Archive | July, 2010

Crazy Gypsy Ladies II

21 Jul

As I mentioned before, I have a thing for gypsy ladies. (Not a ‘thing thing’…get your mind out of the gutter)

A very good friend of mine took me along to the mind body spirit festival shortly after my break-up.  I was walking around feeling okay about the world, (even after we had nearly lost each other in the car park – put two directionally challenged girls together and you get catastrophe!) until a wisened reiki practitioner grabbed me out of the crowd.

“Where’s the ring?” she asked (Great, do I have a sign on my forehead?)

” Ahh, it’s gone?” I replied as I swallowed back some tears

“Ahh love, that wasn’t meant for you, does that make you feel better?” (Does taking a shot of arsenic sound good right about now?)

“Don’t worry, the next one is the one” she said all knowingly and sauntered off

After this, I decided to go straight to the top…. I was convinced that obviously the psychic world wanted to talk to me…so I was finished with evil eye ladies and I was going to see Georgina Walker.

If you don’t know who Georgina Walker is then you obviously have absolutely no interest in anything psychically inclined…that and you probably don’t listen to 2day fm. (Not that that is a major atrocity by any stretch of the imagination)

Georgina Walker is an intuitive psychic that took me three months to book in for. The reason I was so keen on seeing her though, was the fact that she doesn’t use cards or any other form of tool to see the future. She basically just holds onto something you own, shuts her eyes and starts talking.

In the lead-up to my meeting with Georgina, I nearly made myself vomit.

What if she says:

  • I am going to be alone forever and own 42 cats?
  • My parents are going to knock down a wall between my bedroom and the room next door as they know i’ll be there for a really long time..?
  • I’m about to contract the Ebola virus?
  • I’ll lose all my money trusting a shonky but sexy property investor?
  • I’m irrefutably emotionally damaged never to love again (and believe me this one…I could  actually believe)

Anyhow, I used the GPS to drive all the way to Mona Vale. This is the equivalent of a normal person using only their sense of smell to navigate their way through the depths of the African Jungle, so you could say I was very proud of myself.

Standing outside the door, I prepared myself for the worst. I stood there, sweating with anxiety, praying to God that she had something good for me so I wouldn’t stop off on the way home at Ikea, and pick up cat litter trays on sale for $2.95 in preparation for my 42 new furry friends.

“Miss Procrastination” I heard from nowhere

oh wow, she was good….

Well actually she had just seen me waiting out the front from her balcony…but I was already impressed. (Yeah, you knew I was a sucker from my evil eye post…come on already)

I sat down, handed over my watch, said nothing, and she started talking at the speed of lightning.

“Foreign, you are going to get a foreign opportunity…don’t think you won’t get it..back yourself…you will” (Awesome!! 42 cats replaced with jet set lifestyle…hello!)

“You are going to Boston…yes you are in Boston, you may want to have a relationship with someone here, but you need to understand that he will always put his work first. If you decide to go there, you will need to entertain yourself” (No biggie here, I had to be my ex’s portable entertainment system for two years…I’m more than happy to only have to do it for myself for a change)

“You are going to be a WAG” (Hey Victoria Beckham…eat your heart out!!) at Epping Rugby Club…(BORING…Where is David Beckham in Epping? Where the hell is Epping anyway?)

“Your primary gift, is that you are inspirational” (Me 3, Assclown 0) You will be a mentor, and take on roles beyond your years, people will look up to you” ( I loved this so much, given one of the primary reasons I got kicked to the kerb was that I wasn’t inspirational…universe seems to think differently I see!)

This was all nice, but it didn’t really give me that feeling of…well…anything.

I handed over a photo of my ex, not talking about the relationship, just giving his first name and age.

“Unpredictable, oh dear so unpredictable, I can see one arm behind his back”

Hmm….maybe she was on the money…

“This guy is about to shock and disbelieve a lot of people, around something in September”

Okay, now she really was on the money…

“He is being taken off course, off track, I see tears…he knows what he is getting into though, he knows…he is being influenced by a pack of men, lots of male influence (does this go back to my father’s ‘likes to take it the other way’ theory?)

“I don’t know how you are involved, but however you are involved…you aren’t anymore”

No shit.

I sat there, and took it all in for a minute.  Georgina finally asked me “how do you know this man?”

