Confusion.

As I sit here, pondering the failures and successes of my life thus far, as I tend to do when I'm terribly bored and similarly un-motivated to do anything about it, it has occurred to me that I have been complicating things unnecessarily, particularly when it comes to my love life (or more specifically, the lack of one).  While it is certainly true that I suffer from anxiety, mild depression and low self-esteem, and that they have impeded what progress I might have made socially if I were of a 'normal' disposition, (if there is such a thing as 'normal' nowadays), shrink wrapping the problem has only made it seem worse than it really is.  There is one obvious, divinely simple explanation for my perpetually static relationship status.

Confusion. 

I'd love a boyfriend.  Having someone around who shares my refreshingly loud and inappropriate sense of humour, who isn't afraid to disagree with me, and who can keep up the same mental and physical pace as I do would be delightful. 

But then...

I don't want a boyfriend.  Having someone around who doesn't understand that I sometimes feel bombarded and need to be by myself, who isn't willing to concede defeat when I think they're wrong, (read: is just as stubborn as I am), and whose opinions and desires don't always coincide with mine would be irritating.

To summarise, I need someone who is loud and funny, but quiet and contemplative; sparky and confident, but contrite and humble; sharp and virile, but on my terms.  Confusing, isn't it?  The funny thing is, if I ever met a guy with the same set of requirements in a girlfriend, I'd think he was a spoilt, arrogant prick. 

But then...

...most of my boyfriends have been spoilt, arrogant pricks. 

If someone could please explain the Darwinian cock-up that is my mind, before my head explodes, I'd sure appreciate it.



       

Carelessly Selfless.

The contents of today's post have been brewing for a couple of months, when the issue I'm going to tell you about first reared its ugly head.  The reason I haven't said anything until today is that the person at the centre of it all is a friend, a very new friend who I've grown close to in a short amount of time and I did not want to jeopardise that by publicly airing my opinion on someone else's choices...until I remembered what a pseudonym was. 

Michelle and I first bonded over our similar experiences, with particular emphasis on bad relationships, so it was only natural that most of our conversations steered in that direction.  We are two very different people; I'm a thinker, she's a doer.  While I'm busy pondering the pros and con's of a decision, see: procrastinating, she has decided, acted and moved on.  It's a very admirable quality, and one she utilises to her friends advantage more than her own.  A word was all it took for her to deliver a weeks worth of groceries to an elderly neighbour who had run short, or babysit at a moments notice for a friend who didn't want her kids finding out about her new boyfriend just yet.  She also took my son out a few times to give me a sorely needed break when even his own father didn't offer.  In short, she is a wonderful, selfless person.  But being so altruistic as to ignore your own needs can be dangerous.

A couple of months ago, Michelle broke up with her boyfriend.  This guy was a moody, manipulative piece of work who isolated her from her friends and damn near put her into bankruptcy.  Making the break with him was just about the only thing she ever did for herself, and I was happy to see her finally living the carefree life to which she was more than entitled.  Then the phone calls started.  Hour after hour of messages ranging from eerily cheery to hostile were beginning to take their toll, although she was careful to put on a brave face.  She began to indulge him by talking to him for over two hours a day, reasoning that she didn't want to alienate him until he paid back all of the money he owed her, but that was an all too convenient fib that I don't think even she truly believed.  She was letting him down gently, attending to his precious mental health while her own psyche was becoming more and more fragile by the day.  He even intimated moving back into the house, and no amount of pleading from her friends could convince her to do what any other red-blooded wronged woman would have: change her phone number, change the locks and drop him like a piece of hot fat.  In the end, the catalyst for change sprang from a most unusual source: her phone company.

A three thousand dollar phone bill would be an effective enough laxative for a person whose finances were in good shape, but for someone whose debt could register on the Richter scale, it was the last straw.  Michelle was on the phone that very afternoon, making arrangements for an international student to come and stay with her, and is working out a debt repayment arrangement as we speak.  Whether or not she gets any money back from her ex syphon/boyfriend now is immaterial; she has her life back, and is taking care of the person who needed her most.

A conversation

My son came to me the other day and made a startling confession. 

'I don't want you to ever have a boyfriend, Mum.'

G is not one for pouring his heart out all that often, so I knew that it had taken a lot for him to admit this to me.  I also knew that if I wanted to delve any deeper into the issue, I would need to approach it very gingerly, because if he were to realise that I was questioning him, he would see it as an interrogation.  I would then loose his trust, and he would clam up altogether.  I even left him standing, because an invitation to sit down would mean one thing to him and one thing only: a Mum Talk.  Barely looking up from my laptop, I began my investigation.

'How come, Hun?' 

He shrugged and looked at his feet.  This one was going to be a revelation.

'Because you're my mum.  If I saw you doing all that lovey-dovey stuff, it'd make me uncomfortable.'

Big shocker there; no kid wants to see his mum kissing any bloke other than his dad.  I looked at him a bit longer before I resumed pretending to work. 

