Its bad enough being single without finding out, month after month, that your friends are either getting married or having children, or both. When I was 35, I was actually really happy to hear of friends getting married and being pregnant. Now I'm 41, I hate hearing it. I get so jealous seeing pregnant women on the tube. I constantly look at mens ring fingers to see if they are married. I just can't help myself. I see a good looking chap over 40 on the tube, not wearing a ring, and I almost will him to look at me.. maybe it would be love at first sight. Mostly, said man is buried in the paper.
The worst though, is hearing about your ex boyfriends finding love and being happy. Year after year it happens. The love of my life was unfaithful and I don't think I ever forgave him. I tried, but every time he came back late or phoned to say he was working I became suspicious. I never ever trusted him again and it finally became too much for both of us and we split up. We were engaged at the time. The announcement had gone in the the Times and Telegraph and when he saw it, he freaked out. I think he knew what I knew, that it was just not right. I probably would have gone through with it, and 2 years down the line, regretted it. BUT, 2 months later he met another woman. Whilst I had to leave the country (and travel round India for 3 months) just to be away from him, he went out and got drunk one night, in the Long Island Ice Tea Bar (of all places) and met a Thai girl. One month later, she was was pregnant. 6 months later they were married. Talk about rebound!!!
The thing that upset me most was that we had so many mutual friends that went to the wedding. I thought, on the day of their wedding... can't you see this is wrong? It should be me!! No one thought it would work, no one thought they would stay together. In fact, most friends said that although they liked the Thai bride, they thought maybe she was just really clever and and had got what she wanted. Cynical and just a bit racist maybe. But, 11 years later, they are still together and with 2 gorgeous children. I hate them!
The one after the love of my life, was gorgeous. A total hunk. I wondered why he was with ME! I was smitten, he wasn't. His career was more important. He moved to Singapore and now has a new wife and child.
The next ex called me from Venice, a few months after we split up, just to tell me how happy he was, and that he was engaged. Thanks for that. We had talked about going to Venice ourselves. I had always told people that I would only go to Venice with a husband or a lover and to have my ex call up from Venice and gloat was all a bit much!
The next ex, a commander in the Navy, decided his love was the sea and not me.
The one after, a cousin (by marriage only, and very distant) took another girl to Morocco after I had suggested it. He recently told me his new girlfriend was pregnant.
The ex after that, decided he was still in love with his ex wife and couldn't have a relationship until he sorted his head out!
It seems, a lot of my life, I have been the one, before the one they marry. As if I was some sort of training ground to make them marriage material. It does seem unfair. A few of them have thanked me for making them better men. Does that mean I nagged them to death about certain things and only when we split up did they realise I was right? I wonder if I can ever be compatible with a man again? Have I got so used to being alone (my last serious boyfriend was the one in love with his ex wife... about 4 moths ago) that I show I'm too independent? I went on a internet date with an architect and we had a lovely time but on the way home he said "you give the impression you are so happy with your life and don't really need anyone". I was gobsmacked! Thats my confidence taking over, pretending to be fine and not actually betraying how lonely I am. I guess I need to find some sort of balance...
Its 4:30 am and I am writing this after being out with a gay friend for dinner. I made a desperate last attempt to ask him if he would help father my child. He said no. I came home about 2 hours ago, drunk, and have just watched "When Harry met Sally" for about the thirtieth time. Now I write... now I sleep.
Saturday, 29 August 2009
Friday, 28 August 2009
My dream
I had a dream last night that I was on a bus with all my close friends and family and everyone was having a great time, talking and laughing, apart from me. I was sitting there on my own, looking about 12 years old with my head down (I sometimes have these dreams where I am watching myself in the dream, as a third person, usually from above!) looking very sad and alone. Suddenly my Mother stands up and shouts "So when are you ever going to get married darling?" and looks around at everyone encouraging a reaction. The whole bus is silent and then as one, they look at me and all erupt in laughter. Nasty, loud laughter, as if this was the funniest joke they had ever heard. I then woke up. Not a good start to the day, feeling utterly shit about yourself!!
Why does everything take so long??
All I want is a credit report.. is that so hard?? But of course it is, because I want it now and me wanting it NOW, means I have to wait about a week. Even the website is suspicious of my credibility now. When I got a credit check a few years ago, in the golden era of me being slightly well off, I got one on-line immediately. Now the same people say I have to wait for a PIN number and need to get much more info from me over the phone, so I call them in my lunch hour and they say they can't discuss it with me over the phone, that I have to wait for my PIN. Then I need to log on and then call them. WHAT??? None of it makes sense!