I responded..”We were engaged”

She actually laughed. LAUGHED

“Oh no, bad match, bad match…he would have left you after a year or so anyway, even if you had gone down the aisle”


“There is someone else waiting for you” she said

Okay now this is where we get to the real deal, this is the stuff I wanted to hear. (please don’t say a cat named sylvester…please please please)

“oooh, he is so nice, so lovely, you are going to meet him in fourteen months”

Fourteen months!!!? Why so bloody long…..whhhhhhy?? (supposedly I need to find balance, rest and recovery)

“You won’t be alone for fourteen months – oh no, there will be men…” (Great, I am about to become a whore)

” But this one…he is like superman(does this mean he likes to wear his underpants on the outside of his trousers?)…everyone will be asking you..where did you find him?

“He is a banker (notice my winced expression after paying out afore-mentioned investment bankers) he has long arms (gumby?) and is incredibly well-travelled…(ghandi?) four or five years older than you, a real planner, an ex professional rower (god not the guy from the golden valley ad?) and supposedly six months after we have met he has decided I am it for him.

This is all going to happen by the time I am 32 supposedly.

I drove home feeling a lot better. And, I really hope she is right about superman, because to be honest I know I am supposed to be all enlightened by this ‘whole new world of single’ but I am starting to get a bit lonely, and I would like him to come and rescue me  real soon.


Joaquin Syndrome

20 Jul

Do you remember Joaquin Phoenix?

Remember how he was sexy, smooth, charismatic?

Huh? I hear you say…Isn’t Joaquin that hobo that looks like he has been living under a bridge smoking crack?

Ahh yes, but before Joaquin lost his shit, he was the business.

And so I started thinking, did Joaquin just wake up and loose a screw one day, or was he always hiding his penchant for trucker beards and a clothing line directed by mugatu for his derelict diffusion line?

Can people really hide themselves and their true nature from everyone? Maybe even themselves?

When my relationship imploded, it was the least likely thing that anyone was expecting. Apart from myself, everyone else also went into mass shock.

(Cue disturbed relative) “Nooo, but you guys were so in love, and he was always going on about you, you never even had a fight”

(Cue work colleague of Assclown) “I don’t understand, he paraded you around work all the time, he showed everyone the ring, he was so excited about the wedding, I just don’t get it”

(Cue freaked out mutual friend) “I’ve always thought of him as a chameleon anyway, we’re going to ditch him”

Hmm, the mutual friend had stumbled upon something (and secretly made me very happy, Me 2, Assclown 0). Maybe my ex was really the hobo Joaquin underneath? Maybe he really did want to just bust out a homeless man look instead of trying to rock Tom Ford?

In my search for the answers, I went on a hunt down for personality disorders that matched this chameleon type. I’ve discovered in my single state, that I like to psycho-analyse a whole lot. (Ask me about my four and half year relationship with an untreated borderline personality disorder, no really just ask me!)

Given I have demonstrated my tenacity for attracting fruitcakes, I wondered…what was it this time, bi-polar, borderline, narcissistic, delusional?

Ha, no no…It just turns out that these circus freaks all come from the same show, and they like to perform here at:

While I abhor the name of the site, (I mean really, wouldn’t ‘men who like to lie…ALOT’ be a more fitting and fun title?) it turns out that Vicki Stark, the psychologist who wrote the book and accompanying web-site was really onto something.

Turns out that these guys are regular jekkyl and hydes, they are so good at lying that they can basically compartmentalise whole sections of their personalities, they have a tendency to live double lives, but do it so well that they can do it for years on end without ever raising suspicion. Freaky huh?

Then randomly after performing the role of ‘perfect partner’ who adores you and never made you question them in the slightest, they just snap and decide they can’t live their lie anymore, and they are out the door faster than a fat kid running through a donut factory.

So, one day you are dating smooth Joaquin who is obsessed with you, and the next morning you notice a strong odour of garbage and realise that his hobo brother is in bed next to you instead. (and he’s holding onto your arm….and you’ve tried to chew it off in a panic and you cant..okay okay I digress)

That’s what basically happened to me, and that’s what happened to all these other women (and a few unsuspecting men as well). They’re told a multitude of dumb reasons for serious break-ups and it’s all done in a very disturbing fashion.

Normally very casually over dinner, or perhaps while shopping for groceries, “hey honey, feel like some fish tonight” ” Sure babe, can you add a side of divorce to that as well?”

It’s been disturbing reading, but weirdly satisfying to know that I am not alone in this circus freak show break up.

