Dear NML - Oh advice you say

I was going to blog about something completely different tonight, which would probably include the fact that whilst delirious on Sudafed last night, I kept having weird dreams about Greavsie's profile image, or how I panicked and thought that I had a weird growth inside my belly button but it was a piece of rice cake that I'd been eating whilst lying on the couch.....

However, I've decided to talk about that grand 'ole thing we call 'advice'. I was recently asked whether I took every comment to heart and did what my readers suggested and I told him that with all due respect, that would be more than a touch difficult, because I'd be trying to go in several directions at once. The same person asked me if I wrote a post looking for advice and I said, generally no, although I often get it and it's fine, good actually. I have whole hearted respect for people who read this blog but I don't think that because someone reads it that I must do what they advise. I don't expect people to agree with me, and don't mind if people disagree as long as they don't say something that is hateful, racist, or just plain unnecessary and nasty. Part of why we comment on each others blogs is because something touches us, inspires us, angers us, and in turn we give advice based on our own experiences or who how we'd like to live our lives in an ideal world.

How many times have you heard people say that they're great at giving advice, just not taking it or living by their own advice?

In the 'real world' many friends ask me for advice and trust me for it, and many have tried to give advice about for instance, The Contender or Male Best Friend. I do my best to take everything on board, but I also have to try to follow my gut, even if in the face of the outcome it turns out that it was the wrong decision. Ultimately, I know that it was my decision to make. I only have myself to consider, no kids, so you take a few risks from time to time.

With The Contender my gut said that I didn't like what was happening between us after a few weeks, but I listened to the advice in my comments and from people in the 'real world' and gave it a go for a few more months. Now it turned out that my gut was right and I should have spoken up in the early days, but who knows how I may have handled it? Isn't it a case of shoulda, woulda, coulda? Plus it didn't actually do me any harm for a while to go down the slow route, something that had never happened with any of the speedy Gonzales exes that I had.

I have friends that I have told till I'm blue in the face to be careful of whatever guy/girl they are with, and many continue on anyway. Often when it's over, they'll say 'Oh you were right' but it's not about being right, it's about being a friend. However, one of the things that I have learnt, is that there comes a time when you're blue in the face from reiterating the same thing or variances of it, and you realise that it's not your duty to make that person change and they will continue on regardless. The person has to want to do it.

Even if they don't want to do it, sometimes they need the space to process their thoughts, safe in the knowledge that there are people out there that will support them whatever their decision. Often this in itself can help them to make a better decision. You can usually decipher the friends who you need to stay in the background and let them know you're there being supportive and there are the friends that you're right up there beside, holding their hand, telling them "He's a wanker/she's a cow" or whatever the problem is, even though it's very possible that they will go straight back to that particular wanker/cow. People have to find their own way to the same conclusion. And it's not a given that we are always right. It is not up to any of us to categorically decide that someone will be miserable or have their heart broken etc, even if we believe or know it to be likely. It's as if we're saying that the person is too silly to eventually figure it out their own way. One persons happiness is another one's misery. I know people content to be the other woman (and I mean really content) but I'm not. I know people who are happy and poor, but I suspect that I wouldn't be.

Even with general life, such as work, or family, I am a firm believer in bringing about change in areas of your life that you are discontent with. It is all too easy to sit back and say repeatedly how much you hate work, or how X is annoying the shit out of you. Many people find it easier to gripe about something than actually do anything about their particular problem. It's not always easy to bring about change but moving towards it, trying to resolve it, will eventually bring about real, tangible, positive change. I hate this 'condition' (I should just say disease) and despise what sometimes feels like robbed 'youth', and no matter how much I may rant (and God knows I do have a rant from time to time), every single bloody day I'm looking to do something, anything that takes me forward and helps me overcome it. It would be all too easy to sit back, go on long term sick and accept my 'fate' but that bullshit's for other people, not me. Do any of us want to remain on pause or taking one step forward, two steps back?

I don't make any apologies for who I am because I think that once you start to do that, it can only go downhill. I'm human, I f*ck up, I make mistakes, and I eat, sh*t and breathe like everyone else, although I obviously shit roses! I loved someone for a very long time who tells me he loves me but stays with his girlfriend. I made mistakes but I have no regrets because I did what I wanted to do as opposed to what someone told me not to. I shed some bloody tears during that time, but it was also brilliant at others. I walked away from a difficult situation with countless advice tips ringing in my ears, but the decision that I made was mine and mine only. It had to be or who knows how much I would have doubted myself and found myself back at square one.

You may wonder what brought this on. Let's just say that I read something that really got my back up on another blog. It's not the first time, but something must have snapped. Blogging and commenting is not about casting judgement on people. I'm a big girl and the great thing about having a blog is that you can share your idiotic thoughts with people, or share a dilemna, and they can offer you solutions or gems of thought that people who've known you for ages wouldn't do. Sometimes people will disagree with you and tell you as much, but that's part of it. And just in case anyone is in doubt, advice whether you want to call it solicited or unsolicited, is part of having a comments box and is more than welcome here. Lots of people just comment on the posts without offering advice and that's good too!

Rant over!

Say a prayer for everyone in the US that has survived and the many that have died as a result of the devastation of Hurricane Katrina.

Mama's Gone

My mum left last night after a very fun and memorable long weekend. I actually missed her around my flat today, which she was surprised to hear! I think it's great that as you get older you appreciate your mum for who she is, rather than who'd you'd like her to be. Gone are the fixations on the the mum she could have been if only she had done 'this' and instead in place is a quiet acceptance of a nutty character.

She's thoroughly entertaining and incredibly cheeky and makes no apologies for it. We went to a local pub yesterday with the girls (B & MB) and within 30 minutes of sitting down, my mum was teaching a posh boy how to say Jamaican swearwords such as 'raasclaat' and 'bumbaclaat'. This guy would be what you'd consider to be a complete toff and he name dropped about being the illegitimate grandson of a famous British actor, which turned out to be fodder for my mum to take the piss out of him. When they both started singing Jimmy Cliff: Harder They Come, B, MB and I were crying with laughter and my mum had quite a few onlookers listening in fascination. It helps that we were sitting at a pub that is dedicated to reggae.

On Saturday we hung out with the Bro, Welsh Boy and Welsh Boys Bro. Everyone got steadily drunk whilst I remained stone cold sober. The Welsh Boys told Tommy Cooper jokes which had me choking on my juice and my Bro did the usual trick of trying to convince my mum that Welsh Boy (his flatmate) is a racist. It's this ongoing joke for months now which gets more and more outrageous with Bro and Welsh Boy competing to tell tales, which if I told them on here they'd turn the air blue. My Bro almost caused my mum to fall off her seat when he told her the true story of being invited out to a work dinner and being introduced to a German man called 'Coon'. He was convinced that the man was being offensive and they eventually managed to placate him and convince him that it was indeed the mans name.

The biggest revelation of the weekend was the discovery that Bro, who has burst his knee cartilage, fractured his leg and broken his toes as a result of a drunken attempt to climb through a window when he'd forgotten his house key, didn't actually need to climb through the window. Welsh Boy was actually inside the flat but his phone was on voicemail when Bro tried to call him. However, if Bro had rung the doorbell like a normal person, he would have answered the door. Yes people, it's true - Pressing the doorbell was an option, the window was unnecessary. Bro said it just didn't occur to him because he was blind drunk. Fortunately after 2 months and many cancelled trips and nights out, he is almost ready to come off the crutches.

I got up this morning and felt rather confused at not being woken up by mum faffing in the kitchen or by her incesstant, yet cute ramblings about whether she's bald, whether her hair looks nice and my weight loss since finishing the steroids and how pleased she is with it. The washing up wasn't done and she wasn't cleaning the stuff that I had cleaned in preparation for her cleaning them.

My plan was to do so much today but I actually didn't do very much. I woke up at 11am and by 1pm was fast asleep after taking tablets for a bad headache. I suspect that I may be coming down with something and have felt woeful all day, which is pretty crap as I should have been enjoying my last day of the bank holiday weekend. Instead it's been spent in a cloud of dizziness and sleep. Oh dear...

Mama's In Town

"Mum, have you got into the flat ok?"
"Yes, yes, well....no. I'm afraid to put my key in the door in case it's the wrong one. You know how it is."

Er, I don't, but ok...And then later that day.

"Jesus mum, I've been trying to call you for ages, I.." and then she cuts me off.
"I'm bald. My hair is falling out." she wails at me down the phone.
"What!!!!"
"Well I'm not actually bald, but I'm sure that bloody woman has burnt my hair off at the hairdressers."

I finally located her on Oxford Street where I was regaled with the whole story of her trip to the hairdressers, having her hair relaxed, the woman manhandling her hair too much, my mum looking in the sink, seeing a shitload of hair and having some sort of panic attack where she's doubled up and wailing, and then the hairdresser explaining that it's not her hair and it's number of peoples hair. The stupid cow hadn't bothered to clean out the sink. Unfortunately my mum has now decided that it's a conspiracy and it's really her hair and twenty four hours later, and countless reassurances that she isn't bald, I feel like going round to the hairdressers and throttling the woman as I can't take much more!