I have, however, managed to set up 3 visits from estate agents to value my flat next Friday. They are like blood sucking leeches aren't they? Not content to just come and see my flat, as asked, they have taken matters in their own hands and now pester me with text messages and emails suggesting houses I might like to buy... not even in my area!!! I had to make up a story saying I was thinking of selling my flat and moving to the country (all I need their evaluations for is getting a new mortgage but I didn't want them to feel used or anything.. ha!) and now I get details of houses that are not even in my price range. I friend once said that the best thing to do with unwanted mail is to put "RETURN TO SENDER" on the front over and over again and they will stop. Might wait til after next Friday for that!!
Wednesday, 26 August 2009
Bit of bad news
So, I have been preparing myself with the fact that I might have to do the baby thing alone... meaning NO father so to speak. I have been thinking ahead and wondering what on earth I will tell people about who the father is.
If I get the sperm from the UK then I will have only a number. So if and when I get pregnant, I can actually tell people, after the old 3 month scan etc. that "The father of my child is number 4283. He's white, 6' tall with blonde hair and blue eyes, he is a graduate and has no history of any life threatening diseases." Dah dahhhh! That is all I will know.
If, however I get my sperm from the European sperm bank, I will have a name, and judging by the website, most of the guys seem to be from northern Europe with names like Hanns and Mickel and Gram. I will also, however, have a baby photo so I can always download that and present it to everyone who asks with.. "The Father of my child is called Hanns and look how cute he is as a child" as I proffer said photo! Weird huh?
A few years ago, a friend of mine announced she was pregnant, at the age of 42 and when we all gasped and said that we had no idea she was even involved with a man, she said "I'm not. A friend helped me out." To this day, she has never divulged who got her pregnant. I now wonder, whether, just maybe she went down the donor route and was too embarrassed to say. Do I make up a story and give Hanns some kind of emotional background, in relation to me? Should I just tell people that I had some mad affair with a gorgeous man called Hanns but that he went back to Norway and I have no way of contacting him, so he will never know about the baby, but that's just fine, I will raise it alone. Or do I come clean with everyone and tell them "well, I am pregnant and I'm thrilled but I will never know the father of my child, not will my baby. It was donated sperm!"
Actually, the last bit is not strictly true because as I mentioned, a blog ago, the baby, once reaching 18, can actually find out who number 4283 is. If the sperm is from the UK, the new law allows the offspring (once they reach adult age) to log on to the National Sibling database and find, not only their donor father, but who else has been fathered by number 4283. Apparently, it is all a bit of a big love in... not only sperm donor babies finding their fathers, but finding their half siblings. The website is www.donorsiblingregistry.com and there are hundreds of messages on there, from children asking if anyone has their same donor father? Its quite strange but absolutely brilliant. If I was brought up knowing that I was born from a donor that may have also enabled 10 other women to have children, then I too would want to know if I had brothers and sisters. There are amazing stories of yearly, if not monthly reunions with all donor siblings getting together and hanging out!! Huge extended families!!
If I had European sperm however, (cheaper and donors supply more physical and historical information) they are not allowed to be contacted. They are anonymous. Maybe that's why there are thousands more donors.. They all get paid (expenses.. because apparently its illegal to PAY donors but their expenses can be met. So a little shifty shuffle each week for an hour might mean taxis, to and from the clinic, plus whatever their hourly working rate is... it means, essentially, donors get paid about £250 a go!) But the European donors are always anonymous, no one can ever find them. This was the case in the UK until 2007.. Gordon Brown decided donors should be able to be contacted in the same way as mothers giving their children up for adoption! So, you see why there is a decline in UK donors!!
BUT, neither I or my child might ever know who the father is... would I want to? Would it be too much to live with, never knowing exactly who the father is. At least, women who get pregnant by one night stands, know (maybe vaguely, if alcohol played a major part) what the father looked like. He might be some drunken loser from the local pub, a friend or someone that just wanted to help out.. at least you they have some visual memory to go by.
Anyway, I digress... the reason this blog is called Bit of Bad news is that it may now never happen. Its not set in stone, but I got an email from my mortgage adviser today who suddenly told me that my credit rating was so low it was doubtful I would be able to release ANY equity from my flat, let alone £20,000! I needed at least £20,000 to pay off my credit card, the tax man, my parents, my loan and my accountant. It adds up to £18,000 and then the remaining £2,000 was going towards the treatment at the Womens Clinic! My mortgage man told me (a month ago and before he knew that I'd been unemployed for 2 months and lapsed on my loan and mortgage) that I could get £25,000 released and still only pay £700 a month rent. Fabulous, I thought. I could pay off everything and then have £7,000 to have to try and have baby and save some too. However, today, after hearing about my woes, he got back to me saying I had such bad credit that it was unlikely I would get a good mortgage let alone release any equity. Mortgage companies are scared, they don't want to take on the risk!!