'I'd never do anything that made you uncomfortable, babe.  If and when I do get a boyfriend, I promise there will be no canoodling in front of you.'

He was silent for a few minutes.  Percolating things. 

'Mum?'

'Yeah, Hun?'

'It isn't just that that bothers me,' he said as he came over and sat next to me on the couch. 

I closed the lid to the laptop and steadied myself.  He had been the only man in my life for the better part of thirteen years, so the thought of his mum loving anyone other than him must have been too terrifying for words until now.  He was always there for me with an inappropriate joke when I was having one of my down days.  He was always the first person to kiss me good morning and the last person to kiss me goodnight.  He was the person on whom I could always count for unconditional love.  I, in turn, was the person who knew him better than he knew himself.  The person who would drop everything at a moment's notice to help him with his homework.  The person who put his needs and wants above anybody Else's.  His brow was furrowed with concentration; I could practically hear him mulling it all over. 

If I fell in love, everything would change; our television viewing habits, our living arrangements, and, most earth shatteringly, he would loose his position as number one guy in the family.  He had been storing this stuff for years, filling the shelves of his mind with angst and insecurity.  He was about to let it all out, clean house as it were, and I was the vessel into which he was going to pour everything.  Oh yes, I had been preparing for this day for some time.  I was ready for the angry tears, the wails of indignation.  As a mother, this was my time to shine.

'Baby, you know I could never love anyone as much as I love you, and that is never going to change.  The love between a mother and a child is different to the love between a man and a woman.  You know that, right?  I will always be there for you, boyfriend or no boyfriend, and if he doesn't understand that, then I won't make him a part of our lives.'

For a moment, he just stared at me.  Foolishly, I took his look of incredulity as confirmation that I'd made a connection.  My little boy had reached out to me in a time of personal crisis, and I pulled him up from the depths of despair.  Angelina Jolie might have half a football team for a family, but she had nothing on me. I was Super Mum!

'You're too old to have a boyfriend!  If my friends at school saw you, I'd die!'

All lesser beings bow before me.

The five best uses for a boyfriend.

Don't let the title mislead you; I am not saying I need a boyfriend; I'm a strong, capable woman who had no Daddy issues last time she checked, as I'm sure are you.  My motivation for writing this post was a conversation I had with my friend Tina shortly after she read 'Femmish to English.'  Ever the constructive critic, she looked up from her laptop screen with an expression eerily similar to the one on my Nan's face when I told her I was pregnant thirteen years ago. 

'You make fun of men too much; people will think you don't want a boyfriend.'

I think the little disclaimers I throw into my particularly ribald posts should suffice, but just in case they don't, here's another: my posts are written with my tongue firmly planted in my cheek, and are not meant to be taken as an indictment on mankind.  Guys, the world would be a much darker place without you.  I adore you all and always will.  To prove it, I have compiled a list of the top five best things about having a boyfriend.  As always, it is addressed to my fellow ladies, but you fellas will have the satisfaction of knowing that it was you I had in mind when I wrote it. 

1.  GETTING RID OF UNWANTED GUESTS.  Whether it's door-knockers strong arming you into changing utility providers, or little old ladies in hats trying to convince you that the afterlife is an exclusive nightclub where Jehovah is the bouncer, nothing ruins a girls Saturday more than intruders hell bent on making us see the error of our ways.  Cue the boyfriend!  Once he answers the door wearing nothing but a come-hither smile, the pests will run screaming down the driveway, stabbing at their eyes with their pens and praying for our souls.

2.  KEEPING THE COUCH WARM.  If your next significant other turns out to be a gamer, don't be tempted to donate his X-Box to the Salvation Army, or install a stripper pole in front of the TV to get his attention; take advantage of the situation!  How often have you sat down on the couch on a cold winters night, only to find it colder than a plastic Alaskan toilet seat?  Fear no more!  After a three or four hour Call of Duty marathon, your guy's backside will have generated enough heat for that couch to become an incubator for an ostrich egg!

3.  SHUTTING YOUR MOTHER UP.  Anyone who has read a little post I wrote about a month ago entitled 'My mother, my pimp,' and can identify will not need me to explain this one any further.

4.  TENSION RELIEF.  Whether you're angry at your boss, nervous about an upcoming traffic court appearance, or experiencing palpitations after a Johnny Depp movie marathon, having a boyfriend to come home to is a better relaxant than Valium and a whole lot more fun to take.  Oh yes; I went there.

5.  BIRTH CONTROL.  This might sound wacky, but bare with me.  If you don't wish to become a mother in the near future, being in a 'physically fulfilling' relationship will give you that much more incentive to be careful.  Unconvinced?  I have five words for you:  'Mummy, can I come in?'

Hopefully, that should go someway toward appeasing any of the male members of my readership I may have offended in previous posts.  If there are any pro-boyfriend advantages you think I've missed, leave them in the comments section, or Facebook, Tweet or Email them to me!