Friday, 29 January 2010
I'm sitting here and my stomach is doing back flips, actually that is an understatement. It feels like the whole 2012 Russian Gymnastic team are in training in there. This might mean that I quite fancy Mr Rockstar, either that or I've caught Evie's sickness bug from a couple of weeks ago.

Last Saturday after Mr Rockstar kissed me we ended up going to a party. Well that's how it was sold to us by Molly's friend. What it actually consisted of was a group of people being told to remove their shoes, being ushered into a living room, the host suddenly announcing his Dad earned "something like £250,000" before disappearing off to his bedroom with a burlesque looking girl. He did reappear briefly looking for some matches, wearing nothing but a hand towel, which he struggled to hold around him, much to the amusement and disgust of his guests. Thank god I didn't get a full frontal!

It wasn't long before Molly and her friend left and Mr Rockstar and I found ourselves in a room full of strangers. We didn't care though, we talked, we laughed, we kissed and he asked me out for dinner. I said yes, hence the squiffy tummy, we're meeting tomorrow night.

It was 6.50 am when I finally crept back into my Mum's house - I felt like a 17 year old again, it was great! Not so great later on that morning when I discovered that I had a rash spreading around my side and onto my stomach.

Molly's a nurse so I had faith in her not recoiling when I showed her my reptile skin. "It might be Shingles" she said. Damn, that's not good, doesn't that make you really ill? Now my first text to Mr Rockstar after our kiss was going to be about whether he'd had Chicken Pox, hardly romantic and very uncool. When I was seeing Mr Writer he caught Chicken Pox from his best friend who had Shingles at the time, not a pretty sight. Oh god...

I went to the Doctor on Monday morning. "Hmm - it might be Shingles". Ok, so we're still on the "might be". Did she not realise I had a dinner date on Saturday? I needed to know. "Give it 48 hours, you'll know then". Those 48 hours passed on Wednesday, I still have a slight rash but hey, it's not like I'm going to get naked tomorrow night - right.....?
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
So there I was, face to face with Mr Rockstar wondering if he was thinking about what a cow I had been 15 years ago.

"You know I didn't really know who I was meeting tonight".

Hmm...ok, naturally I'm a bit insulted by this, surely he remembered me? I remembered him, why didn't he remember me?

"I had to ask Ian if he knew who you were when you friend requested me, but he didn't know."

"Wait a second" I said. "I know Ian, I've been at his house". Ok, that was 15 years ago but even so.

"Yeah, then I asked Al, he didn't know who you were either".

WTF??!! Al is Ian's younger brother who was in my class in high school. Am I really that easy to forget?

I suggest that we move to the bar upstairs so we can get a seat. It is obvious that there is going to be a need for one of us to familiarise himself with someone!

Within minutes though, Mr Rockstar has me in stitches, I couldn't remember him being this funny all those years ago! In fact, I couldn't remember laughing this much in the last couple of months. The time just seemed to pass so quickly, we talked about his friend's tragic death, how I'd wanted to speak to him at the funeral but couldn't. We talked about what we were doing with our lives now, the disastrous relationships we'd recently been in. He told me how great it was that I was a mum, he thought it was amazing. I'd always thought that was a bit of a turn off but here was someone who was so impressed with the fact that I was a mother! He said that I was a cool mum for taking Evie to Glastonbury. This was good, I had achieved status not just as a single mum but I was cool too! I was quite surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. I'd expected that there may be some uncomfortable silences but there were none. Even though 15 years had passed I felt like it was only yesterday since I'd last spoken to him.

As the night went on I could see that Molly and her friend were trying to get Mr Rockstar and I together.

They didn't need to try, Mr Rockstar had managed that himself. He made me feel great about myself without it being too desperate. He made me smile and laugh but most of all I felt alive. For too long I'd felt like I'd been surviving life rather than living it, on Saturday night he changed that and as we left the pub he looked into my eyes and kissed me.
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
The past couple of weeks have had me all over the place. On my knees trying to get sick stains out of the carpet after I forced Evie to school, dismissing her sore stomach as trapped wind. In a local pub for a secret meeting (secret because I didn't want anyone to know about it) with a young man, who asked me if I wanted to accompany him to a wedding in St Lucia - wow! Slight draw back, it's 8 days and I have to find £1500 to pay for it, oh yes and I have a child. That'll be a no then. He wants to see me again, actually, I think he just wants to have sex with an older woman. Unfortunately he's not going to get that from me, I don't want to be a MILF.

