Torn

I was heartbroken a few months ago, when I was told by immigration that I was not eligible to apply for a residency visa in New Zealand. I clearly remember coming out of the Queen Street office, head in a blur and tears in my eyes as I walked blindly to the bus stop. I was overwhelemed with disappointment that I was unable to stay in the country I felt most at home in, and angry that the life I had started to build there, my career, friendships and aspirations, had just been crushed by a man behind a desk, who severely lacked compassion. I settled for the next best option and headed over to Melbourne, Australia, where I am currently living, after arriving two months ago. So I’m currently in the process of trying to get my employers to sponsor me, or to get some kind of residency here. Going home to England has simply not been an option for me. I resent the bad weather, have a lot of bad memories there, and the economy is in such a bad state right now, I know that I would struggle to find work.

Yesterday I found myself watching the Olympics and feeling a little home sick, not for the place I grew up, but for the capital city. Despite never having lived there, I frequently visited my Dad there, and fell in love with the non-stop rush and hectic lifestyle. The cultural diversity is also something I realised Australia is lacking, I know it always takes time to get used to a new country, but I miss culture. New Zealand, although the cultural aspect is very different from London’s huge ethnic variety, I loved for the warm embrace of the countries deep Maori influence. I was overwhelmed by how strong the Maori culture was in day to day Kiwi life. I felt it all around me, and am still fascinated by the language, the tattoos, and how family was so key to the culture.

I’ve just felt that Australia really lacks this. I met a lot of friends back in Auckland who welcomed me into the culture. And since being in Melbourne, I’ve seemed to be magnetised to Kiwi’s, in fact the first guy I dated over here was Maori, and I was thrilled to be able to spend time with him and his friends, I still miss him, but also miss that inclusion in the traditions.

I’ve found in the last couple of days, I’m becoming torn, because as much as I don’t want to go home, I feel strongly that I won’t get as much out of Australia as I did out of New Zealand. I’m even considering trying to go back there. Since travelling alone, I’ve been able to discover who I really am, and that person is a far cry from the girl who left the UK over a year ago. I fear going home, because I know that people I considered friends back there, are actually not. The place I made true friends and feel most at home in, is New Zealand, and I’m scared that going home would suck me back into the life I had before travelling, I would be dragged back into the false personality I had before. I feel free on this side of the world.

A Whole New Level of Understanding

This evening I was met with what could have been a great dilemma. Something that I’m sure many people in my position would be sitting here stewing in anger, or fretting over another possible failure, people who I’m sure would also dub me as being stupid or naive for not doing the same.

You see, over the weekend I met a guy. Very sweet, very gentlemanly, who seemed to take pleasure in making contact with me and interested in conversing. A far cry indeed from the type of man I am used to meeting. However this evening, a silly mistake in the form of a text sent to the wrong person, resulted in him calling me and explaining that he was incredibly sorry to mess around with me, but that he actually has a girlfriend who is currently overseas. He explained to me that it’s been rough for a while between them, and that to him it’s been over for a long time, and meeting me has given him that final closure he needed to realise that it needed to end. For some reason, I didn’t feel angry or betrayed at all. In fact, I felt genuine compassion for him, as I was listening to him repeatedly telling me ‘I’m so sorry to do this to you.’ and ‘I’ll completely understand if you don’t want to hear from me again.’ I guess I heard myself in his jumbled, confused words, and I found myself calming him, telling him that I understood, how I’d been there myself and that when he’s ready, I would love to hear from him again.

The situation is both very new, yet very familiar to me. I have very much been in his situation before, and I think it’s given me a great understanding and ability not to immediately label someone as a bad person because they have cheated on their partner. From my experience, I’ve realised that there is often a genuine reason when a person cheats, it often is the only thing that can jolt the person into realising that they are in a poisonous and unhealthy relationship, especially if it’s been a long term one. We often gloss over the things that are making us unhappy in a relationship, because we’ve become lost in a ‘comfort zone’ that is actually not very comfortable. For me, it was the only thing I’d known for four years, something that I’d sacrificed friendships, and even the relationship between myself and my mother, for. Sometimes, all the advice and criticism from loved ones on the relationship, can just fall on deaf ears. But the one thing to make you realise the truth in their words, is when you meet someone completely new, who opens your eyes to what actually makes you tick, the way you have craved to be touched, and the way you have longed to be spoken to. We can convice ourselves for so long that we have a real connection with another person, until someone else comes along who you truly connect with.

