Miss Cherry Red

Motherhood. Love. Life. And everything in between

Until recently, I had three rules that anyone who wanted to have the pleasure of my company for the long term was expected to keep:

  • Don’t lie
  • Don’t cheat
  • Don’t hit me

Basic, simple, standard stuff.

Rules that you shouldn’t really have to remind people to follow because, lets be honest, they shouldn’t be dicks.

Those rules have done me well…. that was, until I went out with M at the beginning of this year.

M had real potential.

He had a good job, owned his own home, had no crazy ex on the scene and more importantly had the kind of sense of humour that didn’t just make me chuckle, it made me belly laugh.

M and I spent the best part of a month chatting online before I took the plunge and gave him my mobile number which came with the obvious caveat of ‘no dick pics please’ and ‘don’t drunk text me’.  We spent another few weeks texting and chatting on the phone before we set the date.

We decided to meet for a late lunch at 3:30pm.  He lived in Thatcham and I’m in Wantage – as the venue was ladies choice I decided to pick a pub that’s run by a very good friend of mine mid way between us.  Plus I figured I’d be close to a friendly face if things went tits up.

Sometimes my subconscious is on fire!

Date Day arrived and shortly after midday I got a text from M to say he was at the pub.  I explained that I wasn’t ready with some things to finish off and that I was still planning on getting there for 3:30 – I politely suggested perhaps he might like to head home and go back later but he insisted on waiting and watching the rugby… he said it’d be fine.

It wasn’t.

By the time I arrived M was as pissed as a newt.  He could just about walk to the bar and gleefully admitted he was on pint number 6.  Excellent.

I should have turned round and run for the fucking hills left but I put the overindulgence down to nerves: he’d been married for quite a long time, separated about 18 months and hadn’t really been out with anyone in that time so figured I’d give him the benefit of the doubt!

I’d arranged for us to have a table away from the main bar where we could sit and talk and get to know each other.  That’s what I’d planned on doing.

Not M though…

With food ordered (mine, not his… he declared that ‘eating’s cheating’ and ordered wine) I nipped to the loo quickly to find a window to jump out of to give myself a pep talk but on my return I found M sat with 6 strangers.  Men who’d come to the pub to watch the rugby and who were now, it would seem, sat with us on one big table!

Things really started to unravel when one of the guys – Russ – leaned over to me and said “I think you’re really brave”.  What? Brave? For what I wondered?  Not. A. Clue what he was on about.  Confused, I looked at M who whispered “check your phone”.  While I’d been away, M had taken the liberty of fabricating a whole new backstory for us and had regaled his new friends with tales that I was his probation officer and that against all advice we’d embarked on a love affair.

I was quick to put Russ right much to M’s disappointment.

I know.  I know.  Fucking weirdo.

By the end of the game M had lost all ability to walk or stand upright but he did retain his faculties enough to declare how much he cared about me and how he really wanted to see me again and began pushing for a second date.

Now, in my head I’m screaming ‘you’re having a fucking laugh sunshine, I can’t believe I stayed on this one let alone go for another!’ but opted instead to say that it wasn’t going to work and that perhaps things would be best left and said we’ll call it a day.

Judging by the reaction I may as well have told him his house had been burned to the ground and his dog was dead.  He was raging.

Giving him time to calm down I retreated back to the loo and told my friend I’d be back in a moment.  When I came out, M was waiting for me.  He’d calmed down and opted to change tact – he’d decided that the only way to change my mind and for me to see what a catch he really was, was to for me to kiss him.

Fuck that.

I declined.  Politely (at first).

His ‘request’ was a more forceful second time round and came with him grabbing my wrists and trying to shove his tongue down my throat. Grim.

I said no again and to emphasise my point I shoved my knee between his legs.  He soon moved.

Upset and angry he told me that if he’d known I was going to be a ‘pissy bitch’ he wouldn’t have stayed.  Charming.

With that he grabbed his coat and stormed out.

I returned to my table and ordered a bottle of wine with my friend where we sat and read, with equal parts horror and amusement, the flurry of messages he sent me from his cab telling me I was a disgrace, I was a tease, how he cared about me and I just ripped his heart out…. blah, blah, blah

I never heard from him again.

So now I have four rules:

  • Don’t lie
  • Don’t cheat
  • Don’t hit me
  • Don’t get pissed on your first date

Categories: love

The Girl and I have just celebrated living in our house for a year.

One. Whole. Year.

I can’t believe how quickly 12 months have gone and I’m even more surprised at just how far I’ve come in that time.

I mean, my last post on here was July 2013 and reading it back makes me sad and if I’m being a truthful – a little mad.

Mad at myself for not seeing what I had right in front of me and for allowing how miserable I felt to consume what should have been a wonderful occasion for The Girl – she was so excited to have a new house, a new room, 2 new kittens and a garden – something she’d never had before and I let my overriding negativity tarnish that a little for her.

Moving here was a fresh start for the both of us and in hindsight I wished I’d allowed myself to see that moment in all it’s beauty.