I also had to travel north at the weekend. It was Evie's father's 50th and I'd promised that I would take her up for his party. I laughed at the thought of him being 50. Isn't it strange that the age difference hasn't changed but the fact that he has turned 50 seems to make it feel bigger?

Knowing that I was going up north I decided to catch up with some old friends. One in particular who I'd recently got in touch with through Facebook. I'm not quite sure why I got in touch with Mr Rockstar. I hadn't seen him properly for almost 15 years but there was a memory of him that I just couldn't get out of my head. Perhaps it was curiosity that made me search for him on Facebook - I don't know. Mr Rockstar explained that he too was going to be in the area at the weekend, so I had suggested that we should meet for a catch up.

Mr Rockstar and I had a "thing" going on when I was 17 and he was 20. For roughly 5 weekends in a row we had snogging sessions while out at the pub. As far as I was concerned it was just drunken snogging, so when I decided I would prefer to snog his friend instead one weekend I thought nothing of it. Mr Rockstar wasn't impressed and although a fight didn't break out some choice words were used. I've felt bad about that ever since, especially since his friend wasn't that great at kissing. Serves me right for being so greedy!

Although I would see Mr Rockstar when I went to watch his band play, I never really spoke to him again and he moved away. Just after I had Evie I found out that the singer of Mr Rockstar's band had died of a Heroin overdose. It was a total shock to me, I had known the guy and I just couldn't believe that he'd gone down that route. I decided to go to the funeral and I will never forget when I walked into the funeral directors and saw Mr Rockstar sitting with the rest of the band in a room off to the side. I caught his eye but I don't think he saw me, I don't even think he recognised me. I felt utter pain for him and wanted to say something but I couldn't find the words. I never saw him again after that, although that memory of him sitting there, at his friend's funeral looking totally lost has never gone away.

The weekend was my chance to do right for my wrongs all those years ago. I was hoping that Mr Rockstar wouldn't get the wrong message about us meeting up. I just wanted a friendly catch up, I wasn't looking for a lumber. I just really wanted to say sorry to him, sorry for not finding the words at the funeral.

When Saturday night came though I got extremely nervous. Why was I nervous?? My poor cousin Molly had to put up with me nattering away anxiously while waiting to meet Mr Rockstar and where was he? I'd wandered around the bar to look for him but no sign, maybe he was in the upstairs bar? No, no sign of him there either. Starting to feel even more unprepared for this reunion I decided to text him "where are you?" No response to my text, by this time I was almost looking for a brown paper bag to blow in, still wondering why I was so nervous. Back down to the downstairs bar and I check my phone, no reply to my text. I look round and see this tall, scruffy haired guy walking towards me smiling. Bugger, Mr Rockstar had got even better looking and looked just my type.....
Wednesday, 13 January 2010
When it comes to love, what should you follow? Your heart or your head? In the past I've always gone with my heart. If those fireworks aren't going off in my belly when I'm with the person then it's just not going to work. However that hadn't been working for me recently which is why I followed my head when it came to Mr Offshore.

You see although I didn't have the fireworks going off, Mr Offshore had some great qualities as follows:

1) He had a fantastic smile and made me laugh (always important)
2) He was romantic
3) Had good dress sense (ok, slightly shallow)
4) Could cook
5) Was completely devoted to me
6) Wanted more children and to get married again
7) Paid for almost everything, food, wine, petrol!
8) Was going to build his own house, which he said could be for all of us
9) When I was at work he would have dinner ready on the table when I came home
10) Didn't think twice about taking me away for a weekend.

The most important of all though was that I completely trusted him. There was no doubt in my mind that he would be completely faithful to me, I knew that he would be there for me, no matter what. I felt I could rely on him.

I can safely say that I have never felt this about anyone. Now that I have Evie it's even more important that I feel I can have someone to depend on and Mr Offshore provided that.

So this is where I followed my head, after all, I thought given time I would fall in love with him. When he said on the third night we spent together "Do you think you could fall in love with me?" something clicked inside me, my heart closing its door. This question freaked me out. We'd only gone on our first proper date the night before, how could I possibly know that but then if I'd been following my heart I would have known that the answer was "no" and I might have saved a lot of heartache.

I later discovered my major faux pas, I slept with him on the first night. Yes, you read right I slept with him. He later said to me that he'd wondered what kind of girl must I be to do that? I laughed at him when he said this and said did he not sleep with me too? Apparently that doesn't count though. The truth was that I was at a party, saw an opportunity with someone I was having fun with and grabbed it. I guess I acted a bit like a man might and I didn't expect to hear from him again, it was just a bit of fun - wasn't it?