I have great respect for him telling me exactly what the situation is. Also, for calling me to speak to me in person, as it would have been so much easier to send a text. It pleased me when he told me he needed some space so he could sort it all out, but that he hoped he would be able to see me again when it settles down. For those reasons, I feel I really would like to see him again. I am not going about this in a selfish way though, his girlfriend, however bad the relationship was, will obviously be devastated, and I although I was unaware she existed, I am not going to step on anyone’s toes and make myself look like a home wrecker. So for that reason, I will not be having contact with him, until he decides to make it with me. It would be wrong of me to get in the way of something that is purely between the two of them, so until it is definitely over, I will hold fire, but at the same time, I will not be waiting around. As much as I trust people easily, I have learnt to prepare for the unexpected, not to say that I expect the worst, I just don’t like to live wearing rose tinted glasses.

My final week in New Zealand

I can’t believe how quickly it’s come around! As much as I knew the last few weeks would fly by, it’s all happened unbelievably fast. The last couple of days, it suddenly became a reality that I’m actually leaving Auckland soon, along with a number of incredible friends. But I’m having to push past that and look to the future, which has actually turned out to be amazing. As you may have read previously in my posts, I’m relocating to Melbourne, and in the last couple of weeks I’ve landed myself the position of Store Manager at one of our boutique stores in Armadale. It’s unusual for me to have a huge amount of pride and to speak of myself in praise, but having only arrived in the company less than a year ago, starting out as a Part Timer, to jump to a role as a Manager, even skipping the usually obligatory Assistant Manager role, is something that I feel incredibly proud of. Knowing that I’m moving into a role which is going to be both challenging and exciting, makes the move over to Australia a lot easier to get my head around. All that’s left is to find a home when I arrive, and I can throw myself head first into the new adventure and begin to explore and meet people.

I had a day off today, and after spending the morning lounging around being incredibly un-productive, I went for a long walk into Mt Eden Village to get a card and chocolates for my colleagues (last day tomorrow- booooo!). It takes about 25 minutes to get there by foot, but I’ve always enjoyed walking. It’s a form of exercise which doesn’t feel like exercise. Perfect for me who’s a bit of a gym-phobe. I’m in a strange place right now, where I’m totally in love with the country, but very unsure as to whether I’ll be able to return. I want to more than anything else right now. Maybe not in the near future, but realistically, it’s a place where I’d love to bring up a family. Of course, I’ll need to find a decent man to help me with that, but that’s another topic…

On my walk, I found my whole body trying to take in as much as possible of my surroundings. Every single sense was inhaling the scenery around me. I could feel the gentle breeze on my cheeks, smell the warm autumnal air, my eyes were taking in every single thing along the road. I felt like I was gulping the air, trying to get the very most out of it. My head seems to be constantly re-living memories I’ve made out here, as if they’re going to disappear once I leave the country. I want them to be as vivid as possible.

This week’s going to be filled with saying my final goodbyes to Auckland and clearing my room out ready for the move on Sunday. Then sleeping on a friend’s sofa until I fly out on Wednesday. I can feel there’s going to be a lot of tears, already had a breakdown yesterday, all alone in my room. I don’t even know what triggered it. Everything suddenly felt very real, and the though of being alone and scared in a country I don’t really know, triggered a couple of tears, which lead to me sitting on my bed, crying hysterically for about 20 minutes. No doubt leaving work tomorrow will bring on another load of tears, but for the moment, I’m just trying to glaze over reality and pretend it’s not really happening… my old coping mechanism…

My heart has taken a beating this year.

I feel stupid. Jumping to conclusions again, making a twat of myself and pissing people off. Although I know there was never anything serious going on, I suddenly feel incredibly lonely. More so because for once, he was actually a genuine, nice guy. It’s that same old story of wanting something you can’t have. And I hate to think that I upset him. Yet I found myself hearing that familiar old spiel: ‘I think you’re an awesome chick but…’

I’m getting tired of hearing it. And I’m not blaming anyone for saying it, but for once I’d like to be told that I’m awesome full stop. No if’s or but’s. I’d like not to be doing the chasing. Cos that’s not how it’s meant to be is it? Men are meant to enjoy doing the chasing, not enjoy being chased. Maybe it’s just the kind of guys I’m attracted to. The ones who enjoy nothing more than feeling sought after, a boost for the ego.