Today I she met some of my colleagues, and all of the lads flirted outrageously with her and told her she wasn't old enough to be my mum (she's 47, but looks early 30s). My mum thoroughly enjoyed herself and I couldn't help but laugh when the lads turned up and my ex boss said "I was in there. What did you lot have to go showing up for?"

My mum met up with MBF for a bit and fussed over him and went on about her future son in law. She knows MBF, and also the history behind it and thinks he's stupid, misguided but genuinely likes him and he is in fact the only guy that she has ever liked. Admittedly personality wise, he's probably one of the nicest people you could meet and it certainly isn't a hindrance to be very good looking, but he's also lacking in balls when it comes to sorting his shit out and telling one person he loves them whilst staying with the girlfriend, which I reminded my mum of. 'You two will get married' she pronounced and I smiled weakly. When she insisted on taking a photo of both of us, it was at once the funniest and the most embarrassing moment ever as I furtively looked around for colleagues to appear and get the rumour mill going. My whole face went puce as she rabbited on to all of my colleagues a while later, about MBF and they were all pissing themselves laughing.

We met up with my bro afterwards and after a long lunch had a wander around the shops. We eventually ended up at Liberty (an upmarket department store) and as we made our way to the home furnishings, we passed the lingerie section. My mum saw this black 'item' on the display and brandished at my my bro.

"Is this a shoehorn?"
"I think it's a vibrator mum", although even I was doubting myself as it did look like a shoe horn. My bro looked around as if he wanted to be swallowed up.
"Don't be ridiculous! Who'd put this up them?" and continues to brandish it at my bro, so he backs away with his crutch.
"Madame, it is indeed a vibrator." says the shop assistant. Cue a big explanation on vibrators to my mum and her testing out the vibration of various odd shaped vibrators. My bro is nowhere to be seen.
"How much is the shoe-horn looking one?"
"£89"
"£89!" she screeches. " 'Bro' can you believe this vibrator is £89?" My bro who has briefly reappeared, pretends he doesn't know her.
"Ma, I don't think 'Bro' wants to think about you looking at vibrators, never mind buying one!" but she's ignoring me as she homes in on a mini Rabbit vibrator and gets an explanation from the shop assistant.
"Shouldn't these" and she pushes at the ears of the rabbit "wiggle around or something?"
"Er, I don't know" says the shop assistant as the other shoppers smile at my mum with curiosity.
"I think I'll get one of these." she says. "For a friend who'd like it" she adds hastily not quite looking me in the eye.
"He he he. I've got one of the proper Rabbits. Given to me by a friend...of course." I said, not quite looking her in the eye.

My bro could take no more and demanded that we all move on immediately. I have a suspicion that my mum will be buying some plastic love soon....

We all brought a load of cushions, pillows and throws (in total about £500/$900 worth of stuff for about £100/$180) and we then dragged our purchases with us to dinner at a new dim sum restaurant called Ping Pong, where my mum and the bro proceeded to get quite drunk. It was pure entertainment with my brother laughing really dirtily (far worse than me) and my mum trying to pretend she wasn't that drunk. I found myself choking on my food as my mum regaled us with her tale of pretending that she'd had a lesbian experience to someone. You couldn't dream this shit up if you tried! I love my family!

Mystery Guy is History

"Tell me a joke" said Mystery Guy and I looked at him as if he had two heads. This conversation was having more ups and downs than a call girls pair of knickers. The only jokes I know are dirty jokes and I didn't really think it was appropriate for me to go down this route on our first proper meeting. So I did what I just can't help but do when I'm uncomfortable and I became a smart arse. 'Do I look like a performing seal to you?' and I promptly burst out laughing.

I don't know what it is about men and me, but I don't think I bring the best out of them. Take one seemingly regular guy, pleasant, funny, witty and quite good looking and he turns into a mumbling, stumbling, jumbling, interrogator, that's about as funny as peeing with a bout of cystitis.

The writing was on the wall when I returned to the office after spending three quarters of my work day at a client visit and found two emails from him. The first was asking me if I was still on for meeting up (whoops, I hadn't got round to rescheduling) and the second saying that it's obvious that I don't want to go out and that he doesn't want to come across stalkerish by phoning to find out what was going on. And they say that women think too much!

I replied literally two minutes after I returned to the office, and asked if we could make our meeting for either an hour this evening, and if he can't do that, then could we reschedule for next week. I headed off to another meeting and he's on the phone when I come out asking why I hadn't emailed him. I explained that I had and I stifled the urge to laugh as he had obviously changed his mind about looking like a stalker.

He took me to this bar in a complex (I'm not going to be a bitch and diss the location) and once we were sat down, he proceeded to fire questions at me left right and centre, and I subconsciously found myself assuming the interview pose - sat comfortably in the chair with my hands resting on my lap listening and responding to questions. It was after the twentieth question when he did the whole 'Tell me a joke' thing. He didn't take heed from my wisecracking and asked me to define myself. It was tempting to say 'irritated' but I turned it back on him and then asked him if I was in an interview. He looked bewildered so I spelt it out for him. "Well it's a bit like question, listen, pause, take a quick look at the imaginary list of questions, pause, question, listen,..." and you get the idea. "Oh yes, I guess it does sound like that. I'm learning a lot about myself this evening"Hmmm, are you sure about that Mystery Guy?

He dug his grave further by telling me that he had thought that I was 18 hence assumed that I was immature and was surprised to discover that I was 28. I suggested that it may be better for him to hang outside the school gates.....to which we both had a giggle. He told me in one breath that I looked like I don't get to let my hair down much, and then in the next breath that I looked like a social butterfly. He thinks I'm quite serious (if only he knew) and he thinks, he thinks and bla bla bla. He then had the cheek to suggest that I'm bored. "I might as well tell you that one of the things that I dislike about first dates is when the guy makes sweeping statements as if he's known me for ages."

I think he's deep and brooding and his 'questioning technique' is his idea of conversation, which can work for some, but for a conversationalist like me, it feels like I should be using one of my lifelines. It's great that he wants to know so much about me, and you'd think I'd love to talk about myself incesstantly for an hour (I save that for you lot), but it didn't really give me the opportunity to engage with his personality and he came across as anal. I think I would probably have considered doing a second date if he hadn't done the analysing my personality and then analysing the date. My stomach churning from the uncomfortableness of the conversation was a mega no-no.

We got the tube to Baker Street where we both had to change, and what do you know, he continued to analyse the evening further, and rambled on in his very quiet voice about whether I had enjoyed the night, that he had enjoyed the night, that he's learnt a lot about himself, that he would quit the questioning, that he thought I might not call and...

"Seriously Mystery Guy, stop. I had a pleasant evening and thanks for the drink. I think I'm going to go now because it's not a good idea for you to be analysing the 'date' before the date is even over. It's just not the done thing and it's making me feel uncomfortable. You're projecting your analysis on me, but the fact that you have to do this in the first place is not a good sign."

I bade him farewell with half hearted promises of being in touch and as I descended down the escalator, I exhaled. I think there was a time when I would have been naive enough to have promised a second date or even snogged him into silence but I can't be arsed. That was a very difficult hour that didn't flow very well and reminded me why I would have been far better cleaning the flat for my mothers arrival. Things must be bad when staying home to bleach the toilet, vacuum and hide The Rabbit become an exciting prospect.

Ironic moment: Mystery Guy saying that he thinks he's made a bad choice in venue and this very old biker type guy with white hair and a bad cowboy outfit appearing beside us, stared at me, attempted to blow smoke rings and then choked on his cigarette. Naturally this made me howl with laughter...obviously when his back was turned.

Miss Beyonce & The Mystery Guy

Mystery Guy followed up our encounter with an email, which once I replied, turned into several emails. Normally I hate doing the whole conversational emails with complete strangers that I suspect have an end goal of getting in my knickers, but his emails were friendly, fun, with no innuendo and no pressure. He had decided to email me first because he didn't want to come across like a complete weirdo! He phoned last night and we chatted for about 20 minutes by which time I admittedly started to feel a little antsy. It wasn't because he had done anything wrong, but as a friend suggested recently, first phonecalls shouldn't be that long as they build false expectations of what to expect from a first date. I just wanted to get off the phone towards the end as I had 'things to do' and now I'm sh*t-scared that I've turned into a selfish, 'Independent Woman', clicking her fingers saying 'Question?' Destiny's Child style!

This guy is so far witty, charming, funny and laid back, and I'm enjoying the conversation, but at the back of my mind I'm thinking 'Must try and catch up on blog comments this evening';'Ooh, must catch up on blog reading';'F*ck! Mum is arriving on Thursday and I need to seriously tidy this place';'I hope that he won't be expecting us to be talking all the time and seeing each other all the time as I need me-time' and 'Damn it, I wonder if something interesting is happening in Eastenders (cheesy, at the moment crap English soap-opera)'.