The problem is though, that you have to realise that super hot and smooth Joaquin didn’t just have a fall out with the good people over at Gillette, he was just a figment of the hobo’s imagination.

He never really existed…and the sad thing is neither did my relationship.

Mid Week Let’s Get Deep Moment: The Wing Man

20 Jul

I’ve normally always had a ‘wing man’ that’s why I have never been single.

In my earlier days, instead of dealing with issues in a relationship, I just tended to move on to the wing man.

The wing man, was the guy in waiting. He would tell you how wonderful you were, and ask you when it was that you were going to wind up with him instead of the current assclown you were dating. It was superficial and a massive ego stroke to say the least, but I was young and I never realised the reason I needed a wing man, was because my actual relationship had hit the skids, and I was just too afraid to let go of it.

When I met my ex, I decided to give up the wing man concept. I decided that he was worth it. Meeting him, changed me. I hadn’t met someone for a long time that instinctively I knew I had to be with, until meeting him.

I was going in without a safety net.

Falling in love like that happens only a few times in your life. When you find it, you have to grab it and run with it.

There was a moment, when the relationship turned to reality. Where I realised inside, that he wasn’t the one for me. It’s always the same, when you turn from being a secure and confident girl, to an insecure mess, because you realise that the person you love, isn’t capable of loving you the way you need them to.

But like any hopeless romantic will tell you, it’s hard to let it go even when it is clear that the love isn’t what you expect.

You realise that someone is trying to control you, bend you, and your emotions, and you turn yourself into someone you don’t really know to please them. The love has become conditional. But you only ever see it with the benefit of hindsight.

And this time, when it ended, I didn’t have a wing man to fall back on. This is the first time, I have ever had to honestly stop and look at all my relationships to find the patterns, and see what was missing.

How do you even begin?

Funnily enough, it started with the discovery of Edward Cullen. (Oh yes, I know what you are thinking…you and every other thirteen year old…but seriously)

One night, while I was laying in my bed, crying for the umpteenth time, I decided to find out what all the fuss was about and rented twilight.

Even though I agree, Edward is the most stunning creature I have ever laid eyes on…(me and one billion other females worldwide sigh collectively) I realised what the answer and the attraction was.

Edward would give his life for Bella.

I’ve only had that type of love once. And I threw it away. And I have regretted it, for a long time since. That type of selflessness, where, when you went through tough times, it was his and your collective strength that got you through.

He wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but I never questioned his love. And apart from that one true love, everything else that has followed has somehow in its form turned out to be superficial. Even the man I was going to marry, showed a love that was only surface deep.

So I got to thinking, if someone proves themselves to clearly be unworthy of your love, no matter how much you love them, and you become aware of it, you need to learn to pull the rip cord and get out of there. Stop fooling yourself, that they can go back to the way that they were, or believe they can be the person you want them to be.

Because a person that really loves you, doesn’t need to question it, they will go through the ups and downs of life with you, without hesitating, without punishing, without saying ‘you owe me’. And you know, that you would give the same to them without a second thought.

They wont belittle the fact that you haven’t had your hair done, or that you are directionally challenged. That you care little for numbers, and they won’t care if you have put on a couple of kilos, or your hair line isn’t blended in properly with your make-up.

When you start changing to please someone, then you need to realise, that it isn’t real anymore and you may have had love, but it moved out awhile ago.

And when you find a person to love the you that you love, and you love them just the same, well, that’s when you’ll probably really know that you have found ‘the one’.

And there won’t be any more questions, because all the answers will be standing in front of you in the form of each other

Crazy Gypsy Ladies

20 Jul

This blog is meant to be all about the new things that I have found out about myself while being single for the first time in thirteen years. Some of the things I have learnt have just been reminders of a girl that I thought I left behind a long time ago, and some things are completely new and surprise me everyday.

One of the remarkable things that I found after being jilted half way down the aisle, is my bizarre attraction to crazy gypsy ladies.

Yep, I’ve found out that when you are left without a sound reason, you will go looking for answers in all sorts of places.

The night I turned up at my parents house, tears streaming down my face, face contorted with emotion, my mum looked at me and stated quite simply amongst a string of profanities:

“Someone must have given you the eye”

Ahh the eye….In my misguided notion of ‘having it all’, I had completely forgotten about the evil eye.

Now if you are of Mediterranean or Arabic decent then you will know all about the eye. If you don’t, you can wiki it here:

A bottle of wine later, some Valium, a few hurried phone calls made by my mother, and I had the phone number of an ‘evil eye’ practitioner in my hand.