I guess I just desperately want to feel like someone gives a shit about me. I want to know what it feels like to be in love, because I don’t feel that I’ve ever really experienced it. My last relationship was a joke. There was no love there at all. No happiness.

I must sound like such a loser, but it’s hard being alone on the other side of the world from all your family and friends. And I really crave male company. Someone who I feel would look after me, a real man. It hit me the other day how much a certain someone from my past actually meant to me. I’d spent so long being angry at him, I’d overlooked how happy he’d made me. I felt like his little princess. Not because he bought me things or showered me with compliments, but I loved the feeling of being with him in public. I was really proud to be seen by his side. I haven’t heard one word from him since, but recently I’ve found myself thinking of him every night and worrying if he’s okay, where he is, etc etc. I’d give a lot to go back a few months and snuggle up in his big arms, go for a drive with him, cuddle up on the sofa with wine and the Lord of the Rings trilogy (a true Kiwi). I just hope he’s okay, and that he’s happy and safe. When he came home from overseas, I really noticed a change in him, he was suddenly very uncaring about everything, his realistic view on the world had turned to a ‘Fuck it’ attitude. And then I never saw him again. My gut instinct is that something happened when he was away with work, that shook him, made him snap. And it wouldn’t be unusual I guess, I know it’s a common thing to happen to guys in the military, especially the unit he was in. I even remember my Dad having a discussion over Skype with me when I started seeing him, warning me that these guys are not mentally the same as your average guy on the street. They’ve gone through the most ridiculous training to get to where they are, and they’ve been bred to cope with situations that any other human being would run away from. Natural instinct has been beaten out of them. I guess it’s not surprising that eventually, the things they see and do, which of course they can’t talk about, can just push them a little bit too far.

My coping mechanism when someone hurts me, is to be angry at them. I get that same ‘Fuck it’ attitude. And people often say how I bounce back so quickly, but I think it’s a bit of a front. We need to let ourselves mourn the end of a relationship. Now I’m finding, that after being angry at him for so long, I hadn’t allowed myself to be sad about it. I’d brushed it off as him being an arsehole and that he didn’t deserve a thought. But I think it’s worse in a way, because now, a few months later, I’m feeling incredibly sad about it. I understand more. Not that I ever had an answer to why he suddenly cut me off. I hadn’t realised just how much I cared about him until I started seeing other people. The guy who I hooked up with recently was lovely, but didn’t even come close to him. I honestly think I was in love with him, I just didn’t let myself admit it. All I wish for now is for him to be safe and happy, and I guess feeling like that proves it. If all you feel is hate and resentment for someone who hurt you, I don’t think you can say you loved them. It takes a lot of courage to want them to be happy without you, it’s something I never thought I’d feel.

It was when I was looking through the pictures of his best friend’s wedding (which he was best man for) that it became apparent. He just stood out a mile to me, everyone else was looking jubilant, grinning from ear to ear, and he just looked so sad; lonely. And seeing him standing to the side of the shot, head lowered, eyes glazed over and melancholy, I felt my gut wrench and my heart sink. Suddenly, all the hurt that he’d caused meant nothing and all I wanted to do was take him in my arms and comfort him. Not that I even know what he was sad about, but I wanted to protect him. Which sounds ridiculous, me being a teeny little British girl; him, a huge, broad Samoan soldier.

Every time I think of him I get this lump in my throat. The reality is that I will probably never, ever hear from him or see him again. He who actually had such a massive impact on my life, taught me to deal with very difficult, unique situations, taught me that life is very short. And without a doubt, he had such a huge effect on my experience in New Zealand. When I met him, I suddenly felt included in the culture, the people, the general way of life out here. No doubt I would have experienced it otherwise, but not to the extent that he showed me. I have the most amazing memories that he helped create. He’s a person who I don’t think I will ever properly get over. I miss him terribly.