As it happened, egged on by our mutual friend I met up with him again and we had a great time. We continued seeing each other (despite the big love question on the 3rd night) and I soon learnt that he had all those wonderful qualities that I'd been looking for in a man. We were both passionate about the same things, although our music and art tastes varied, on paper, it all looked good and it was. In his typical style he told me he loved me sooner than I had wanted. I wanted to be in a position to say this back to him but couldn't and that made me angry, immediately it put me under pressure to put a label on my feelings for him. I'm ashamed to say that I gave in to the pressure and told him I loved him too knowing deep down I didn't but hoping that I eventually would.

It was during a particularly shitty day at work that I applied for the part time school administrator post up in his neck of the woods. It was in the exact location where Mr Offshore was planning his Mill Conversion, a little village in the north east of Scotland. We'd briefly spoken about moving in together if things continued well but not until the summer of 2010, that way Evie could move school during the holidays. There was a part of me deep down that was wondering what the hell I was doing but the other part thinking I needed to do something, feel like I was alive, things felt stagnant and I needed a change.

I received the call to say I'd got the job on the way back to Edinburgh following my interview and before I could stop the words I accepted it. Mr Offshore said he was happy to support me financially as the job was only part-time and on a lower salary grade. I was going to be losing over £12K a year but I tried not to think about that, instead I fantasised about country pubs, only having to work 16 hours a week, being able to spend more time with Evie and going to yoga. Bloody hell, I could go to Yoga! I could eventually get rid of all that tension, stress and frustration that had built up over the years.

The next day I told my colleague, who I often confide in, that I'd got the job and was taking it. I could tell by her face that she was gutted, she knew I'd be making a big mistake, at that point I just couldn't see it. Within the week, I'd handed my notice in (verbally, thank god!), told Evie's class teacher and more importantly told Evie about the exciting new start we were going to be making in the country.

She cried every night for the next week, I started freaking out and when I received an email from my very good friend Rapunzel at work telling me she couldn't be happy for me because she didn't believe I was doing the right thing, I broke down. My shoulders heaved as I sobbed uncontrollably hoping no one from the outside world was looking in, watching this lone person howling over her computer keyboard. Suddenly my breathing quickened and before I knew it I was out of rhythm and gasping for air. What the hell was happening? Was I dying? Shit, was the cleaner going to find me slumped on the floor with mascara running down my cheeks? Thank god it wasn't Yves St Laurent - what a waste that would have been! I sent a text to my mum "I can't breathe", possibly not the best text to send when you live 150 miles away. She phoned, I struggled to talk in between the sobbing, "I got an email, can you come down tonight?". It was the first time I'd really ever asked my mum for help since I'd moved to Edinburgh. I felt all alone and I needed her, I needed someone to tell me everything was going to be alright, like she did when I was little.

That was on the Thursday night, before the Saturday night in the pub where I realised Rapunzel had been right, the jealousy was a big issue. It was never going to go away and I wasn't prepared to say goodbye to good friends who I'd known for years just because they were the wrong sex.

That email saved me. It broke me down, held my breath and questioned my friendship but more importantly it gave me back my life because Rapunzel saw the one thing I couldn't, that I deserved the fireworks in my belly.
Tuesday, 12 January 2010
And there it was, my name in print, "These people have helped me in one way or another, some still do so thank you...." I felt very honoured to be amongst a select number of names on the acknowledgements page of Mr Writer's debut novel. My work colleagues didn't seem so interested in seeing my name in print today but then they're probably fed up hearing about it. It meant a lot to me though, it made me feel like a really good friend and a not too bad ex girlfriend either!

I suspect, in fact I could pretty much guarantee, that Mr Offshore wouldn't think the same about me. When I received the proof copy of Mr Writer's book I kept it hidden. I had mentioned to Mr Offshore that it would be arriving and that I hoped he wouldn't let it bother him. "As long as you don't keep it right by your bed". Hmm, don't the majority of us read in bed? So there it stayed, hidden in the bookcase. He didn't know Mr Writer's full name and it would be pretty tragic if he went searching through my bookshelf.