What the frig is wrong with me? I say toodaloo to TC because he is Mr Unavailable and then when I get talking to a guy who so far is displaying availability, I'm worrying about not being able to do all of my 'Me-Time' things. I knew that living on my own would give me some selfish habits, but jaysus! It's blatantly obvious that I'm thinking way too much and that I need to push past my neurosis and go on a date. He did ask me to meet him tonight (eager beaver) and I said I was busy (sleeping and spending time with me, myself and I) and I have provisionally said I'll meet him tomorrow. Turns out that I can't though, as I really am hideously busy as we still haven't figured out how my mum is getting to my flat on Thursday because I've already got a meeting which I can't duck out of and my brother has to work out the logistics of going for a pee, never mind picking up my mother, because of his busted knee and foot from falling out of a window drunk. I've been tidying a room a day, which means that I've got the livingroom and bedroom left to tidy and they are the worst. I'd rather meet him next week when I'm more chilled out, which just leaves me to tell him!

Much as I may be pondering if I have become Miss Beyonce (single, living on my own, self-sufficient, many interests and activities, unspoken 'I don't need a man to complete me' attitude most of the time, finger clicking 'I'm happy on my own' attitude the rest of the time, living in a mountain of shoes and other materialistic comforts), I'm not looking to get myself heavily involved in anything at the moment as my main focus is to try to get better, and after that I'm focused on getting my other site up revamped and running. This does leave time for me to 'do' other things such as date, but I won't be finding myself in a relationship I'm not sure of five months down the line or worse, because I'll be following my gut, speaking up when I don't like things and saying farewell after the first 3 dates if things don't have the hallmark of better things to come.

Today was my first day of leaving early as part of a trial arranged by my company to see if it helps me illness wise (I can never quite say disease!). The idea is that I get one lie-in and an early-exit, which lets me miss rush hour, distribute stress over the week and relieve tiredness. Both my old boss and new boss were tapping their watches at 4pm to make sure that I left and I secretly felt relieved to be on the way home as I had an overwhelming urge to go to sleep. As I walked up Oxford Street chatting to B on the phone, I could feel the excesses of work seeping out of me and then wham!, this imbecile guy walks right into me like a bloody rugby player knocking me off course. I turned around to look at him expecting an apology and he just looked at me as if I had two heads for even looking at him. 'Asshole!' I roared at him. Probably not a very good start to my relieving stress and avoiding rush hour madness....

However, I was fast asleep by 4.45pm and woke up just after 8pm! One of the the things I have noticed is that I haven't had the vast amount of jabbing, stabbing pains over the past couple of weeks and they've now become more occasional. Maybe one day I'll be just a 'normal woman' who doesn't have a 'disease' to deal with........

I was walking up to the tube station this morning and 3 men said hello or smiled at me. I checked to see if my tits were hanging out (negative) or I had something on my face (negative) and I returned the smiles or greetings. Things are good in the world of NML!

Telling Tales

Where should I start? Should I explain my discovery that my ex (the brown suit wearing ex fiance) is making me out to be a husband snatcher, or at least a potential one? Or should I tell you all about the complete stranger that followed me off the tube to chat me up and how I ended up chatting away to him for 20 minutes? Oh and I must not forget the flirting with colleagues...

Well l'll go with the good stuff first. I stayed with a close friend of mine on Friday (she is the wife of ex fiance's boss) and after an evening and morning of the kids going completely nuts, I headed for home on the tube with my ears ringing. Mystery Guy got on a few stops after me and I looked up from my magazine and promptly got caught peeking at him. Despite regarding most guys that approach me on the tube as weirdo's, it doesn't seem to stop me from keeping my eyes peeled for cute guys that I inevitably don't speak to! Until yesterday I always thought I'd gotten away with it but all of those episodes of CSI and Law & Order haven't helped me to be covert! We caught eyes a couple more times after which I made a point of keeping my head down, hence I was surprised when he appeared beside me as I changed tubes at Kings Cross.

Apparently he assumed that I thought that I knew him from somewhere, which is comforting as he didn't think I was weird. Unfortunately I ruined it by first denying I had even looked at him and then blurting out "Well I wasn't looking at you. I'm just a strange woman that looks around a lot!' I could feel myself flushing with embarrassment with my own smart arse ways and somehow I found myself agreeing to let him walk me to my platform. We chatted away comfortably and when we discovered that the 3 lines I needed to use were closed, he walked me back to the platform we just came from! That's when I discovered that he was going to Holborn, which meant that it was completely unnecessary for him to get off the tube in the first place. It was his turn to flush with embarrassment then! He kept looking a little confused when we were talking and it turns out that he was confused by me sounding like I was in my late 20s but looking like I'm 18 apparently. He was surprised that I was 28, but he also looked visibly relieved!

He's 30, nice looking polite guy from Trinidad, who works for one of my clients. We got into a conversation about where I work and what I do and I got the impression that he seemed a little taken aback. I can't put my finger on why, but I definitely sensed something, even though there was no reason for him to be. He asked me for my card, told me he would call me and poof, he was gone. I don't know if he will call but I'm really pleased that I had an experience like that because I'm being a lot more open to being chatted up.

I've always been a flirt and recently I've found myself bantering away with a colleague, and even having to check myself to make sure I don't fancy him. I don't think I do, I'm just on heat! Joking! - But it's just some fun and a connection with someone that I can talk to and have a laugh with. I also got to talk to a bit of totty that started at the company a few months ago, but I've actually never spoken to. According to another colleague, he's asked about me a lot and told her that he fancies me. I sat in training with him all day on Friday and tried not to flirt (failed) and tried not to think of what it would be like to go out on a date with him (also failed). However, I really think that shitting on your own doorstep is a not a good idea, especially after MBF! I'm looking but not touching and I'm even thinking about going speeddating so I can get some of this pent up flirtation out of me!

As for that wearing brown from head to toe, immature, good-for-nothing ex-fiance of mine, he can kiss my black ass and then some. I have to admit - I was really f*cking annoyed on Friday. Remember last month when I mentioned that he's been phoning up his friends warning them off me? Well now he's telling people that I'm trying to get with the same guy, who is happily married with a kid. He told his boss, who promptly got on the phone to my mate asking if I'm a husband snatcher, and she promptly put him back in his box and told him to stop talking shite and that we are well aware of what he's been saying. I hate to say it, but what a c*ck! I can't believe I shared the same air as him, never mind got engaged to him. I must have been on crack! I told my brother when I went round for dinner today and he said, "Who gives a f*ck? It's obvious that mutherf*cker is still stuck in 2003 whilst you have moved on. Let him say whatever he wants. He's not in your life and I don't want you wasting any energy stressing about him when you've got much better things to think about." Well that's me been told! And now that I've written about him, I'm going to park this incident and move on.

I've taken it easy this weekend as I'm tired and I've been experiencing some annoying pains, and it's been a bit difficult to walk comfortably. I've put on a couple of items of clothing this past few days and discovered that they are looser and it seems that I've lost half a stone in recent weeks. I've been wanting to lose the steroid tummy but one of the benefits of the steroids was that I had a booty and I have a feeling that it's disappearing, albeit slowly. My mum arrives on Thursday, which means I have to have a massive tidy, which means hide The Rabbit and anything I don't want her eyes to scrutinise. If she saw The Rabbit she'd start blessing herself, accuse me of not wanting to give her grandkids, and then drag me down the street introducing me to all and sundry. I think she's worried that I'm going to Miss independent with No Man - The Rabbit will definitely give her the wrong idea!

*For those that enquired, this is my pda/phone aka Love Machine.
**Thanks to all of those that have commented over the past few days. I will catch up on my replies over the next couple of days!

Karaoke Whores

Tonight was spent with 7 mates including B, John and MBF at what are supposed to be the most luxurious private karaoke rooms in the world. As the only one who was stone cold sober, I didn't sing as much as normally would have, but I haven't laughed so much in ages. Thinl private room with leather a-plenty, with a touchscreen karaoke system that we controlled (I had so much fun with the echo function) and only the 8 of us to perform our hearts out to. Admittedly the service was not very good as we spent over half of the 2 hours we had booked waiting for bloody drinks, but I don't think that will be stopping us from going back.

We're all such a bunch of karaoke whores and you couldn't get most of the lads off the microphone. I heard Michael Jackson 'Billie Jean' with a cockney accent (Michael would turn black with the shock if he heard it) and Color Me Bad's 'I Wanna Sex You Up', also in a cockney accent but instead of singing, it was practically being read like a story, with moans and groans inserted for good measure. I did Baby Love by The Supremes and Like A Virgin with B, which I must point out were both of her choices. Having to put up with the lads hurling lewd abuse all the way through Like a Virgin was painful...almost like losing my virginity all over again. We all sang along to Vanilla Ice 'Ice Ice Baby' and did a brilliant Can't Touch This by MC Hammer. I'm sure that anyone walking by must have thought we were nuts!