 

Webcams do nothing for the self esteem.

I often find myself, when bored and alone, sitting on my bed in my underwear and messing around with my webcam. They are the most intruiging and torturous things. My session with my webcam (nothing but innocence here, so don’t get the wrong idea) usually starts with me messing around with my hair, using it as some sort of mirror- genius idea. Sometimes this turns into an experiment, seeing how ridiculous I can make my face look in as many different contortions as possible. Now these webcam’s have a habit of acting nice to begin with, you’ll take a look at yourself and be given a nice suprise ‘Hey! I don’t look so appalling without make-up after all!’ (forgetting the poor image quality and flattering light of course) or ‘Excellent! I’ve found a silly face that I can pull in pictures that doesn’t make me look like a gremlin! But I still look fun! Amazing!!’ Then suddenly, once it knows you’ve let your guard down, out of nowhere, as if the webcam has got bored of my childish behaviour, I’ll turn at a funny angle, and the pesky layer of fat around my bra that refuses to disappear no matter how much exercise I do, contorts into some despicable jellied mass. I shriek as I see the acceptable reflection transform into something much less satisfactory. Why webcam?! Why did you let me think for a moment that all was well, let my hopes rise sky high, only to cruelly drop me down to earth with a bang?

But I’ll gather my scattered emotions. It’s okay. Just a funny angle. Everyone looks like that when they turn that way. Try doing it again. Not working. Even worse in fact. Straighten back when you do it, yea, that’ll work. Horror of all horrors! Fat arms!! They never wobbled like that before!! And what’s that?! Hair looks stupid from the side, nose is growing at a rate of knots- when will it end! The horrors snowball from then on till you’re left feeling thoroughly beaten down, not realising of course, that when you’re sat down hunched over a laptop, your body tends not to look it’s supermodel best. And that the two helpings of lasagne you had previously probably didn’t help much towards the bloated stomach. Head to the bathroom for better, closer to reality, look in the mirror. Mirror does indeed not lie. Webcam does apparently. Back fat still there, but looks much more acceptable when stood up straight in comparison to the rest of my body. Life not so bad after all.

But of course, tomorrow night, I’ll be bored and lonely again. Battle will once again commence.

When life decides to drop you into the most awkward of situations…

As Good Friday in New Zealand seems to mean a paid day off, I left work last night and headed straight to one of my friend’s gigs with the intention of having a catch up with the mates and a couple of drinks. When I arrived however, they had already had a good couple of drinks and were all feeling particularly merry! One thing turned to another and we all headed to another bar which had a burlesque evening on- love burlesque. There’s something so classy but sexy about it. I certainly don’t categorise it with stripping, there’s something so tasteful about the art of teasing, but not showing too much, that these girls have mastered.

So the cocktail teapots were ordered in rounds, and all of us being British and brought up in the binge drinking culture, resulted in someone formulating the plan of pouring the cocktails from a great height into the mouths of each of us. Now, having purchased a new silk tank and faux fur vest the day before, I was rocking the outfit at work that day, and it not the appropriate attire for pouring sticky beverages into mouths… With each of us taking turns to photographically record the event, it came to my turn to sample the cocktail, and as much as I did my very best to cover the silk with my hands, as my already drunk friends started pouring from the teapot, the contents began splashing down my exposed chest. Just as the contents was finally emptied over me, I heard a ‘Hello Meg!’ coming from the table behind me… Turning around looking like the star of a soft porno or contestant in a wet t-shirt contest, I met eyes with the owner of the mysterious voice, who was none other than my ex’s boss. Yes, the one with whom I’d cheated with.

I didn’t know whether I was more shocked to see him, or more mortified to see him at such an inconveniant, innapropriate moment. The last time we’d seen eachother must have been at least 4 months ago, where we had a screaming row at his bar, resulting in him getting me thrown out. But I bit my tongue and went over to the table where he greeted me with a big kiss on the cheek and launched into asking how I’d been and what I was doing with my life. And I do feel better for leaving it on better terms, he even complimented me on my necklace (very boring design, funnily enough resting on a sticky-from-cocktails, glossy cleavage… you do the math.)  And of course when his current girlfriend returned to the table, he very quickly withdrew from my ear and introduced us. Introductions aside, I sauntered back to my friends who shrieked with laughter when I explained who he was.

