, and some sort of unloading place. There have been times when the blog is the only place that I have been able to truly express how I feel about something. And in the expressing, feel better for it.

Don't suppose for a moment that the blog has been all candy canes and puppy dogs. There are moments when it has been "discovered" and caused me some grief. At those times I have questioned my motives, and pondered whether I should shut it down. Strangely, the blog has won out above all. I think I always came to the conclusion that this blog hurts noone, and is a part of me.

I have always endeavoured on here to be true to myself, and indeed true to whomever reads it. To preserve some sort of privacy, I have used "part" anonymity for myself (although those people who know me in the real world are a different case), and anonymity for all those I mention who don't wish their lives to be public.

For a long time, my blog was a sort of bug-bear with relationships. I felt the need to keep it from many I may have dated, probably as a means of preserving some part of myself and also for fear of what they might think. There have been men who I have seen, who read the blog, either whilst with me, or after we parted ways. And the result was always a negative. Either to me or them. Until Subtle.

Subtle has been reading my blog for well over two years before we ever met face to face. In meeting him, as in meetings I have had with other people via my blog (yes, Kiki that includes you!), was a little awkward. Here is someone who knows an awful lot about me. They have no reference or knowledge of my life except via what I have chosen to edit to the world. But, in a way, meeting someone who knows some of the worst, and best, bits of your life and is still intrigued or interested in you - well, it is pretty special. To be accepted by people is always a pretty nice thing. And then, for Subtle to continue to get to know me - knowing that our lives would end up on here for public scrutiny - has been even more amazing.

I suppose I regard this blog as part of my therapy, and part my life. Five years is a long time and anyone who has been reading along with me for all, or any of this time, I thank you. All comments are always read and appreciated, and I always wonder about the people who stop by and look into this little portal of my life. Sometimes, when one is down and lonely, these virtual friends via here have been a lifeline.

I wonder whether sometimes it is time to say goodbye to blogging. But I don't think so for me just yet. So I will beg your patience with me a little while longer and invite you to share the journey of my life here for a bit more.

Thanks for a great five years!

In the absence of anything interesting to write...

I made a statement yesterday to Subtle that it seems like my life is very unbloggable at the moment. He took this as a bad thing. But it isn't necesssarily so.

In times gone by, well, really since the inception of this blog, it seems that what makes good blog fodder is drama and emotion. And when I say good blog fodder, I mean for both the reader and me as the writer. My life was always full of dramatic ups and downs - rather in the way of a person with bi-polar (now that is concerning to note isn't it?). Bond used to say was that I thrived on drama - although I still stand by the fact that life while having him in my life, things would have been greatly enhanced by the injection of him telling some truths.... but I digress.

But with Subtle, there is no drama. Well, a lot less anyway. This is, after all, still me. After the (slight) drama of me being gone for seven weeks of our relationship so far, Subtle moved in, virtually the moment I got home from Russia. We have easily fallen into a state of domesticity which sounds a little tedious to some perhaps. The drama in my life is (mostly) limited to that performed on the stage or inflicted upon me at work. Our relationship is so full of love, respect and security that drama has taken itself on a long walk away from me.

So here I am... with nothing interesting to blog about. Doesn't it seem dull to say, "Life is wonderful - I have a fantastic relationship with a lovely man who supports and loves me - Work is fine - Isabella is gorgeous....."? Why should it seem dull to have a life full of positives at the moment? Or I could just say, Fuck it, I am happy.. deal with it!

So, be prepared for less salacious blog entries and more examinings of minutiae of everyday life until some new drama befalls me*!





*Fingers crossed for no dramas.....

A Return Appearance by a Long Overdue Special Guest

Well it seems that Subtle is nearly all moved in. The crap in my house, which was always quite significant, has increased substantially to now include even more books and DVDs (I didn't think that possible!), quite a lot more in the way of computers, some furniture and various other boy-related things I haven't had around my home in a long while. But it seems that with the now established relationship and partner*, another person has moved back into my life.

Many years ago when I was married, I acquired a nickname from some friends. It appeared I was, for all intents and purposes, "the world's second best wife". Second best you say? Well the role of world's best wife was taken already by another friend. She also cooked amazing gourmet meals every night, sewed and crafted, kept a wonderful home, worked full time and entertained dinner parties for hordes. Her and I were level pegging there. But she also raised two kids, and repeatedly accepted her philandering husband back into her life. So, I really couldn't compare and hence was relegated to the role of second best wife. There might be some that wouldn't say second best wife, more likely, second most stupid. But I was very happy.

So the other evening, I was hands deep in preparing some appetisers and desserts for Subtle's birthday get-together when the friend that appointed me with my nickname rang for a chat. I explained what I was cooking and doing, and he declared, "Has the world's second best wife come back again?". I laughed. Apparently, when I wasn't looking, she moved back in. And strangely, I really don't mind. I actually feel happiest when planning cooking, preparing and entertaining - especially when I get to do it for someone I care about.

And Subtle's reaction to this title? "I don't know about the wife-bit, but you are definitely the world's best girlfriend."

Awwww.



*I really hate saying that word - it sort of feels contrived or weird. Subtle is a great fan of being simple - it is girlfriend or boyfriend. End of story until another title comes along (aka wife, husband). I am inclined to agree.