For the last 12 years, credit card companies have thrown offers at me... upping my credit limit.. here's £12,000 pounds more, spend spend spend. Black cards, platinum cards.. take us, use us, get more!! Now, after only 2 months of being a bit broke and trying to do my best.. calling everyone and explaining the down turn and lack of freelance design work and offering them as much money as I can afford, my credit rating has slipped to that of a DSS person, on the dole their whole adult life!! Its so unfair! I'm working again, good money, good amount of hours. I've explained I can now pay everything to the full amount. But it doesn't matter. I'm now scarred with that 2 months of unemployment! Thats all they see... not my 12 years of being the golden girl!
I now have to wait... I have to get my credit report and bank statements and invoices and my whole life, and give it to these people. I have to prove my flat has gone up in value from £148,000 (that I bought it for in 2003) to £210,000. I have to get evaluations from 3 different estate agents. Only then, will the mortgage comanies revue my case and see if they can give me a good offer. I have three estate agents coming round next Friday. We will see.
If... I cant release equity on my flat, it basically means no baby. I have no money to pay for treatment. So, does that mean, every time, in the next few months, I am fertile, I go out and try and get some random male to have sex with me, without a condom?? Give men a bit of credit here. There actually probably aren't a lot of males who will have unprotected sex on a one night stand!!! And why should they? And also, why would I want that? God.. they could be riddled with disease, I know nothing about them..no, no no!!!
I got a postcard from my mother last week. I thought she might say sorry for saying she didn't think I would have children, or say sorry for saying I should ask my doctor for a hysterectomy whilst I writhed in agony for 3 days... she did say sorry in her own way but it showed such little understanding of what I am going through. She made no reference to what we had talked about or what I told her. She's like a very stoic brick wall, traditional, strong and practical.
Over the years I have had 3 laparoscopy's, 2 colposcopy's, several internal ultrasounds, a couple of scrapes.. all to get to the bottom of my terrible, disabling period pains. They found a fibroid the size of a tennis ball on the inside wall of my uterus. They told me it would not affect me getting pregnant nor carrying a baby but it might be a monor cause of pain. BUT it wasn't worth removing! For the last 3 years, I have had to take at least 1 day off each month because my cramps are so intense, I cannot stand. For the last 6 months, it is now 2 days of pain. I lie in bed with a hot water bottle on my tummy and one on my back, pain killers (now a strong codeine thanks to my Doctor) every two hours and yet nothing eases the agony. I have canceled numerous parties, dinners, drinks, weekends because of this pain. I'm sure my friends just think I have a hangover or something. Yet, the one time I was sent to a specialist, a man revered for his gyneological skills, also known in St. Thomas's Hospital as "the baby doctor" (because he solves all womens problems and then they can get pregnant)!! At the end of my intense tests and last laparoscopy, he announced triumphantly, that "I think your period pains would be a thing of the past if you just got pregnant". I sat there, open mouthed, totally stunned and said "so, that it? After all these tests, the only cure is for me to get pregnant? I'm not sure if my records show that I am single.What do you propose Doctor?" He looked embarrassed. I shrugged and said "Heh, maybe you should start a dating agency attached to this department?"
No one seems to truly understand how many women are out there, beautiful, educated, lovely... yet they haven't found love or even, a man who they can have children with. For a highly educated and revered Doctor to say "why don't you just get pregnant" is not only insulting but totally unfeeling and ignorant. My mother knows all this, she has been through it all with me. She hasn't really offered opinion or sympathy, just support in being there, offering me pills and hot water bottles. In her postcard, she wrote:
"My darling, you can't imagine the anguish and helplessness that I feel on hearing you tell me all the pain and suffering you undergo every month - I just want to wave a magic wand. You seem to have gone through every channel with no satisfactory outcome and it is so difficult to keep a positive attitude for that and bearing a healthy child. You have so much to offer in life."
Isn't that last bit strange?? Bearing a healthy child... not sure what to think about that but I know her last sentence "you have so much to offer in life" reflects what she said to me before.. just get on with it, forget about having a baby and move on. Maybe I will. Who knows what will happen in the next month. If I get the money I'm going for it. If I don't... then, maybe I will go and volunteer abroad.. work for a charity... surround myself with people that really really need me. I think, deep deep down, I just want someone to love me, unconditionally. If that isn't my own child then maybe other people who need my love more.