I always seem to find myself in these awkward situations! I was just very glad to have the burlesque show as a distraction…

7 Reasons Why He Stood You Up:

1. He’s comatose from the crazy Saturday night he had and will wake up and realise with horror that he’s missed your date… cue a barrage of phone calls… (Unlikely scenario, but possible)
2. It suddenly dawned on him that you can do so much better than an incredibly good looking actor like himself, so he selflessly let you go… (even more unlikely)
3. The sudden realisation that you may actually like him has just hit him and he’s running in the opposite direction at the speed of light… (very likely)
4. Possible accident has left him in hospital… (could explain complete absence of communication… possible)
5. The ex that he didn’t stop talking about has decided that bottling him round the head was a bad idea and has gone running back into his open arms… (truth… men out here seem to like psychos)
6. He’s just an arsehole who likes to mess around with a girls head, get what he can from her, and then disappear of the face of the earth (been here before, pretty spot on)
7. …a combination of No.3 and No.6 (I’d put money on this.)

But the main point of this post is, if he’s lacking the balls to tell you straight up that he’s not interested, and thinks it’s acceptable to leave you waiting around for him for the whole day, with no word whatsoever, then darling, he is not worth even thinking about. Because let’s face it, no matter how attractive someone is, you don’t want to be with a guy who can’t be bothered to make an effort to see you for a couple of hours, who is obviously so wrapped up in himself he uses girls as a way to massage his ego. You can’t changed people and at the end of the day, he’s going to end up a lonely old man.

Social Stigma.

As a young woman, I’ve come across a few examples of how sexism is still rife in the 21st Century, although I’m certainly not one to go around shouting about it and accusing every man under the sun of being an arse. Most of the time, I guess I just accept it, and feel that there is always going to be a heirarchy between men and women, and put it down to being in a guy’s nature to want to be dominant and at the top of the ladder so to speak. And I don’t resent that at all, personally I quite like a man to be the one who’s in control, earning more than me (although I do not condone any wage discrimination between the sexes, it’s more about success levels for me…).

The thing that is currently making my blood boil, is the stigma that a girl gets for having a casual hook-up/one night stand. Since splitting with my ex, I’ll openly admit that I’ve had more than my fair share of fun. But I feel that I needed to experiment, see different people and experience a variety of guys as my ex had been my first everything. I’d been with one person, who I was not happy with, and failed to satisfy me, for nearly four years. And those four years came at a time where my friends and everyone else of a similar age were having a wild time and discovering what made them tick. I guess I felt like I missed out. I needed to catch up. And it’s been great to mess around, I’ve found out what I’m attracted to, and it turned out to be the complete opposite of my ex; older men, tall, built, successful and I seem to be subconsciously steering away from white guys too.

But in my weekend endeavours, I’ve found that my guy friends (meaning no harm, but still…) give me a lot of shit for my actions. Speaking to a number of guys about what they get up to on a night out, I’ll more than often be told of them going out on the prowl for girls, with the sole intention of taking one home/going home with her. If he acheives this, he’ll be praised by his mates, given the high five and quizzed for a verdict on how good she was in bed. Many of them, I’ve discovered, also like to play the ‘Numbers Game’ which I’m sure you’ll know, consists of seeing who can sleep with the most girls. These guys are certainly not out on the hunt for a girlfriend, hell, you’re lucky if they’ll even ask for your number let alone a second date. So why, if it’s seen as an acheivement to have a casual, no-strings-attached one nighter for a guy, does a girl get labelled as a slut/whore/slag if she has sex with someone because she just fancies a bit of fun? How is that fair? When the word ‘player’ is used for a guy, it’s used in a positive sense, so where is the equivalent title for the girl?