But, hindsight is a wonderful thing.

I think about then and now and ask myself “am I still lonely?” and truthfully, yes, sometimes I am, but do I allow that feeling of being single and on my own define who I am, no I do not.

Do I still cry when The Girl goes to bed?  No.  I don’t. In fact, I couldn’t tell you the last time I cried until my eyes stung and I never thought I’d get there.

I look at how different things are for me now and I give myself a tiny high five for achieving it.  I mean, I have my own home, my own mortgage, my own car and my own money and do you know what, I’m doing alright.

But more than that, I have The Girl.

I have a daughter who is growing up to be exactly the person I’d hoped – she’s beautiful, she’s polite, she’s kind and well behaved.

She makes me smile and laugh every single day and she makes me feel happy right to my very core.

She’s my wing woman and for as long as we’ve got each other, I think we’ll do just fine.

Categories: life

The past few months have been the darkest I’ve known and I was really hoping that The Girl and I moving into our new house would give me the closure on that chapter of my life that I so desperately wanted.

I hoped it would be the light at the end of my tunnel.

But it wasn’t.

I’ve felt miserable.

I am miserable.

I loathe living on my own.

When The Girl and I are here together we potter around the house, we do chores, we play in the garden and have picnics together and everything is fine….. and then she goes to bed and my happy face falls and I feel completely alone.

I haven’t got the hang of enjoying my own company and I really miss having someone to talk to and I really never thought that making one side of the bed would feel like a knife in my heart each and every day.

I know I sound miserable and I know in time it will get better and things will get easier but it’s so hard to feel any positives.

For now though I’ll smile, I’ll nod, I’ll say I’m fine and take each new day as it comes.

Categories: life

“You want this more than me”

Six words.  Six little words.

Go, on.  Count them.

One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five.  Six.

Six.  Words.  That.  Broke.  My.  Heart.

I don’t really remember much about the conversation after we’d had it.  But I do remember leaving it feeling like my world had finished right there.  I felt like I’d been walking and walking and I’d reached the edge of something and all that I was faced with was nothing.

I remember crying and crying and crying.

I cried so much I felt empty of tears.

I went home, slapped on my happy face, sorted out The Girl and cried some more. I cried until my face felt burned by tears and until my eyes stung so badly the only respite I had was when they were closed.

But I don’t remember sleeping.  I remember feeling sad and devastated all the way to my very soul.  I swear I could hear my bones sob and what I needed was someone to fix me.  The problem was the one person I needed more than anything else on earth to make everything better was the one person who 3 hours before told me they didn’t want me anymore.

That was is hard to handle.

Thoughts raced through my brain like a relay team passing one baton to another, practical things like the mortgage being in joint names – what would we do?  Where would I I live?  Where would he live?  What would we tell people?  The Girl?

Oh shit, The Girl.  What the hell were we going to tell her?

We decided on nothing.  Not for the moment.  The Hot Geek said we needed to work out what we were going to do now and until that decision had been made she didn’t need to know.  How confusing would it be to be told that Mummy and Daddy aren’t together anymore but continue to live together?

He had a point.  I know he did but it was so hard looking at her smiling happy face knowing her world would be so different soon. It is still so hard.

The Break Up happened at the end of May and my life since is a never ending cycle of unhappiness.

I shower in the morning and I cry.

I make dinner and I cry.

I get into bed and I cry.

Not everyday, but most days.

The Hot Geek asks me what’s wrong, he wants to help, he wants me to not feel sad and I tell him that he can’t help me.  Not anymore because how the can the person who has left me devastated possibly help me feel better?

I know I sound like a broken record, really I do and deep down I’m sick of feeling unhappy, upset and miserable and as much as my head wants to rule my heart and lead the way back to some semblance of happiness I just can’t help it.

I mean, haven’t you ever felt such overwhelming sad??   And not just sad, but heart-in-a-million-pieces-black-soul sad?

And the worst thing about it is sometimes it sneaks up on me like a ninja when I least expect it.

Just when I’ve started to convince myself that I’m doing OK, that I’m ready to try and move on, someone, anyone, looks me square in the eye and asks me how I’m doing and that’s it – I fall to pieces.  I wave goodbye to the Happy Face I’ve spent most of the day wearing and wipe away my facade with my tears and I find myself a sobbing wreck trying desperately to say “I’m fine”.

But I’m not fine.

I’m heartbroken.

I need to retrain myself.

Learn to say new things like ‘I’ and not ‘we’ or ‘us’.

Someone asked me recently if I was single and I said “no” before I quickly corrected myself because I know I am.

Well, my head does.  My heart doesn’t.

Single.

What an awful word.

Single.  One.  Lonely.

Those are the thoughts that come to mind when I say it.  That’s how the word makes me feel and it’s odd to think it refers to me now.

It’s hard.  Un-natural.

Single.

I’m single.

Why though?  Why is it so hard to say?  Why do I feel so terrified of one little word?