Normally at karaoke, I'll do my favorite number Killing Me Softly by The Fugees (I've won a karaoke contest and come runner up with this!), but karaoke is for taking the piss and discovering something new, so I tried Chaka Khan's Ain't Nobody and rocked the mic. I also did Toni Braxton You're Makin Me High, which got the lads going and reminded me that I haven't got a good seeing to for a while. MBF was completely off his face with drink but did a very good Never Too Much by Luther Vandross and a frightening In Da Club by 50 Cent, in which I don't think he actually uttered one word of sense.

Everyone has been asking me about 'the guy you've been seeing' for the past couple of days and when I informed them all that it was over, they all seemed shocked as I'm not weeping and stuffing my face. "Come on now" I said. "You can't cry over a relationship that never actually got going." They don't get it though, but I keep telling people that there isn't a rule book out there that says I've got to go on hunger strike or major pig-out because I've said farewell to a guy.

As of next week, two of my work days will be slightly shorter to give me some help with coping with my illness (disease sounds so harsh). Work are trialing this with me to see if it helps with alleviating stress which obviously aggravates my illness, but it means I get a lie in one day a week and leave early on another day.

Anyway, I'm off to bed to play with my love machine. No it's not a big vibrator, but it's my new PDA/mobile phone, which I have fallen in love with. I got it to help me get more organised so that I keep my stress levels down.

Ain't nobody, love me better than me....

The Break-Up

It's been a good while since I've had to break up with someone, yet I've never had to break up with someone from an undefined, barely there relationship before. As The Contender (I so have to change TCs name) talked like there was no tomorrow on the phone tonight, I wondered how the f*ck I was going to work breaking up into the conversation and my head started to pound. For a few minutes I even thought that maybe there was no break-up conversation necessary, and then I told myself to stop being a wuss. And then it happened.

TC: So, er, you know the other day...I think it was your birthday, when you made that dig...said that thing about whether I'm seeing other people when I disappear, well I just wanted to reassure you that I'm not. OK?
NML: OK. I believed you when you told me although I've been thinking that it's very obvious that you're caught up with everything that you're doing and you don't have time for this.
TC: Well I've been very busy for 3 weeks (starts telling me this far too long story about the relatives that he's had visiting)
NML: (Bursts out laughing) Well now that I've established that you're the busiest person on earth, Mr Busy Bee, I think that it's best that we're just friends, not that I think it makes a difference to our situation!
TC: (Sounding rather put out) It doesn't make a difference? Of course it does.
NML: Not being funny TC, but this is not the time in my life to be involved in something ambiguous. It's not just these past 3 weeks when you've been uber-busy. You always have been. I have seriously wondered for the last while, what it was about me that made you think that I was suitable for 'this'.

And by 'this' I mean the very lax 'relationship' that we've had. He asked me to describe what I meant and I told him that I'm not keen on being a 'bit on the side';'bit of fluff' or part of a 'friends who f*ck' (FWF) conundrum. He was very quick to tell me that he hadn't even thought of me like that, but admitted that he could see how I may perceive it as that. He agreed that he doesn't have much time (no shit Sherlock), he's not emotionally ready to jump into something with someone else (no shit Sherlock) and that between the house, the ex girlfriend, and dealing with the past 6 months, he is, you guessed it, very, very busy. This doesn't put me in a very good position and leaves me with nothing and I told him as much. I think it finally hit home with him about how his actions were impacting on me and he accepted my suggestion to be friends.

'It seems that you are making the right decisions for you now, so you'll appreciate why I'm making mine. From now on, we can be friends, but without the WF (who f*ck)' and we both had a good giggle.

It was very amicable although he expressed that whilst he understood why I had made the decision, it bothered him. He's with me because I'm a 'great looking girl, very intelligent, great fun' that he has a great time with. He said that was the basic reasons why and there was no hidden agenda and he wasn't using me. We talked about how men see things in a very simple way and women like me, think that men are doing something much more covert such as treating me like a FWF (friends who f*ck) thing. I obviously think too much, or is it that men think too little about how their actions are perceived?

He started waffling on about how he hadn't got a good memory in general but that he remembered lots of the things that were going on in my life. I restrained the urge to tell him that it was a shame he didn't remember to see and call me more often! We talked about my illness etc and then he dropped his clanger.

TC: Gosh, it's a shame that you're not in a long term relationship because it would be great to have someone to be with you all the time and comfort you through this.

What the f*ck!?

NML: TC, you just can't help yourself can you?!?! (TC starts to laugh nervously) Yes it would be nice to be in a long-term relationship and have that support. How nice of you to remind me? TC, how could I be in a long-term relationship when I've been in an ambiguous one with you for the last few months?
TC: I..er.er...er...I..Oh f*ck, I should heed my own words and learn how to keep my gob shut.

So it's over with no tears, no drama and no fuss, but some piss taking thrown in. It's one less thing to worry about and I guess I can reassure myself that I wasn't being used, apparently. I have learnt some massive lessons from this whole thing which include following my gut, and speaking up about the shit that bugs me. I could have this conversation 4 months ago and this has been a big wake up call for me to face how I deal with relationships and the types of guys, Mr Unavailable's that I go out with.

I'm single again even though I barely managed to pull a relationship together. I don't feel sad, I just feel relieved because I faced it and said how I felt and it wasn't anywhere near as awkward and difficult as I thought it would be. I'm free to be with whomever I want to be, so I'm going to be with myself and focus my energies on getting better, and all of the other things in my life that deserve more energy. It's me time.

Giggles & Jiggles

I visted with various relatives of mine yesterday that were on here in London for the weekendand it occurred to me that being with either side of my family is like watching hours of comedy. Take the big long winded conversations about their breasts, some which have seen better days. 'I don't understand what cups mean' my father said as he tried to avert his eyes from his sisters who were manhandling theirs and each others during demonstrations. 'I work them out in handfuls' and gesticulated with his hands. 'That figures considering [the wife] is an A cup!' I quipped. 'Oh please' another aunt giggled. 'A-cup is like nipple' and we all laughed including my stepmother.

'Jesus put it away' cried my father as he giggled like a school boy at someone else showing off her swirly patterned white bra. I realised that the poor thing has had to listen to ridiculous girly conversations for nearly 50 years and they probably do it to get rid of him. He covered his face until she put it away.

And with comedic timing my grandmother (72) appeared at the sitting room door wearing glasses that look like shades, black trousers and a hot pink jumper. But it was the bra underneath that had my aunt and I collapsed in giggles. I think she robbed the Jean-Paul Gaultier bra from her Blonde Ambition tour. I thought bullets were going to come shooting out!

Then there was the big knicker fiasco. One aunt looking hot to trot in her sundress but wearing the most enormous granny knickers underneath that could be seen from Mars. As she bent over to do something, my father said 'Have you raided mums underwear drawer or something?' which resulted in much laughter and defending of big knickers - my aunts don't like chaffing on their big Jamaican style 'battys'. My conversion programme has had some effect as over the years I have got that same aunt wearing thongs (yesterday was obviously a shoddy example), my mother and stepmother, and I have educated my stepsisters on the types of thongs they should be buying and where from.

After escaping the madness (I say this fondly), I went out with M last night. M is my holiday companion from Sharm el Sheik and my regular cohort for gallivanting. We went to one of our hotspots and found it to be literally that, as we couldn't stay downstairs in the nightclub due to overcrowding, no airconditioning and it being a veritable sweatbox. So we stayed upstairs and got our groove on with a slight breeze and took the mick as usual. There was one woman who was wearing jeans about 2 sizes too small, a tackarama lacy pseudo bustier, with badly dyed hair and ridiculous cheap fur shrug. She came in with her black boyfriend, looked at us, and then grabbed him and rammed her tongue down his throat. As she gyrated against him and sneaked a look at us she caught us pissing ourselves laughing. Later he actually keeled over in the bar and I had to get a bouncer. I've never seen people leave so quickly and I suspect that he'd taken something. Maybe it was to cope with her using the fur shrug to practically strangle him and herself as they danced.

Then there was the guy that pretended to be French. 'Je m'appelle Bobby' and after a couple of minutes of strained conversation and him demonstrating that he'd lived her for 7 months by doing it the same way I would demonstrate a large penis, he disappeared, only to return moments later speaking with a London accent, in English! Hilarious!

I ended my evening by being chatted up by a guy that I don't remember the name of but that bombarded me with his knowledge of IT, stocks and derivatives and the housing market. I listened whilst I took a sneak peek at the hair, muscles etc. (He's a bit beefy on the arms which is not normally my thing but hardly a big deal!) We got talking about books and I educated him on globalisation, capitalism, certain corporations and we even had a brief chat about Bush (I lived in Fort Lauderdale during the 2000 elections). He has been 'planning' to emigrate for 3 years and claimed that he was going in September.