It seems to be seen as a taboo subject that a woman may actually enjoy sex, for sex’s sake, and not because she’s looking to marry the guy. I can put up with the ‘woman’s place is in the kitchen’ jokes and other such things taken in jest, but this is one thing that I can predict is going to continue to grind my gears till the end of time…

Short but Sweet Observations

1. Men are very simple creatures. So are women really, we just like to pretend we’re deep, but at the end of the day, we all have the same needs.
2. Not every guy is an arsehole who has one thing on the brain. There are some truly amazing men out there, it’s just a case of digging through the trash to find the diamonds.
3. I think too many people shy away from following their hearts because they’re scared of being hurt. If we only gave these things as chance,  who knows what could happen? The possibilities are vast, maybe you’d find something incredible. But you’ll never know unless you give it a chance.
4. I really can’t stand being disliked. Especially when it’s for something that is out of my control. Which leads me on the the final point…
5. … being bitter and resentful will never get you anywhere in life and certainly won’t make you happier. It’s also one of the most unnattractive traits.

Experiment No. 1- Failed.

Seems I’m one of those irritating people who can hand out great advice but not take it themselves. Today, I’ve been walking round the shop with what feels like a lead weight in my chest and knots in my stomach. My experiment to try and have a ‘casual’ relationship with this guy I met recently, is failing miserably. Turns out he’s actually incredibly nice, as well as incredibly good looking. We hung out on Saturday night at my place with a bottle of wine (which I’d opened a week ago, not good. Drink Rose immediately, turns vinegar-ey after a week… poor guy politely drank it anyway…) and lounged around chatting about life and getting to know eachother more. For once, I’ve managed to meet someone who’s not a complete prick, and as it turns out has been in long term relationships for about 9 years up until last year when his last one (very serious, talks of marriage involved) broke up. It took me by surprise how open and honest he was with me, also how he didn’t say a bad word about any of his ex’s and came across as someone who genuinely wants a good relationship rather than just fucking round with numerous girls.

Perhaps it was a mistake meeting up. I don’t know. But I went against my own rules, and we talked ex’s, families, life regrets/ambitions etc etc. All the things I specifically said NOT to talk about. In my defence, I did follow the honesty rule and told him right at the start of the evening about going to Melbourne. To be honest, he almost seemed a little disappointed when I told him that I’m leaving NZ, but knowing my history with judging situations wrongly, I could be wrong about that one too. That aside, we just had such an awesome weekend. I liked being able to lounge around talking about stuff with someone who can hold a conversation and had interesting things to say. I liked finding out more about him, how he was thrilled that I love eating a shit load of food, how he thought I looked ‘incredibly cute’ in my PJ bottoms (he even knew where they were from- sign of a fellow retailer) that my ex hated, with last night’s make up smudged across my face and my hair in a messy can’t-be-arsed-bun. He even made the bed in the morning while I was taking a shower (Yea, yea. He stayed the night. Don’t judge…) and we missioned out to Mt Eden Village to find a suitable bakery to get some breakfast (pies).

There was a few of those moments where I found myself getting too comfortable with him. Where I felt he was getting too comfortable with me. It’s a dangerous situation to be in, when you start to look at someone and see that you could work very well together. Especially when you’re leaving the country in 6 weeks. And then for the last couple of days, that old familiar feeling has snuck up behind me. Like you’re missing something. Your heart-rate feels a little quicker, you feel like you’re in a bit of a daze, not noticing things you’d usually notice. And oh look, here I am. In that place I didn’t want to be and I fought so hard to convince myself and others that I wouldn’t get here. I don’t even know if he’s going to meet me again at the weekend. Although he said he would, I’m always very sceptical of guys acting nice. His phone’s dying so I haven’t heard anything since Sunday and of course I’m doubting myself and losing a lot of faith that he is the nice guy I though he was. I don’t even know what I’m hoping for. Nothing could work could it?

On top of this, it’s suddenly hit me how little time I have left here, and how much I don’t want to leave. I felt like crying for the whole day. This place has become home to me. The friends I’ve made here are some of the best people I’ve ever met. The thought of leaving is gutting. The only thing that’s spurring me on the Melbourne is knowing that my little sister is coming over to visit me for a month in July. But I have to admit, if she wasn’t, I don’t know what else I have to make me want to go. Why does life have to do this? I’ve been here a year, with a shitty ex for half of it, saw another shitty guy for a couple of months who initially seemed nice but actually had no idea what he wanted or what he was doing, and then, when my time is nearly up, I meet someone awesome. Who I realistically can’t have. Why why why?!