Of course he soon discovered his name when he asked me to show him Mr Writer's Facebook page. I suppose I could have said no but I was worried that it might look as if I had something to hide. Mr Offshore hated Facebook, I'd tried to explain the merits of social networking for a single mum stuck in most nights in a city she was new to but he wasn't buying any of it. When he saw that I had a friend request from a guy whose name happened to be the same as someone he knew he asked me to click on the profile. It turned out it wasn't someone he knew and it only added fuel to his fire. Why was this guy asking to be my friend, had I gone out with him, did I know him, which I didn't. Perhaps I should have lied and said he was an old school friend or a distant relation but all I ever tried to do with Mr Offshore was be honest right from the start.

You see, and I'm not trying to excuse his behaviour by any means, there have been two relationships that he's been in where his partner has cheated. The first was his wife, they'd been together 10 years when she went off with someone at a party and the second was a previous ex girlfriend to me who had flitted between him and her ex boyfriend. So I could appreciate his initial caution surrounding my friendships with my exes, however there's only so much a girl can take. After all, I had done nothing to raise suspicion. I'd been completely honest with him, I hadn't got pregnant by an ex and then claimed that I didn't know whether it was his baby or my ex boyfriend's. She'd done this, an ex girlfriend before me and he'd gone along to the clinic with her while she had the abortion knowing that the baby wasn't his. So, why was I being punished, why couldn't he trust me?

The final straw was on a Saturday night when after a few drinks he started going on about how I put Mr Writer first, or that's how it felt to him. Being a parent himself he should have known that if anyone was number one in my life it was Evie. So, in a way he was right, he was second in line but really, I was getting tired of this. It was a free Saturday night out where I'd managed to get Evie to spend the night round at a friend's so we could go out, listen to my colleague's band and have some quality time together, why was he spoiling it? That's when I realised, no matter where we were, what we were doing his jealousy was always going to spoil it. I'd said to him a month previous that the only man who was going to split us up was him. This couldn't continue as work in progress and the next day I told him that I was going to ask for my job back and stay in Edinburgh. Oh yes, I didn't mention the moving in with him bit, did I?
Sunday, 10 January 2010
I've only introduced two men into my daughter's life as "Mum's boyfriend", Mr Skinny Jeans and Mr Offshore. Evie became quite fond of Mr Skinny Jeans, probably because he was a big kid himself. Those feelings of fondness soon turned to disappointment following our split due to him asking for a DS game back that he'd "given" to Evie. Apparently he'd only said she could borrow it. I reminded him that when you say to a child "you can have that if you want" it generally means that they believe the item is now theirs.

I had hoped Mr Offshore would have been the last boyfriend I introduced to Evie but alas that wasn't to be. Although the way I've been feeling lately he could well be as the thought of getting involved with someone else fills me with complete dread.

I was always straight with Mr Offshore right from the beginning. I explained to him that I tried to remain on good terms with my exes, most had become friends and that I felt I got on better with men rather than women. Although I suspect this is because I've often been the single one out of my female group of friends. It was always like that at school so I just started hanging around with the guys, plus I was really into gigging so I'd often hit the big city with "the boys" to see some bands.

Initally Mr Offshore was a bit concerned about this as he felt I was a bit niave to think that these men just wanted to be friends with me. I dismissed this as I've never generally thought of men finding me extremely attractive or desirable. I'm the one they might have a laugh with or will discuss the merits of the Barrowlands. I'm not the one they want to kiss or go to bed with. Mr Offshore wasn't convinced though and with time this concern only grew. Before I knew it I was beginning to feel guilty about speaking to any male friend on Facebook even though it was completely innocent. When my male friend Steven offered me the use of a spare laptop because mine wasn't working (and still isn't) I was questioned by Mr Offshore with "but what is he expecting in return??" That annoyed me, mainly because it gave the impression that I was a weak woman. Did Mr Offshore think I was incapable of resisting a man, any man at that? It would appear that it wasn't just men that were the issue though.

Our mutual friend who'd originally set us up invited us to a party at her house one Saturday night. It can sometimes be a bit daunting going to a party with your boyfriend and he is the only person you know. There's a certain level of responsibility for him to introduce you to people (and let's face it, not all men are good at doing that!) and to make sure that you don't feel abandoned. I had no fear of this as we were both very familiar with the enviornment and the people, so I was quite looking forward to it.