Alarms went off, sirens blared and my brain went 'UNAVAILABLE! UNAVAILABLE! UNAVAILABLE! RUN LIKE THE F*CKING WIND!', and as I made my excuses he said that he wasn't sure when he was going. Huh? Just as M and I were leaving he appeared telling me that I couldn't leave without giving him my number. He'd like to meet for a drink and tell me more about buying as a first time buyer. I gave him my number, not because of that but because my feet were burning, I was desperate to go and despite being a cow in many situations, I still haven't mastered the art of dodging phone number giving!

I'm still in my pajamas after getting in at 5am. After a visit from my nutty relatives this morning, I spent the rest of the day dozing. I'm drinking the 2 litres of water and staying away from the banned foods recommended by the kinesiologist and I have no idea if it is related but the joint pain in my fingers and the foot pain has started to ease a little after over a month of agony. I'm still adjusting to my new 'diet' and dealing with other aches and pains, but I'm in a good mood.

The Contender (so need to change that name) left two messages on Friday but I had been in meetings and very busy all day. He sounded a little peeved in his second message, probably because I hadn't jumped to it and called him back when he wanted me to. I called him back on my way home, braced to tell him that the 'relationship that never was' is over, but it went to voicemail. He's out of the country this weekend, hence I haven't heard from him since. What a shame that I couldn't be available when he wanted me to be.......

The Unforgiven

Until yesterday morning I considered myself to be a forgiving person, one that doesn't bear a grudge and who moves on. I might make wisecracks about it but that tends to be about things that I'm so comfortable with now that I can laugh at them. I always assume that if you're not thinking about something and you're getting on with the person, that all if forgiven. Yet I discovered yesterday that I actually may not be very forgiving at all.

The session at the kinesiologistwas brilliant but equally distressing. It never occurred to me that she may go down the emotional path but thinking about it, I recognise that the immune system is directly linked to your mental state. Now before anyone thinks I'm going crackers, I'm not, but it seems that I have a little 'spring cleaning' to do. Seemingly a combination of diet and emotional state could be the key to change, although she feels that emotions are the predominant factor in where my body is.

It is incredibly hard for me to describe what took place yesterday but the kinesiologist basically spoke to my body through touch and speech, and I honestly felt my right wrist muscles tense for a negative and loosen for positive stuff. It was completely involuntary and I could do nothing to influence it. This practice is about listening to the body as it is capable of communicating what it needs and what it lacks.

I can no longer eat the following at all: potatoes, peanuts (that explains my serious sickness a while back), chicken, pork, grapefruit, white bread, red, green and yellow peppers. I eat a banana almost every day and it turns out that my body can only cope with 1 maybe 2 a week! Kiwi's can be occasional, strawberries and most other fruits I need to limit and rotate them each week. I can eat chocolate (hurray) but should go easy on the fizzy drinks and have minimal or no alcohol. I can't drink wine or beer though. I also have to avoid a couple of additives (E100, E160 - I think they make things yellow) and I will be having my next session in 4 weeks where there will be an in-depth analysis of my nutrition.

This is why it is good to be tested because my doctor told me to stuff myself with fruit and all sorts of things that are sending my immune system lula and making it stressed. Oh and I need to drink 2 litres of water a day and sit in lilac ( don't ask me why and it's a colour I hate).

She counted back through my ages and homed in on the periods 22years 6months to 25 years, and 12 years and 4 months. The first period is without a doubt a frighteningly crazy period of my life where thing after thing happened. This period is what she feels is the key trigger to my immune system taking a downturn. Strangely enough, the first signs of my illness occurred just before I turned 25 (she didn't know this). The latter period was December 1989 and was when my now 15 year old brother was born. This was a difficult time but I need to actually try to drag myself back to pinpoint the stuff. She left my ages at this point and to be honest I was relieved because I have a feeling I wouldn't have liked her to go to the early years, although she may do this in another session.

She thinks that I have a problem with modesty and that I think that I'm not modest enough - It seems I downplay myself, something I've been accused of a number of times by family and friends. But it was when she started talking about me being very unforgiving and that I need to forgive and let go. I felt confused lying there on the bed and I suddenly felt like I wanted to bolt.

She suggested that as children we feel that our parents aren't supposed to make mistakes or be wrong and we can often find this difficult to forgive. Some of us hold on and carry it forward. My face was wet and I realised that it was possible that tears were trying to flow, so I willed myself to stop. 'Don't walk out of here without letting it out. You don't leave here with it' and then I felt hot tears on my face and complete mortification. She also advised me that other than spotting lung problems (correlates with my disease), that I also have a digestion issue which is predominantly mental. Apparently I don't digest my thoughts. You wouldn't believe how relieved I was when she moved onto the food stuff!

I spoke to my mum a few hours later and tentatively broached the subject of the session. 'She's right. You are incredibly unforgiving although you don't see that. I remember when your nursery teacher took me aside and told me to watch out because you were so unforgiving.' I felt unease creep over me and for some reason my brain stumbled to find a way to get out of the conversation. 'You never did forgive me for leaving your father. I don't think any of us have ever seen a person so grieved. You were a mess. You were so distraught. You really worshipped him' I felt really naked and vulnerable all of a sudden and to be honest, this feeling I can't quite identify came over me and it seemed familiar but from a long time ago. My mum has tried to broach this subject with me a few times, but I always say I don't know what she's talking about, which is true. Almost. I only know that I get this weird feeling and then I feel almost tearful. 'When it comes to us, emotionally, in terms of how you feel about us, you're still like a bewildered, angry 2 year old. ' she carried on. 'Ma, stop, I don't want to talk about this now'

'I think your dad and I need to sit down and speak to you properly and explain what happened all those years ago. I really think it will help you to clear your head and forgive both of us, especially me.' And she means it. I had to get off the phone and push down the sicky feeling.

I don't actually remember my parents 'together' and in all my 28 years and the 25 or so years since they broke up, my parents have never actually sat down and explained jack shit to me. It just 'was'. Sure, since I've seen my father again, he has occasionally under the influence of alcohol tried to give me a flaky insight, but nothing like what my mother is offering. What the f*ck! I'm 28 years old and my mum feels the need to do something like this because she thinks it will help me. I don't know what to think.

I'm going back for the next session and I did find it informative and very helpful. I am determined to have a more holistic approach to overcoming my illness and I have to give this commitment. I'd like to think that this woman is talking hocus pocus re the emotional stuff, but it's hard to think that when it's actually true!

So there are my two parents - The Unforgiven. And to think that I didn't actually know this until yesterday.

I'm NML & I'm An Absenteeholic

When I was a little girl, whilst I didn't run around thinking of what I would look like as a future bride, I did have ideas that I would grow up, meet a man, fall in love, get married, have some kids and live happily ever after. Even when I entered the teenage years where I realised that boys are fickle, boys disappoint and that 'love' is difficult, I still thought that I would enjoy my twenties (I've certainly done that), date lots of guys, settle on 'The One', fall in love and you know the rest. So where did it all go so wrong? Or more accurately, when did it all get 'real'?

Now that I've made the decision to call time on the farce that is mine and TC's 'relationship', not only has the weight lifted, but there is a clarity forcing its way to the surface that is difficult to ignore. Whilst I will always empathise with my girls for the love troubles there is something that I cannot shout loud enough. We must take responsibility for where we are in our relationships. I don't mean blame yourself for him/her being a dick, but I do mean being accountable for where you end up. Mr Unavailable has been a regular feature in my life because that's what I have been attracted to, it's what I've been drawn to. I didn't know it at the time, but I bloody well do now!

Hi. I'm NML and I'm a cockaholic. Just joking! Hi, I'm NML and I'm an absenteeholic.

Reading through the comments from yesterdays post (I will respond to comments tomorrow), it is clear that there are other women who make the same choices that I do, so much so that I really do think I will form that club! There is something about drama and a man who just isn't there.

How many of us are mooning over a relationship whether it actually exists or not? How many of us are mooning over some bloke that may not even know that we exist? How many of us still love the guy that screws around behind our backs, doesn't hide it, but we still hope for change anyway? How many of us seem to like the guy so much more when he doesn't call as often as you would like him to? How many of us go along with the charade in the hopes that things will eventually turn out how we want them to? How many of us 'hint' at stuff but don't come out straight and say it? How many of us feel like we're talking to a brick wall because it never changes? How many of us like guys that are emotionally or physically or sometimes even spiritually absent?

I must admit that I didn't have me down for being one of these women. I didn't think I was above stuff, but I always pidgeon-holed 'pattern' stuff, down to out and out bastards. When you cut out the cheating/beating/emotionally abusing types of guy, a lot of these unavailable men aren't bastards or bad guys, they're just on another planet. Planet him.

I always say 'A guy will only do what he's allowed to get away with in a relationship' or vice versa for a woman, hence if we don't want to find ourselves in the same situation all over again, we need to change how we are in our relationships.

