Sunday, 28 February 2010
When I walked into the bar where Mr Writer's book launch was being held I naturally had a scout around to suss out the other guests. I immediately felt overdressed. I'd decided to wear a black strapless short lace dress which had a netted underskirt and bright purple suede heels. I generally make a big effort when I go out, mainly because it's such a novelty for me and I love to dress up. But there were people wearing casual jeans there, I began to wish that I'd just worn my skinny jeans, heels and my red leopard print top as originally planned. Mr Writer had told me that his girlfriend was going to be wearing a fantastically beautiful vintage dress so I immediately felt under pressure. Not because I wanted to out-do her or make Mr Writer notice me but because I didn't want to feel inadequate. I wanted to feel good about myself. When I finally introduced myself to Mr Writer's girlfriend one of the first things she said to me was, "I love your dress". Result, self image restored.

There were some famous faces amongst the crowd, a lead singer from a major band, a well known TV/radio personality, both who were good friends of Mr Writer. So when he personally mentioned my name amongst a select few in his thank you speech it really blew me away, it was totally unexpected but there was something missing throughout the whole experience.....Mr Rockstar.

I missed him, I missed him big time. Before I knew it I couldn't stop thinking about him, I didn't care about the book launch I just wanted to be with him. This was all wrong. I'd looked forward to this night for ages and suddenly I found myself not wanting to be there without him. It felt wrong that he wasn't with me.

On the Friday I met up with my old school friend and also met her beautiful 5 month old baby son for the first time. Having been asked by Mother upon hearing about my trip if I thought I might feel broody, I'd answered a fairly definite "no". I was wrong.

I came back on the train last night with only two thoughts in my head, Mr Rockstar and babies or maybe it was babies first and then Mr Rockstar? Either way, this was worrying. I knew I should have flown down, I would have had less time to think so deeply about things.

As the train drew slowly back into Waverley Station the anticipation of seeing Mr Rockstar at the end of the platform waiting for me was almost unbearable. When he swept me up in his arms, held me tight and kissed me (yes, it really was that romantic!) that's when it all clicked. It suddenly dawned on me that at Mr Writer's book launch it was quite possible that I had found my potential rock star husband to be, it was just that he didn't need to be physically there for me to realise it.
Thursday, 25 February 2010
As I type this I am currently sitting on the train to London, on my way to Mr Writer's book launch. When I first got the invite I imagined flirting with the eclectic mix of people that would be there. Perhaps I'd catch the eye of someone intriguing, talented and resembling Johnny Depp in the looks department? Once I'd split up with Mr Offshore I thought to myself "this is it, this is where I'm going to meet him, this is where I'm going to meet my future rock star husband" I couldn't wait, I was so excited at the thought of what could be waiting for me in North London. I'd almost forgotten the real reason I was there, to celebrate Mr Writer's novel being published.

And what am I doing now? I'm bloody well sitting here thinking about the fact that I can't wait to see Mr Rockstar on Saturday night when I get back. This isn't right. This wasn't my plan. It would've all been ok if it hadn't been for that pesky Vodka...

I’ve been thinking a lot about that word I mentioned during Valentine’s weekend, you know, the “L” one? Perfectly apt for the occasion albeit it between the throwing up sessions but hardly the right timing seeing as Mr Rockstar and I had only been seeing each other for 3 weeks.

I’d previously told him that I don’t do “I love yous”, that he would be waiting a long time until he heard those words from me. Deep down I suspect this was an attempt at trying to appear cool and hoping that in turn he would go out of his way to make me fall in love with him. Men always like a challenge. It would seem though, that all he had to do was ply me with Vodka and red wine. I’m so easy……

Evie didn't help matters either. Bounding into the room last weekend singing "Love is in the Air" while drawing an imaginary heart with her hands she stopped to shout "my Mum fancies you" to Mr Rockstar. Damn, she's sharp for an 8 year old! In true childish manner I replied "no I don't!" To which Evie retorted "yes you do, you love him". Ok, so not only had I drunkenly told Mr Rockstar that I was falling in love with him now Evie was adding her tuppence worth. Suddenly I was no longer her mother, I was the child in the playground that she was teasing, except that there was no bike shed for me to run and hide behind. I chose to do what I always do when she says something that I'm not ready to deal with or don't want to answer. I pretended I couldn't hear her and changed the subject.