We hadn't long arrived when I was introduced to Anna who happened to be in a similar line of work to myself. We soon got into quite an intense discussion regarding our connections through work and I was really enjoying listening to her point of view. Now Anna is married, to another woman, yes she is a lesbian although I suppose technically she is bi-sexual as she later explained to me that she had been involved with men in the past. I was later told that she can be quite flirty and almost predatory but there was no doubt to me that she was completely commited to her partner. Perhaps there was some indirect flirting by Anna, I don't know but something certainly got Mr Offshore's back up as he challenged me when we later went to bed. It would appear that I turned my back on him while we were at the party (this was while I was in discussion with Anna). I was too tired and drunk to argue with him but he kept asking me if I loved him, wanted to be with him, that he wanted me to put him first, etc, etc. It was a relief when I fell asleep.

The following week while we were having dinner Mr Offshore mentioned that he'd bumped into Anna while he was at a training event. He explained that she worked in the same building where his training was being held. I jokingly responded "was she asking for me?" He looked me straight it the eye and said "you know, you do yourself no favours". I looked at him for an indication of humour in his response, there was none. "Christ, I'm heterosexual, Anna's a lesbian," I replied. It was then that I knew we were in serious trouble.
Thursday, 7 January 2010
"Come and give your young, beautiful mum a kiss," I said to my daughter Evie this evening. "Well, you are young, mum", was the response I got. One out of two wasn't bad. I suppose I should be grateful that at least we have passed the phase of my daughter shouting out loud "why are you hairy there mummy?" while using a public toilet. Or the other favourite "are you doing a poo mummy?" My advice to you is this, if you can, always use the baby changing toilet with a young child to avoid these embarrassing outbursts.

Prior to establishing I was young but struggling on the beautiful side Evie asked if I wanted her. I told her that I had tried to sell her on eBay but apparently they don't let you sell children. I felt it was a pretty big question for a little girl. I wondered if she had heard me moaning on the phone that I hated being a single parent. That I felt I could never truly embrace the joys of having a child because when I wasn't working I was cooking the dinner while listening to her reading homework, nagging her to eat the dinner, getting her ready for bed, putting her to bed, doing the dishes, looking at the ever growing pile of ironing, going to bed for it all to start all over again the next day. Every day, every week. Evie doesn't go to her Dad's every second weekend or during the holidays, it's simply just her and I.

The truth of the matter is that at times, really tough times, I have wondered whether I did the right thing going through with the pregnancy. I brought a child into a world when I didn't even know whether I could provide for it let alone be a good parent. Some people might think I'm a little heartless saying something like that. But, I'm sure the majority of single parents have, at some point, questioned whether they did the right thing and it's not until they look in on their sleeping child before turning out the light that they realise yes, they did.
Wednesday, 6 January 2010
I received my official invitation to Mr Writer's book launch the other day which I'm really looking forward to however, the "will I be cool enough?" question cropped up in my head again.

I have had this discussion before with my younger brother Brodie regarding my "coolness rating" or rather lack of it, he kindly said I was cooler than him which was rather sweet but may have been due to the fact that I'd just introduced him to Mr Writer and his celebrity friend during the Edinburgh Fringe. I've always thought my brother was cooler than me. I remember trying to get him to grow his hair when he was a teenager, trying to introduce him to Indie music, to appreciate Radiohead and I even took him to Glastonbury via jumping the fence after bleaching his hair and dying it bright red. While I strummed away on my guitar he was busy playing Sonic the Hedgehog on the Sega Megadrive. Somehow I came back from college to a long haired brother, who played guitar like Jimi Hendrix, had Radiohead singles on limited edition coloured vinyl and had a PC in his bedroom! Well that was the start of it, my coolness status had started to slowly deteriorate. He wasn't meant to out do me!

When I moved to Edinburgh I really started to feel the pressure, now we were both in the same city, there was only room for one cool sibling and I wanted it to be me. Realistically though, that wasn't going to happen. I was single, with a 4 year old child, new to Edinburgh so no friends to socialise with plus I didn't even know about social networking! Brodie on the other hand was attending dinner parties with his student friends (I only attended my first dinner party 2 months ago!), doing an architecture degree at the College of Art (the college of coolness) and used words that I didn't even know existed!

It's a fact, I'm just not cool enough. Like the time I attended Mr Writer and his celebrity partner's live podcast event in Brighton last year. Music was played later on that night and The Pet Shop Boys' version of "Always on my Mind" came on. A girl (also a friend of Mr Writer and previous dater) smiled at me with excitement and gushed "this was the first single I bought". Now why did mine have to be Bros' "I Quit"?