“Call her” my mum said, “What have you got to loose?” (How about my mind?….)

A few days later I found myself driving out to the back of nowhere. And I literally mean NOWHERE, I am completely directionally challenged, so I can’t even tell you where I am, when I know where I am going, let alone when I went to this place.

I trudged up the stairs of the small apartment. I was scared senseless. What was I doing here? This was stupid, silly…delusional…

“hello” the small Arabic woman said

I walked into her apartment and sat down at the table. She had an interpreter there, because she didn’t speak English, and tears were still streaming down my face. What the hell was I doing here?

A box of tissues magically appeared along with a set of cards. My hands were rattling as I tried to shuffle the cards proficiently. (I’ve always been crap at shuffling, how do people do it? Particularly in that artful way where they flick the cards together and look like they own their own casino in Monaco?)

“Ahh” she sighed “He loves you, but he is a liar”

“He is being pulled away by something….you don’t have the eye, but he does”. Silently, I was quite happy about this revelation, I mean at least I wasn’t the one that was going to be damned for all eternity under the curse. Yay! Me 1, AssClown 0

“He will do this to everyone, but deep down he is a good man, and he will be back for you in four days”

The relief that flooded over me was surreal. Four days? I could wait four days, I mean this torture was nothing, if it was only for four days.

The little woman ran into another room and started concocting a series of herbs and spices (albeit, nowhere near as fine smelling as the colonels recipe) and wrapped them in alfoil.

“You must drive down to La Perouse beach today before sunset, swing your arm over your head three times and watch the alfoil package float out to the sea”

“Then you must burn these other herbs and spices throughout your house at exactly 9pm tonight, so that your father thinks you have lost your mind, and your brother flies back from Bangkok to personally escort you to a mental asylum”

Okay, so maybe she left that last bit out…but she did give me a couple of alfoil packages, an incense burner, and some Arabic text to repeat before I left the apartment $150 lighter.

“You’re going to have a dream tonight, you will have hot and cold flushes, when you have the dream, call me” she said as I walked out the door.

Fast Forward a few hours to crazy blonde girl standing on a cliff side, littering alfoil in the sea, muttering Arabic verses that she quite clearly cannot pronounce. It’s amazing nobody hauled me off right then and there really.

I drove back home hopeful, albeit questioning my sanity.

I burned my herbs at 9pm, my incense burner didn’t do the trick though and I had to hold onto a piece of burning alfoil. Try explaining finger burns to your father, who just believes that your ex “likes to take it the other way”. (Yes, more on ‘awkward parent conversations’ later)

But I guess, sometimes it doesn’t matter what you believe in, or what herbs you throw out into the sea, or burn…because I never did have that dream, and I never did call the little woman back.

I figured later that night, that if the universe wanted us to be together, then somehow it would happen. (Maybe that was just my excuse for not being able to follow instructions with said herbs in burner, but hey it got me into a much needed sleep state)

And, I guess the universe was thinking the same, because I never heard from him in four days, in fact he never actually ever called me again

Who’s up for a cup of loco?

20 Jul

So, I sent my first post to a very good friend of mine N, who in turn sent it to a relation of hers who is a writer.

“Yeah it’s good” he said, “but where’s the ‘juice?'”.

Meh…I’ve always been impartial to juice. I hate the floaty bits that get stuck in my teeth, I am one of those freaks, that ‘pulp free’ juice was made for. (Don’t shake your head at me)

To be honest, I really didn’t want to put the ‘spices’ as I used to call pulp as a child, into this blog. I mean really, who wants to hear some girl go on about her ex. How well…jaded and very cliche.

But really, I should have realised, that no-body cares for a story without the spice. How can I talk about this whole new world of singledom without filling people up on a cup of my tawdry past juice.

I hope you’re thirsty, because you’re about to get a mouthful.

“What happened between you and your partner” he said.

The answer is:

….Beats me

Seriously, I haven’t got any real idea.

The ‘love of my life’ just so happened to be planning the honeymoon with me on the day that he unilaterally tore my heart still beating out of my chest.

He came home, asked me if I had eaten dinner, and then blurted out ” I love you, but I’m not in love with you”. Yes, that old chestnut.

To say I went into shock would be…..well an understatement.

I asked for reasons, and to be honest I have never gotten a straight answer. It changed every time I spoke to him.