The problem is though, when it's just yourself sitting on a train, no matter how hard you try you can't ignore your thoughts. No amount of searching for leopard print fur coats on Ebay will help disperse the little heart shaped thought bubbles in your head. I feel slightly overcome with all this, can I really be in love so soon?
Monday, 15 February 2010
Somewhere along the lines God or whoever is up there, decided that regardless of the fact I was a romantic I didn't deserve to have an easy ride when it came to love.

Mr Rockstar and I had successfully achieved 2 sleepovers without Evie being any the wiser. It did mean setting my alarm clock at a ridiculous hour so that he could sneak out of the flat/my bed to get back to Glasgow for work but in a way, the sneaking about added to the excitement.

However, this weekend was Valentine's weekend and we were going to be spending a whole 3 days, 2 nights together. This is the first Valentine's that I've spent with a boyfriend (yes, it would appear that I now have a boyfriend!) for, well, a very long time. I suspect the last person that I spent the supposedly most romantic day of the year with, would have been Evie's Dad.

On Saturday I picked up not just Mr Rockstar from the train station but also a massive bunch of flowers, gorgeous flowers not your traditional roses. That's good, he'd put some thought to that. Then it was off up north to drop Evie with her half sister and then my mum for the weekend while Mr Rockstar and I spent some quality time together.

We arrived at Mr Rockstar's Dad's house which was to be our base for the weekend. A beautiful cottage right on the seafront. There was a roast cooking and drink was soon flowing. But as I said earlier, life is never straight forward for me and the first mistake of the evening I made was to say "no" to a glass of wine and "yes" to a vodka and tonic. You see, when you have a glass of wine you can see exactly the measure you have. When someone hands you a spirit that they've poured you have no idea. I'm not a big spirit fan so thought that I would be able to judge how strong it was, that was mistake number 2. What I had forgotten was that the reason I had started drinking vodka and tonic wasn't just because I was fed up with the boozy blues associated with gin but that vodka is practically tasteless in tonic.

But I was having a big roast dinner with my drink so I would be fine - wouldn't I? I'm sure I only had 2 glasses of Vodka and a couple of glasses of red wine, this would be later disputed.

I felt great that evening, good food, good company and for once I was totally relaxed. I found myself constantly eyeing up Mr Rockstar, thinking about how often he made me feel like my heart might just burst out of my chest.

So I am sure that you can picture the scene later on that evening when Mr Rockstar and I went for a "romantic" midnight walk along by the seafront and the little cottages that bordered it. By now it was officially Valentine's morning and I'd obviously decided it was time to be romantic, vodka induced romantic. I wrapped my arms around Mr Rockstar's neck and hung from him like some mad monkey when suddenly I came out with it, "I think I'm falling in love with you", closely followed by the even more romantic line, "oh my god, I think I'm going to be sick". If I wasn't being romantic enough by throwing up in some poor neighbour's bush, the added "oh my god, I'll probably shit myself now" was right up there with Romeo and Juliet. I was later told that I repeated this 3 times, it was obviously a genuine concern. Jesus Christ, who was this person? How did I go from telling Mr Rockstar that I thought I was falling in love with him to being someone who could not control her bodily functions? After I managed to gain some composure between sobbing and apologising for throwing up we continued our walk.

We decided to sit on a bench in front of the sea and I was sick again, this time hitting my favourite flatties. I barely wear these outside if it looks like it might rain and now I was showering them with the contents of my stomach. Apparently I then passed out with my head on Mr Rockstar's lap for half an hour while we were sitting on the bench. He covered me with his jacket and only woke me up to go back inside when the cold became too much to bear.

So we both returned into the warmth with our backsides soaking. No I didn't shit myself as promised, it had been raining and the bench had been wet. By the time Mr Rockstar returned to the bedroom with a glass of water I had passed out in my bra and thong. Think of that episode of Gavin & Stacey where Stacey is sharing a bed with Nessa, the night before they journey to London to meet Gavin for the first time and you get the idea or just how attractive I looked.