So here are some initial lesson points that ran through my mind today.

Set the tone. If you allow someone to do something repeatedly without question, the behavior becomes the norm and the accepted. eg. TC was doing his unavailability stuff from the early days and instead of saying that I didn't like it, I let him get on with it in the hopes that he'd see how understanding and accepting I was. Am I off my bloody rocker?

Mean what you say. If you do actually say that you don't like something, when he/she does it the next time, don't ignore it. They either get the message or they get lost, but either way you've achieved a lot and you don't end up looking like a flip flapper or a pushover.

Cut the fluff. Hinting doesn't mean jack in a court of law and it doesn't mean jack in relationships. Spit it out and save yourself some unnecessary headaches.

Cut the wisecracks. As someone who uses humour to cover uncomfortable situations, I am extremely guilty of throwing in a wisecrack at inappropriate times. (Remember when I said 'See you in 3 months?) I really wanted to say 'What is the situation with us? I don't like the long absences with poor contact.' TC probably thinks I'm happier with things than I actually am.

Put yourself first. Noone else will do it. If you put yourself first, you do right by others. If you can't take care of NO 1, how can you take care of anyone else? Guys that sense that you don't put yourself first, whether it's on a conscious or subconscious level, sniff an opportunity to be Mr Unavailable. They know they can get away with it because we don't love ourselves enough to tell them to buck up on their ideas or shag off.

Put yourself on lock down. Sex confuses the hell out of things. You can't for example start up a conversation on them being Mr Unavailable when you've just surfaced from giving them a blow job. You're also less likely to speak up when he's with you, if he's been talented enough to give you an orgasm. Keep the legs closed until you know who and what you're dealing with. Remember the saying: Why buy the cow when you can drink the milk for free?

Expectations. I can't say it enough, but expectations and how we set them and communicate them are one of the keys to relationship success. If you expect to be in a relationship and he expects to be getting a booty call, there is a problem.

Don't believe the hype/poo. I've said it often enough - guys do talk some pure doo doo. Stop listening. There's no point in dwelling on the fact that he said 'I'm really into you' if the reality is that he doesn't call or he's emotionally vacant making it difficult for you to move forward. I found that the last few times that I saw TC, I would take something small, such as him referring to us doing something in the future, as a sign that he saw something more serious with me and that we were in a relationship. Reality check: He saw himself being able to slip back into my life when it suited him, get laid and then slip back out.

Don't Take on DIY Projects. What is it about women where we have this idea that we can be the one to fix our particular guy? If he's unavailable, he's unavailable and screwing the hell out of him, being there for him and trying to change him, isn't go to do a damn thing other than waste your time. If he doesn't want to be available and he doesn't want to be any different, quit whilst your ahead. Some other woman will come along and he'll want to be different without her having to beat him over the head with her 'nagging'. We are not that woman.

I'm determined to make real, tangible, relationship improving life changes because I'll be damned if I find myself in this situation again and for all of my girls (and guys) that feel like taking this ride with me, hop on. The pooch is closed because like the penis it has no brain cells and is disloyal as f*ck and gets excited when it should be clamped shut, or limp in the case of the willy.

Editors note: I will update on the kinesiology tomorrow as I'm exhausted, but lets just say that it was really good although very distressing in parts due to the emotional element.

Wanted: One Unavailable Man

After much pissing about, I have decided to call time on the saga that is The Contender (TC). This is not a good time in my life to have something ambiguous and that will be the excuse I'll be using when I speak to him next. A big lesson has been learnt - take note that I say this after every guy and I mean it each time! - I am the only person that is a part of each relationship and every time I'm with a guy, I seem to get the same headache. I must have something to do with this. I am the common denominator.

I've liked TC who has enough baggage to fill up a terminal at Heathrow which includes an ex girlfriend that he was with for a long time and the house that he's trying to sell. There's Male Best Friend (MBF) who has a girlfriend, says he loves me but still hasn't ditched the girlfriend. Have I mentioned that he insists that he wants to be with me and that he will sort himself out? Have I mentioned that I think that the men in my life talk a complete load of doo doo?

Then there was The Fiance who was unavailable because he was too busy admiring his perfect self and his cricket bat, and I've also had an ex who was so caught up in his mothers apron strings that I'm surprised he didn't crawl back into her womb every evening!

I specialise in unavailability and it's dawning on me that I need to make a change. Whether it's a girlfriend, ex girlfriend, the mammy or just a stupid cricket bat, I sure know how to pick 'em. I always give them enough rope to hang themselves with and then I wonder how the f*ck I ended up here. I'm boring myself! Surely there must be more to bloody life than this? Surely there must be a few men out there who say what they mean, say what they want and do what they say? Surely there is a man who like the average person has a little baggage but is available for a relationship? Surely I will look at the guys I meet with open eyes and recognise the unavailables and avoid them like the plague?

Whilst I recognise that my exes/love interests/TC may have dick feature qualities about them (some have behaved atrociously), I'm laying the blame for this one at my door.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not blaming myself for how TC is, but he has behaved fairly consistently for most of this 5 month 'relationship' and I should hardly be surprised that he is, surprise, surprise, exactly the same. I should have followed my gut and told him that I didn't like how things were instead of playing along in the name of taking things slow. Regardless of whether I know what I want or don't want, what the f*ck am I doing with a guy who skips into my life when it suits him, on his schedule, has a good time whether or not he gets laid, and then skips off again? He can make out that he cares and that he's mad about me but he had a funny way of showing it. I'm crackhead for going along with it and not telling him to get lost. What is about me that allows these men into my life to take the piss? If any one of my mates or blog pals told me that they were seeing a bloke like TC, I'd tell them to tell him to get knotted. I love doling out the advice but I'm rubbish at taking it.

Thinking about how the hell I have ended up being with TC in yet another dodgy 'relationship' has given me a wake up call. I feel that I learn something every time I walk away from a relationship and I avoid specific things that I don't like (self obsessed, can't stop playing cricket, wears down on self-esteem, drinks alot, abnormal fascination with mum, irresponsible etc) but it has taken me all this time to cop onto the fact that my specialty is Mr Unavailable. I've been too busy trying to avoid the obvious no-no guys that I didn't even see the wood for the trees.

I wonder if I give off a scent that says to guys that they can be Mr Unavailable with me? Something about me is either drawn to men that are like this or is it possible that I'm 'letting off' my special scent 'Be As Unavailable As You Like'? Well the scent is gone and it's been replaced with 'Piss Off If You're Not Available'

I'm robbing myself of the opportunity to be with men that are not perfect but have enough balls about them to put some effort into a relationship and appreciate me for me. So TC can get lost and I'm thankful that I'm out in less than 5 months instead of the previous two years plus.

As an update, tomorrow morning, I've got my first appointment with a kinesiologist and I'm feeling hopeful but I'm not going to be too expectant. I have a lot of regard for alternative therapies and they should be able to give me some feedback on my immune system and recommend a course of treatment. Fingers crossed!

Father, Father

My parents haven't been together since I was somewhere between two and three years old, but I can say that I don't have a concrete recollection of my parents being together. They weren't married which I didn't think was something that was a bad thing, but when I found myself on the end of a tongue lashing from my mother at age 11 for telling Mrs Jones that my parents weren't wed (apparently my mum had claimed to be a 'remarried'), I then spent the next 10 years or so making out that my parents actually were married.

'How long is it since your parents broke up?' and I would reply 'Oh, er... they got divorced when I was very little' , and I kept it vague as I didn't want to get tied up in detail for fear of having to make up stories re custody battles in the divorce court, when in actual fact my mum had up and left with her two young children when she saw that the relationship wasn't working and given the proverbial two fingers to my father. Actually, she probably did give the two fingers to him.

My mum wanted a better life for my brother and I, and I think my parents were at distinct odds with each other. My mum does like the material things in life, and loves ambition, and the security that a steady man can bring. I think she thought that the arrival of two children would ground my father, but it just didn't happen, or at least not when she wanted it to. My father, despite being highly intelligent, didn't really want too much out of life, and once his steady, pensionable job was in place, he wanted to party, play dominos, cards and cricket, and not really be answerable to anybody bar his beloved mother.

My father (sometimes I call him 'Dad' and other times by his name) lives in my place of birth, Wolverhampton, which is about 2-3 hours by train from London. I haven't seen him for almost a year and I couldn't give you a concrete reason why, but I went up there yesterday with my aunt and spent a pleasant few hours in his and the rest of my family's company.

Without boring the bejaysus out of everyone, I saw my father pretty much continuously until I was almost 8 when I moved to Zambia, and then later onto Dublin. I kept sporadic contact with him in my teens and then lost contact for 7/8 years through the late teens early twenties. I don't think I quite understand why he wasn't exactly 'Dad of the Year' although he has given some reasons and seems keen to build a relationship with me. In the meantime, I now have 16 and 15 year old stepsisters, by the woman who I have known since I was about 4/5, and whom my brother was fascinated by her 'buses' (boobs) which is strange because she doesn't have very much now!