Some of my personal favourites though are listed below for your reading pleasure:

  • “I didn’t cry when I proposed to you, so that means it’s not right” Yes, I suppose you are right and a + b = emotional retardation.
  • “But I really wanted it to be real” (cue psychadelic music & the consumption of too many illicit drugs) WTF
  • “I haven’t loved you for eighteen months anyway” Really? You could of fooled me assclown, a mere six months before you were down on your knees asking me to be your wife, how could I have been so stupid to not see the signs?!
  • “I don’t find you inspirational” Sorry, I forgot this was part of my job description. I’ll have to remember to put ‘climb mount Kilimanjaro’ on the list for next time to ensure a happy and successful relationship.

With these types of insights straight from the cocktail can of crazy, I have not been able to really come to a conclusion about why my partner and I are no longer together. I am sure that he has his real reasons, but I know that I will never probably find out what they are. Well…not from him anyway.

Right, think we’ve all overdosed on the juice now. Time to get back to my new life. Edward Cullen is waiting for me upstairs.

What is this blog thing?

20 Jul

So I started a blog, how do you start a blog? What do you write about in a blog? Will anyone even read this blog?

Do you know how hard it is to even find a decent name for a blog?! What, is there an underground community of bloggers out there that I have obviously just been ignoring for the last couple of years while I sip my decaf skim lattes every morning, meanwhile they prepare to take over the city in an anti-blog revolt?

I obviously know close to nothing about blogs, (yes surprising given my occupation) and a mere four months ago I would have said my life was too stock standard to even write a decent blog.

There I was, happily living in my chic inner city apartment and preparing a wedding to make the pages of every bridal magazine in the country. I thought I had it all, the guy, the pad, the newly acquired dream job, the body of Gisele Bundchen …okay okay…massive exaggeration…I digress….

You could say I was well…happy, turns out that the supposed love of my life, was well…not.

Let’s spare everyone the messy details, but when the supposed ‘man of my dreams’ unceremoniously and very unexpectantly dropped a bomb on me one average Tuesday night, my life became a little bit more interesting and well…blog worthy.

After single handedly cancelling a wedding, removing all items from said chic apartment, and moving back to the suburbs courtesy of mum and dad, I spent a good couple of months crying, reading self-help books that well meaning friends bought for me (my favourite titled…’I can mend your broken heart’, sent all the way from London…it made me vomit just a little bit in my mouth when I saw that title…but I still love you A…bless) and trying to work out the reasons why people do dumb stuff. Then I got jack of all that….

And decided to write a blog.

I’ll have to admit to you that I am a girl who has never been single. I started dating when I was sixteen, and well let’s just say that for the last thirteen years I have been single a total of five weeks.

Yep, this is a whole new world for me, and admittedly I am doing it ass about face. I mean really I should have done the whole ‘free to be me’ thing when I was in my teens and early twenties.

People are telling me that ‘this is awesome’. You’re finally going to be able to:

  • Sleep with all those random bankers that always tried to pick you up at Friday night drinks (the joys…I can hardly breathe I am so excited…not)
  • Now that you live back at home, spend all your money on insanely priced Viktor & Rolf handbags, Chanel make-up, trips to Paris and anything else your heart desires (can already tick this one off the list…but will keep it and keep adding items guilt free)
  • Continue to build your file of drunken cab stories to share with your grandchildren
  • Stop pretending that you want to trial a brunette hair colour when really you have always always always been a blonde
  • Write a blog, get famous, and wait for someone to make a movie out of your life (By the way Kate Hudson has already signed on for part 1 of this epic saga, Robert Pattinson will play my love interest…more on that later)

It sounds like fun I guess, not the way I would have dreamed though. I would have given up everything to spend the rest of my days with someone I thought was my best friend.

I’d always pictured us sipping Pimms on the porch with our grandchildren screaming out something delightful like “hey grandma, I’m all jacked up on mountain dew!”

But sometimes, you can’t plan your life out the way you want it to, and sometimes even when you think everything is sorted it’s well…not.

And in the words of one of my favourite ladies Carrie Bradshaw, I found myself lamenting over the following words of advice that she somehow had written especially for me right now.

“As we drive along this road called life, occasionally a gal will find herself a little lost. And when that happens, I guess she has to let go of the coulda, shoulda, woulda, buckle up and just keep going.”

And so, that’s what I plan to do, and here I am, and this is my blog.