The next morning when I woke up I felt utterly embarrassed, thankfully I didn't feel hungover and I hadn't been sick in bed. As memories of the night started to float back into my head with the help of Mr Rockstar's recollection I cringed.
He laughed. "It wasn't that bad, you were only sick a little". What Mr Rockstar didn't know was that I had a total fear of being sick in front of people or in public. Then I suddenly remembered something else.
"Oh my god, you held my hair back. You held my hair back while I was being sick".

Sometimes it just takes someone to hold your hair back when you're being sick to make you realise that Valentine's Day is about so much more than just roses and chocolates.
Friday, 12 February 2010
I have to say, Mr Rockstar has been playing the dating game very well. He doesn’t continually send me texts throughout the day nor does he feel the need to phone me every night although this may have something to do with the lack of credit on his phone. He is keeping me interested, always a good thing. I told him when we spent last Wednesday evening together that I thought it was great that he didn’t feel the need to phone me every night.

I’d met him at the train station after my all day meeting and we decided to just head back to mine with a take away and wine. I suggested we watch one of my favourite films, Singles. I thought we could continue our trip down memory lane and reminisce about the grunge days gone by.

I love this film. I love the music in it. I love Matt Dillon’s hopeless wannabe rock star character but most of all I love that it reminds me of a time when I didn’t have a care in the world (apart from which boy I was going to date if my diaries are anything to go by). I remember at 17 thinking that if I died, I would die happy because I had achieved everything that I had wanted to achieve in my little life. I had been to Glastonbury, had lost my virginity, got stoned, been drunk and had performed in a local rock band. Those were my aspirations as a 17 year old and I was content with my lot. Life was so much simpler then, I’m not so easily pleased now.

As we watched the film I could tell that Mr Rockstar had picked up on my adoration for it and possibly something more.

“You’ve so based your life on this film.” He said to me smirking.
I looked at him, laughing. At 17 that’s exactly how I wanted my life to pan out. I wanted to be hanging around budding musicians in coffee bars in Seattle in my 20s looking for love. It didn’t turn out like that of course. In my 20s I had been up to my eyes in dirty nappies, trying to grasp the notion that I was now a mum and I had a little life to support.

Before I could respond to Mr Rockstar’s comment one of the main characters in the film turned to her new boyfriend with the words “…, I think it’s great that you don’t feel you have to phone me all the time”. We both laughed. Maybe I had picked up something subconsciously from that film. Ok, so maybe I wasn’t in Seattle, but I was hanging around with a budding musician and I was still looking for love. The question was, was I still single?
Friday, 5 February 2010
After managing to convince Mr Offshore to see a therapist regarding his jealousy he suddenly informed me after the first meeting that his shrink thought I had a strong attachment with my past and for some reason there was a need for me to keep in touch with ex boyfriends. This was bad according to his shrink. It was unnatural. They were like individual comfort blankets, I had to keep close to get me through life.

Some people live in the past. I like to think that I’m not one of those people. I try to use my experiences, good or bad from the past to push me forward, to aspire for better things. To remind myself that if I got through crap times before, I can again. After all, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Of course that’s all good and well unless you have a box of diaries sitting in your airing cupboard ranging from your early teens into your late 20s.

Last night it suddenly dawned on me that my diaries might hold a few answers as to what had gone on between Mr Rockstar and I back in 1994. Our memories of events were both pretty jaded and my diary seemed to reflect this with the words “I was completely wasted” being used on more than one occasion around that period. I thought it was fairly likely that he would be mentioned as there have been 3 re-occurring themes throughout all my diaries..... men, being unhappy with my figure and never being cool enough. I actually gave up my diary writing last year because it suddenly dawned on me that after 18 years I was still spouting the same old shit.

I reached for the box and located my diary of 1994 near the bottom. I slowly turned the pages many of which had come away from the binding and there was the first mention of him. I'm discussing how much I fancy his friend who I've seen round at his, that he's "my stereotypical guy, 70s in appearance, funny, long hair...." Bugger, I had hoped I would be mentioning Mr Rockstar in better circumstances. As I read on, I also discover that I have a boyfriend while I'm writing all this. Not just any boyfriend, the boy I lost my virginity to. It appears that I'm losing interest in him, already at 17 I'm asking my boyfriend to get a grip and grow up, some things never change.