My aunt told me this morning on the way home, that even though I may not realise it, my dad is very proud of me, even though he recognises that he hasn't contributed much to that. She thinks he can at times find it difficult to express that and that it is apparent that he wants to be close to me, but is trying to balance that with his wife and not making her feel insecure. I thought back to last night when he was sitting opposite me in the pub and seemed unsure where to sit.

For some strange reason I felt slightly emotional when she said this and then pushed the feeling down and said " 'His Wife' told me when she was a bit pissed a couple of years ago that she is still wary of me after me running rings around her as a child' It seems that as a 5 year old, I would coerce my brother, then 3.5 years old to 'play up' on her when she was with us on her own. I don't remember what we did, but she drunkenly informed me that we used to play tricks on her and generally misbehave until she would be close to tears. Apparently as soon as my father came home, we would be good as gold and she would rat on me as the instigator and my dad seeing me being quiet and well behaved, would think she was off her rocker. It seems I left a lasting impression and whilst the bro is regarded as 'My sweet little..', I don't think she uses those types of adjectives on me.

My aunt was cracking up laughing and we agreed that I was only a child and that should hardly dictate how I get on with her now. However we both recognise that some things can leave a very lasting impression and I think I may seem a little threatening to her family unit.

I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. My mum, despite protestations of support, feels hurt by me 'taking up' with the other side, and has made her disapproval known on more than once occasion. My stepfather is completely fine with me seeing my father and doesn't see it as threatening. My mum and stepfather have been separated for almost 7 years, and he has his own life out in China and just seems to want me to be happy. He has been a consistent father figure, even if he hasn't been 'Dad of the Year' at times either. He has however been there and the older and wiser me recognises that my fathers won't get to be 'Dad of the Year', they just get to be 'Dad of NML' and that's better than nothing at all.

My father just wants the chance to spend some time with me from time to time and get to know me. He knows he can't change the past but would like to have a go at the future. Deep down I know that I didn't see him for almost a year because I wanted some peace and quiet and didn't want to deal with any guilt or having to explain myself to anyone.

As I looked at him yesterday, a fraction of the size his was the last time I saw him, after suffering with stress and high blood pressure after a very distressing personal trauma, I felt two things wash over me. Shame that I had distanced myself from him when I had an opportunity to be there, and suddenly realisation that he won't be around forever. I can piss around and make excuses for my actions and bury my head in the sand, but I'm robbing myself for every second, every day and every year goes by. When I was younger, it was my fathers responsibility to ensure that the relationship was maintained, but as an adult, I have to make the effort too.

I had good fun this weekend even though I was in horrid pain for a lot of it. It's amazing how you just tune it out and push past it, until you collapse in a heap in bed and think that you thought you'd never make it through the night. My stepsisters are gorgeous and I had to lecture them on the fact that they had boyfriends and tried my best not to show my cynicism, and instead caution them to behave themselves. The 16 year old one is going out with a 18 year old guy but trying to make out that she's not doing anything. 'It might be hard for you to imagine, but if there is one thing I know a lot about, it's boys and I know what 18 year old boys want. Lets just say that he won't be wanting to hold your hand and have a kiss.'

A guy tried to chat me up in the vicinity of my father and grandfather and he was laying on the charm offensive. Discovering that my father runs the pub didn't curb his enthusiasm and he babbled on and on, eventually saying, 'I have never seen a girl like you around here. Me and you will have to link up. What do you think?' I looked around cautiously and then said, 'Truthfully. My dad and my grandad will kill you.' He burst out laughing and I thought that was the end of it. Moments later he dropped a folded piece of paper onto the table, with his number on there. 'I gwan kill him!' my grandad said and I had to warn him about overdoing it. 'Who does he think he is trying it with you? You're far too good for him. I've a good mind to bar him!' my dad said and he looked like his head was going to explode. And I must admit, that father daughter moment felt good.

Say What Mofo?

I sat in the doctors surgery this evening and explained to her about the lump and the various symptoms which have been creeping back in. 'Hmmmm' was said several times and when I said 'I don't know what to do', she said 'Well there really isn't much you can do. Do you want me to refer you to the hospital?'

I explained about not wanting to go back on steroids (she tried to do the hard sell, no doubt for her commission!) and I was adamant that I was not ready to put myself through that. I talked some more about the struggling to walk when I get up, the neck, arm, shoulder, leg, bum pain and the lethargy, which I grimace through while trying to get on with my job. I asked about alternative therapy but she declined to recommend any. She started talking about 70 year old women with my disease, ok illness sounds better, and how theirs had started at 35 and they had been in remission for a while now.

My mind drifted for a moment and I imagined myself (well dressed of course, with a husband and grown kids and a good shoe collection) but getting older, traipsing into hospitals and doctors surgeries and watching out for the possibility of the illness creeping back, or putting up with it creeping back in after years of remission and promptly started to cry. It wasn't because I had a blue rinse or a ridiculous wig - I don't know how I have coped with being sick for three years and now I'm trying to imagine another 42 with this bullshit.

I didn't cry to get sympathy but she became a bit more human and has basically told me that despite the fact that I eat quite healthily, I have to cut out/cut down a lot of things (chocolate, sweets, dairy, processed foods, sauces, junk food - read more in one of my final Big Blogger posts). She also thinks that my career choice is too stressful for someone with my disease. Apparently I have to think about myself and the medium and long term. I work in advertising for a publisher, and my job is to manage my clients media spend with us and flog them more and more. I also have to schmooze the ones that don't spend because one day they will spend.

She thinks that my job, my industry is far too stressful and doesn't give very much flexibility in terms what time I can come in, leave etc and it's a highly stressful and demanding environment. That's true, but lots of peoples have jobs are like this. I told her as much and she said that not everyone lives with my condition and I have to make changes. End of.

What am I supposed to do? Jack in my job? Change of career? Looks like it. I've always said that I see myself as self-employed within the next few years, but it looks like I will have to look to doing that much sooner. Or doing something different in my industry. Jaysus....suggestions are welcome!

I just did my final post in Big Blogger and I must say, I'm relieved. It was a bit demanding and like I said in it, a bit like I imagine pissing into the wind to be like. I lost by a long 'ole stretch but I think it's safe to say that I will be sleeping blissfully tonight..as usual. If you do have any energy in your voting fingers left, skip on over there and cast a vote for your favourite. Vit is bound to win, but don't forget that one of my bezzy blog mates Alan (that's best mate for anyone not in the know) is in there, so show him some love if you can.

Thank you to everyone who commented on the post about racism. I will be responding to all of the comments tomorrow.

Oh and I'm thinking of changing The Contenders name to Dot Dot Dot Man because he keeps on sending texts and emails, like this response to a text a few days back: ''Will do thanks.... Glad you enjoyed it. Speak soon...' What the frig is that all about? Why can't he just speak or write emails and texts like a normal person? I think the end is near.

Did I mention that I came back from a meeting recently and sang 'I'm back! I'm back! I'm really, really back!...Who's back?' to the tune of Bad by MJ. I didn't mention that? Oh never mind!

Right, I'm off to plot my career on the game. I wonder if I could moonwalk on street corners as I tout for business?

Life Isn't Always Chocolate Chip

I'm shocked at the racially motivated murder of a young black man, Anthony Walker in Liverpool last Friday night. He was axed by these senseless people that have no regard for human life. He had been standing at a bus stop with his girlfriend (white) and his cousin, and this sparked racial abuse that eventually led to his murder. There are lots of questions racing through my mind about why this may have happened (Was it random? Was it because he was with a white girlfriend? Did they have previous issues?), but it still shocks me that people can possibly be killed for being in the wrong place, at the wrong time....with the wrong skin colour.

I watched a news report where his family talked about how they have lived in Liverpool for 18 years and often suffered racial abuse. His aunt was visibly surprised that people had turned out to pay their respects to her nephew as she genuinely thought and felt that she lived in place where nobody would care that her relative had been killed so senselessly and she told them as much, and thanked them for showing her support. My thoughts and prayers are with his family and I couldn't help but feel teary eyed and it made me think back to my own upbringing and how whilst it was different, how my colour still made for some very difficult points in my life.

I was born in England to a Jamaican mother and a Jamaican/Chinese father. During my childhood, I went to an Indian school for 6 months (long story), lived in a very Northern part of England where I'm sure we were the only black people (also for 6 months), lived in Zambia for 2 years, and was brought up in Dublin, Ireland which at the time couldn't be whiter if it tried. I've lived in the US for months at a time during my twenties and London for the past 4.5 years. Did I mention that my stepfather is white?

Maybe I'm naive, or maybe I was raised differently, but when I reached Dublin at age 10, I had gone through life assuming that I had every right to be here and not feeling that I should be treated differently because I happen to be brown. So I had a bit of a shocker when I was called a 'chocolate chip' and a 'n*igger' on my first day at school in Dublin!