I think it’s because that one little word means I have to find a whole new way of living on my own, with The Girl, without the man I thought would love me forever and it’s that that scares me death.

Categories: life

So… I’ve literally just read The Girl a bedtime story and shortly after she decided she wanted to have a conversation with me.

I shit you not, this is how it went:

The Girl: D’you know Mummy, I am you and you are me?

Me: Really?  Why’s that then?

The Girl: Nanny said so.

Me: Uh-huh and why did she say that?

The Girl: Because when I ask her who am I she say’s I am you.

Me: That’s not true.  Did you tell her you have the name Bridget because I found you under a bridge?

The Girl: *laughing* NO YOU DIDN’T!

Me: Well where do you think you came from?

The Girl: *whispers* God.

Me: Do you?

The Girl: No *hysterical laughing*.  You made me.  Not God.

Me: Did I?

The Girl: Yeah.  Not God.  I don’t believe in God.

Me: *gigles* I did make you, yes. But you don’t believe in God?

The Girl: Nope.  Or Jesus.

Me: If you don’t believe in God and you don’t believe in Jesus… what do you think about the Bible?

The Girl: *more hysterical laughing* Come on Mummy….. it’s just a silly story book!!!!

Me: *open mouthed*

For the record, The Girl attends a Catholic Primary School so for any parents concerned that it might brainwash your child, don’t.  Mine doesn’t believe a word of it !

Categories: life

Disclaimer – I’ve drafted, written and re-written this post several times today.  I’ve hit save as draft and I’ve hovered over ‘delete’ a few times because I’m THAT nervous about publishing it………… but I always said that my blog was my space and if I can’t say it here… then I can’t say it anywhere

***************************************

Today is my 34th birthday.

That’s right.  34th.

I’ve been dreading today for weeks.

How many exactly?

I don’t know… but quite a few.

I want to say I’ve accepted it and I’m at peace with it.

But that would be a lie.

But this birthday hasn’t arrived without an epiphany of sorts.

And that epiphany is a realisation.

The realisation that I am my own worst enemy.

I wont lie, I’ve been told it before but let’s be honest……. something doesn’t mean shit until you tell it to yourself.

And here’s why:

The Hot Geek and I have been together nearly 5 years and I have never ever loved someone as much.  Scouts honour.

He makes my whole heart happy.

But if you were to ask me if I make that obvious every day I’d have to tell you, with my head hung low in shame, that the answer would be no.

Disgusting eh?

As if that wasn’t bad enough I’ve probably not made loving me back too easy either.

You see, I have a thing.  A Miss Thing actually and she makes me crazy.

She is the evil voice in my head that makes me doubt how he feels.

She is the green eyed monster that rears her ugly head when a pretty, younger girl looks his way.

She is the skinny, carefree, childless woman that can do what she wants, when she wants and is more than ‘just a mum’

But the more I’ve tried to ignore her and pretend she doesn’t exist the worse she’s been.

Her latest rampage has been about my birthday.  She’s taken my insecurities about my age and my child bearing, marriage wanting future and turned it against me.

“Why aren’t you engaged?” she sneers.

“If he loved you like you think he does why hasn’t he asked you”?

“You know why he hasn’t don’t you??  You’re old”

“You’re not getting any younger are you?  You wait much longer and there wont be any point you having more children”

She rampages round my head and a tiny bit of my heart breaks every time she does.

Her voice in recent weeks has been so loud that when I’ve talked about it to friends, they look at me like I’m nuts.

And I am nuts.

But she’s so loud.  She’s been so hard to ignore.

She drowns out all the common sense.

Instead of looking at him and believing what I already know I listen…. and I listen to her.

I allow her free reign in my mind when what I should do is ignore her and look at what’s in front of me.

I should look at what I have.

I’ve been an idiot.

am an idiot.

I’ve finally realised that if I continue to allow her to live in my head I will ruin everything I have and she will win.

And I can’t do that.

I am my own worst enemy, I know that now.

But I’ll tell you what I’m not.

I’m not a loser and I won’t be beaten.

So here it is.

Her eviction notice.

We’ll call it a birthday present to myself.

Categories: life

Dear chap on bike

Whilst I commend you for wanting to do your bit for the environment and cycling please don’t act surprised if I nearly take you off your bike when you dart in front me, at night, with no lights, no helmet and no high viz vest.

Idiot.

Nearly doing time for running you over, Me

*******

Dear bloke in the ice cream van

To the left of your steering wheel you’ll see a small lever.  Pushing it up or down turns the blinking orange light on the outside of your van on and off and lets everyone else on the road know whether you’re turning left or right.

In future, might I suggest you use it BEFORE you pull out in front of me.

Dickhead.

Driving without the aide of a crystal ball, Me

*******

Dear Man sitting in the middle of the roundabout

Did you see the words in the white box that you’ve parked over?

No.  Thought not.

Well, the words read KEEP CLEAR and it’s a rule.  Not a request.

Sat waiting for you to move the fuck on, Me.

Categories: life