A couple of entries later and there is Mr Rockstar again, ah, things are happening now, apparently it wasn't all me, he started it by holding my hand. Then outside the pub he kisses me, "God, he kisses so passionately it's a kind of kiss that should be in a film or on TV. Tomorrow I'm going to tell Jamie I don't want..." But wait, what's this, another boyfriend? I honestly didn't think I had so many boyfriends back then - what a hussy. It would seem that I also repay Mr Rockstar's passionate kissing by calling him a "user". I'm not liking my 17 year old self very much at the moment and it only gets worse. After snogging the face of Mr Rockstar I finally get the courage to dump the aforementioned Jamie only to phone Mr Rockstar's friend a couple of days later. "I hate fancying people, it depresses me." I was bloody depressing me...

The rest of the entries consist of me trying to get together with the friend, and telling Mr Rockstar that I knew "what he was up to, that he was using me". Except on one particular night I find out that he hasn't been using me, it had all been a pack of lies fed to me by my cherry picking ex boyfriend. Suddenly it becomes clear that I have really hurt Mr Rockstar's feelings (so perhaps I did have a heart back then?). Oh hold on, further down the page it looks like I've decided that as I'm drunk I may as well snog the friend anyway! Fast forward a week and I'm eating humble pie, the friend hasn't lived up to my expectations and I can't stop thinking about Mr Rockstar........and Scott! What?? Is it possible that I can add another guy into this tangled web of teenage lust? Apparently so.

The last entry involving Mr Rockstar ended the way it had all started, with him holding my hand. We never kissed that night at the party or saw each other again until the funeral of his band mate some years later.

As I closed the first chapter on Mr Rockstar and I, I felt thoroughly ashamed and mortified. I was really upset that I had treated him in that way all those years ago and that I had instantly judged him before getting to know him.

Sometimes we all need to take a trip down memory lane, to remind us of where we've been and where we want to go. That night I revisited the past and although I didn't enjoy it I learnt something. The fact that I got so upset over reading how I had treated Mr Rockstar proved one thing, this time the boy had got to me.
Thursday, 4 February 2010
Frustration features quite heavily in my life. You can be fairly restricted in what you can do socially when you live on your own with a child and when it comes to dating, your life can be a logistical nightmare.

I knew that I wanted to see Mr Rockstar again after our date on Saturday night. In fact while in the bar after dinner, I had agreed to move to North America and have mountain babies with him but then I blame that on his inability to remember that when I asked for a Cosmopolitan I didn't mean a Manhattan. Of course I drank it, after all, those cocktails are expensive and I didn't want him to think that I was ungrateful!

But it wasn’t too long before I began to think about all the planning and organising that goes into dating someone when you have a child. I can find it extremely stressful at times. From finding a babysitter to trying to work out when I will get the time to have a relaxing bath so that I can shave my legs in peace! My brother tries his best to help out but unfortunately appears to have the memory of a goldfish so often double books when I ask him if he can look after Evie and if I end up paying for a babysitter it tends to cost more than my night out and taxi home put together!

Then there's the outfit. It's not like I can afford to go out and buy something new every time I go on a date but I want to feel good about what I'm wearing so I usually rely on my trusty green River Island dress. This dress makes me feel good because it's a size 6. I'm not a size 6 by any means, I'm still not quite sure how I manage to fit into it (although it is very stretchy!) but for some reason having a single number on the label makes me feel good about myself. Tragic, I know. I blame society and all those "Yummy Mummies".

The run up to our second date on the Wednesday night proved stressful as at the last minute on Tuesday night my brother had been in touch to say that he was going to be unavailable to babysit. I already had the issue of trying to catch a train to an all day meeting which was due to start at 9 am while also trying to get Evie to school on time, I didn't need the added stress of trying to find a new babysitter. The added difficulty I had was that I wasn't going to be back from my meeting until after 6 pm meaning I'd be too late to pick up Evie from after-school club. As luck would have it and thanks to a very kind parent, Evie managed to go back to her friend's house to stay the night and be dropped off at school the next morning.

Everything was sorted and once I got to the meeting (albeit 45 minutes late) I felt that everything was under control until I remembered one thing, Mr Rockstar knew that Evie was out all night, what if he wanted to stay over? Was I ready to enter the next stage of complicated single mum dating - the sleep over?


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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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