Then there was the time I went to the Meadows last summer to read a book in the sun, look intelligent and quirky while my daughter was at dance class. As I lay there on the grass looking up at my book I felt quite relaxed, that is until some child decided to squirt me in the face with their Supersoaker water pistol unsuspectingly, giving me such a fright and resulting in a lot of people around me laughing. I smiled at my newly found audience while secretly thinking "you brat", looked at my watch (to give the impression I had to watch the time) and left soon after.

At least my daughter thinks I'm cool, mainly because I'm the youngest mum in her class and she's coming to Glastonbury with me this year. Of course not as cool as her Uncle Brodie, he wears converse trainers, lived in Barcelona, lets her watch South Park, has crazy hair, blah, blah, blah......
Monday, 4 January 2010
Now that the shit Hogmanay is out of the way on to more pressing matters. I've been involved in some recent poking with one of my exes. Now this isn't of the physical variety but of the Facebook kind. I've stayed on fairly good terms with the majority of my exes over the past few years, which I always thought was a good thing, after all it proves I'm mature - doesn't it? I'm now thinking that I will have to give them identities as I will no doubt refer to them in future posts and since I've added a new one to the collection it may get a little confusing, so here goes:

Ex No 1 - Wee Man

I had a brief relationship with Wee Man (I'll call him that because he's shorter than me, no other reason, we only ever kissed!) who'd been a friend of a friend in 2005 just before I moved to Edinburgh, lovely guy but I could only ever see him as a friend. He still texts me asking whether he needs to buy a hat yet - he could well be waiting a long time.

Ex No 2 - Mr Writer

I got to know Mr Writer through Myspace and he was my first internet romance which involved weekends between Edinburgh and London. I was upset that it ended after 4 months, probably due to the rejection as I wasn't in love with him but we worked hard at staying friends and I'm glad we did. A difficult character at times but a very good friend, I'm going to his book launch next month and am even mentioned in the acknowledgement section of his debut novel. My friendship with him (even though he has a girlfriend who he has since moved in with) was a major problem with Ex No 4.

Ex No 3 - Skinny Jeans

Although Mr Writer was my first internet romance it was actually Mr Skinny Jeans who was the first person I really fancied online. I had to wait nearly 2 years (involving on and off texts, instant messaging and a failed trip to London) until he managed to work up the courage to meet me though. We met at the Champagne Bar at St Pancras Station ("why can't she find someone closer to home" I hear you cry, I know, I know!). Mr Skinny Jeans was totally my type, he looked like he belonged in an Indie Rock band, had a lovely accent and was younger than Daniel. We lasted just under a year travelling between Bedfordshire and Edinburgh. It became apparent that he still had a bit of growing up to do. When I asked him why he'd put his socks in the washing machine rolled up in pairs he told me it was because that was the way he got them back from his Mum. I already had one child to look after, I didn't need another.

Ex No 4 - Mr Offshore

The most recent of my exes. Mr Offshore couldn't do enough for me and truly spoilt me. I couldn't actually believe that a man like this existed and appeared to be totally smitten by little old me. We went to expensive hotels and castles for the weekend. He bought me underwear, perfume and was fantastic with my daughter. He could cook and look after himself. He immediately pronounced his undying love for me which initially made me feel uneasy but he had such wonderful qualities that I thought I would eventually fall in love with him, after all, it had only been a few weeks. However, I suddenly became aware of his dislike over my use of the internet, the fact I remained on good terms with my exes, Mr Writer in particular and his general controlling nature. Damn, I knew there had to be a catch, plus my plan of falling in love with him didn't appear to be working, there just wasn't anything there and we split up last month - although it wasn't quite as easy as that.

Which brings me back to the ex who is, it would seem, keen on some virtual finger play, I didn't even realise people still poked on Facebook! Of course I didn't ignore the first poke, it would appear rude, especially since we're back being Facebook friends. However when it came to the forth and fifth the other day I did begin to wonder where this was going. Do more than six pokes mean you're now flirting? Am I flirting with Mr Skinny Jeans, an ex, without realising? Was Mr Offshore right, am I holding on to the past by staying in contact with ex boyfriends and will therefore never truly fall in love??


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Bird on a Wire
Imagine Carrie from Sex and the City morphed with Bridget Jones and a baby thrown in for added entertainment – that’s me, the ever optimistic romantic looking for my Mr Big but already with child! Read my blog from the beginning where I find out I am pregnant following a brief fling with my much older male colleague and fast forward to where I am now, stressed out working mum to my beautiful 10 year old daughter wondering if love really does in fact exist at first sight.
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