I think I was shell shocked for the first couple of years, as people pointed and stared, asked me why I was black, asked me if I was born in Ethiopia, and sometimes called me a n*gger, but told me that they didn't mean any harm by it because they had never been around black people. I was appalled at how people spoke to me and stared at me and felt so self-conscious in my own skin. At times the blatant curiosity made me want to get a tub of white paint so I could blank myself out and fit in, yet at that same moment when I let that thought creep in, something else surged that reminded me that there was nothing wrong and my colour and my family was something for me to be proud of.

The next 10 years or so passed by easier and I found that for the most part, that life was good and that although I was always the spectacle at the feast, I was for the most part, accepted. It helped in some ways that my stepfather had a really good job, I went to private school and that we were in their eyes a middle class family not sponging off the system. I kid you not - these things counted. These things didn't count though, with the people that would have preferred that I had been malnutritioned and one of the 'victims' that they had made donations to via Live Aid or something! But I had regained my confidence after a couple of years and there's nothing like a constant stream of interest from boys to keep a teenage black girl in Dublin rather occupied!

My mum sounds very English, that is until she loses her temper and then she sounds very Jamaican, and has found it difficult in her 17 years in Dublin but takes no hostages. She rallied for all of us and God help anyone who doled out that their prejudice on us. She let us fight our own battles but often worked quietly behind the scenes to ensure that her children were protected and got the happiness and quality of school life out of their schools that everyone else took for granted. At other times she was louder - When my now 19 year old brother was being bullied at school by a lad who told people not to touch him or breathe his air, or be his friend because he was black, and the teacher made no effort to resolve it for ages, my mum turned up and named and shamed him in front of his classmates and the teacher and gave him some lessons on acceptance and race. That was the end of his bullying, although we were mort-i-fied by her carry-on! My brother however reaped the benefits and eventually left school very popular.

One of my funniest things about Dublin from when I worked in retail was when I would say to a customer 'Hello there. May I help you?' and the customer would shout, 'DO-YOU-SPEAK-ENGLISH?' or 'WHAT-PART-OF-AFRICA-ARE-YOU-FROM?' Or when I had a research job at a radio station and an old lady told me that she hated 'n*gger music'!

Less funnier things however, include:

- Being invited for a sleepover with several other girls and the mum saying that everyone else could stay and not me. She later admitted to my mother that she just wasn't comfortable with 'it'.
- My so-called best friend at 15 years old screamed 'n*gger' at me in front of more people than I care to remember because I got together with the guy that I didn't know she wanted.
- I was harassed for a number of months by some uncouth youths who threatened to rape me and taunted me whenever they saw me. They were banned from pretty much every shop and even the train station. They did stop for a time and then broke into my mothers car. My mum saw them loitering later that week, popped home, got her African drum and put a kaftan on. She then drove back to them and beat the drum and chanted and pretended that she was a voodoo queen (she's not). They never bothered me again, returned her wallet with the cash!
- When I broke up with an ex after 2.5 years, he told me that one of his relatives had told him that I was a great girl but he shouldn't marry me because our kids would "neither be fish nor foul"....
- I was racially harassed by a work colleague 5 years ago that culminated in a very public and painful process, where he was suspended, I was harassed by the trade union, I told the company that I'd leave it in their capable hands to do the right thing, he came back to work with a feeble written apology and so-called promises of therapy and one month later he was promoted.
- I was harassed by a guy at university here in London because I was black, he was black and apparently that meant that I should be his property. I made it very clear from the outset that I wasn't interested, but he was very intimidating and it blew up into a nasty row where he launched a tirade at me in front of my classmates and even got a little physical (I won't bore you all with the horrid story!) He was expelled for a number of things including my incident.

I must say that I overall had a good experience in Dublin and it is and always will be my home, but it also taught me that whatever ideas I have about having the right to be accepted like everyone else, I have enough self-awareness to realise that it's not how everyone sees it. I think that despite some of the horrible things that have happened to me, I know for a fact it could be worse. It's given me a more realistic view of the world and much as I know I'm normal, and I know that I'm supposed to be accepted, I'm also wise enough to know that there are people out there that mean people from other races harm and that means that I don't always speak my mind (surprise, surprise), I do look over my shoulder at night, and I do have secret worries for my future mini-me's.

I keep hearing stories of people witnessing the verbal abuse of Asian men who 'look' Muslim on the Tube, with and without rucksacks. July 7th and the myriad of emotions I felt is something that I would hope to never go through again, but in the type of world we live in, it is quite possible that it will happen again. 52 people lost their lives in that atrocity, some were people that my own friends knew.

The events of July 7th are not an opportunity for people to be racist and it is not an opportunity for us to fuel our people with hatred. It certainly was not an opportunity for people that already may have had 'race issues' to think that they can say and do as they please. I'm scared on the tube but never in a million years would I dream of abusing a passenger. I reported an unattended bag the other day and it could have been the black guy sitting close by, or the Asian man, or it could have been the group of white men sitting close to it, or the black women close by. But instead of playing Abuser NML, I just reported it.

People do act on fear, but we need to act responsibly and try to have some rationality. We need to realise that treating people with racial contempt is not the key to resolving the problems of the world and will actually only divide us more, making it even easier for terrorism to permeate our society and for hatred to weave itself into the fabric of the majority's lives. Being racist, being hateful, being a terrorist, committing senseless crimes is something that should be for a very small minority.

Staying Upbeat

I'm on the phone to my mother explaining that I have a lump but that there's no reason to panic. Twenty minutes later and I must have repeated the statement 'Seriously ma. I'm not worrying myself. I will try alternative therapy' about a gazillion times (yes I exaggerate) and still she rabbled and babbled on and bless her, I know she was just doing mummy duty, but by the end of the conversation I felt like I was on my last legs and wanted to scream 'SHUT THE F*CK UP!'. I obviously would never say this to her because my mum is a Jamaican mummy and I wouldn't live to tell the tale after I got an arse whupping. And then...

NML: I have to go. I told you I'm going shopping. (things for the flat not shoes!)
MA: Where are you? (sounding very suspicious)
NML: I'm....er....I'm, I'm outside Kilburn Park Station. (feeling very nervous now and feel myself holding my breath)
MA: ARE YOU F*CKING CRAZY? Turn your backside around and walk back to the bus stop. Shame on you! You live up the road from central London! In fact, you practically live in central London! Get.The.Bus. If a bomb goes off when you're on the tube you'll be done for in that tunnel. Get on the bus and stay on the bottom desk. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?
NML: Yes mum. I'm almost at the bus stop now.
MA: Good. Make sure you buy yourself something nice. Maybe a pair of shoes?
NML: I brought 3 yesterday. (Description of my shoes follows)
MA: Oooh! I brought a few pairs of shoes myself this week!

I spent my Saturday night chilling watching Big Brother followed by House Partyon dvd where I giggled on my own under the blanket on the sofa. It would have been lovely if there was a buff man to massage my aching body but my own company was great nonetheless. I couldn't face going out on Saturday as my body had gone into a decline and felt achy all over and it hurt to walk.

Last night my brother took me out for dinner to Gordon Ramseys new restaurant Maze, which was fabulous. It's tapas with a French and Asian influence and we had 11 dishes plus several very expensive cocktails. My favourite was the tempura and monkfish and the scallops which were in this delightful curry. My brother is still on crutches after his drunken accident a month ago (fell out of a window he was climbing into and broke 4 toes, fractured his leg a number of times and ripped the cartilage in his knee) and I really felt for him. He is such an active, mobile person and he can't do very much and you can see that it's made him feel a bit down. For a party animal, being confined to pretty much going to work and coming home with an occasional outing is very hard. He resents feeling like an invalid and won't admit that he needs more help. He nearly brought a tear to my eye when he sang happy birthday to me in the restaurant and being the right socialite he is, he loved celeb spotting the owner (Gordon Ramsey) sitting a little away from us.

Today has been a bit of a struggle, mostly because I have been in excruciating pain at times. In my excitement during the daily Big Brother debate at work, I gesticulated and the pain that washed over my shoulder was unbelievable. The stupid lump is sitting between my neck and my shoulder and the pain is spreading down my arm. My legs are killing me and you'd swear I'd done a marathon instead of being at my desk for most of the day. I tripped in my new shoes on my way home this evening and threw my left arm out to steady myself. Big mistake. I'm still feeling the effects now!

Thanks to everyone for their lovely comments of support. Whatever pain I'm in, I'm smiling and doing my best to stay positive. I have added this to hopefully answer some of the FAQs re the illness.

It's my last week in Big Blogger so do check out the posts. Our last task is to write 7 posts around anything related to the number 7. My posts so far for this task are: Sickness is as Sickness Does, 7 Men to Date..& Let Go Of, and 7 Habits of Highly Effective NML
Do check out the posts and cast your vote for whoever you feel deserves to win (and no that does not mean me!)