If I get the sperm from the UK then I will have only a number. So if and when I get pregnant, I can actually tell people, after the old 3 month scan etc. that "The father of my child is number 4283. He's white, 6' tall with blonde hair and blue eyes, he is a graduate and has no history of any life threatening diseases." Dah dahhhh! That is all I will know.
If, however I get my sperm from the European sperm bank, I will have a name, and judging by the website, most of the guys seem to be from northern Europe with names like Hanns and Mickel and Gram. I will also, however, have a baby photo so I can always download that and present it to everyone who asks with.. "The Father of my child is called Hanns and look how cute he is as a child" as I proffer said photo! Weird huh?
A few years ago, a friend of mine announced she was pregnant, at the age of 42 and when we all gasped and said that we had no idea she was even involved with a man, she said "I'm not. A friend helped me out." To this day, she has never divulged who got her pregnant. I now wonder, whether, just maybe she went down the donor route and was too embarrassed to say. Do I make up a story and give Hanns some kind of emotional background, in relation to me? Should I just tell people that I had some mad affair with a gorgeous man called Hanns but that he went back to Norway and I have no way of contacting him, so he will never know about the baby, but that's just fine, I will raise it alone. Or do I come clean with everyone and tell them "well, I am pregnant and I'm thrilled but I will never know the father of my child, not will my baby. It was donated sperm!"
Actually, the last bit is not strictly true because as I mentioned, a blog ago, the baby, once reaching 18, can actually find out who number 4283 is. If the sperm is from the UK, the new law allows the offspring (once they reach adult age) to log on to the National Sibling database and find, not only their donor father, but who else has been fathered by number 4283. Apparently, it is all a bit of a big love in... not only sperm donor babies finding their fathers, but finding their half siblings. The website is www.donorsiblingregistry.com and there are hundreds of messages on there, from children asking if anyone has their same donor father? Its quite strange but absolutely brilliant. If I was brought up knowing that I was born from a donor that may have also enabled 10 other women to have children, then I too would want to know if I had brothers and sisters. There are amazing stories of yearly, if not monthly reunions with all donor siblings getting together and hanging out!! Huge extended families!!
If I had European sperm however, (cheaper and donors supply more physical and historical information) they are not allowed to be contacted. They are anonymous. Maybe that's why there are thousands more donors.. They all get paid (expenses.. because apparently its illegal to PAY donors but their expenses can be met. So a little shifty shuffle each week for an hour might mean taxis, to and from the clinic, plus whatever their hourly working rate is... it means, essentially, donors get paid about £250 a go!) But the European donors are always anonymous, no one can ever find them. This was the case in the UK until 2007.. Gordon Brown decided donors should be able to be contacted in the same way as mothers giving their children up for adoption! So, you see why there is a decline in UK donors!!
BUT, neither I or my child might ever know who the father is... would I want to? Would it be too much to live with, never knowing exactly who the father is. At least, women who get pregnant by one night stands, know (maybe vaguely, if alcohol played a major part) what the father looked like. He might be some drunken loser from the local pub, a friend or someone that just wanted to help out.. at least you they have some visual memory to go by.
Anyway, I digress... the reason this blog is called Bit of Bad news is that it may now never happen. Its not set in stone, but I got an email from my mortgage adviser today who suddenly told me that my credit rating was so low it was doubtful I would be able to release ANY equity from my flat, let alone £20,000! I needed at least £20,000 to pay off my credit card, the tax man, my parents, my loan and my accountant. It adds up to £18,000 and then the remaining £2,000 was going towards the treatment at the Womens Clinic! My mortgage man told me (a month ago and before he knew that I'd been unemployed for 2 months and lapsed on my loan and mortgage) that I could get £25,000 released and still only pay £700 a month rent. Fabulous, I thought. I could pay off everything and then have £7,000 to have to try and have baby and save some too. However, today, after hearing about my woes, he got back to me saying I had such bad credit that it was unlikely I would get a good mortgage let alone release any equity. Mortgage companies are scared, they don't want to take on the risk!!
For the last 12 years, credit card companies have thrown offers at me... upping my credit limit.. here's £12,000 pounds more, spend spend spend. Black cards, platinum cards.. take us, use us, get more!! Now, after only 2 months of being a bit broke and trying to do my best.. calling everyone and explaining the down turn and lack of freelance design work and offering them as much money as I can afford, my credit rating has slipped to that of a DSS person, on the dole their whole adult life!! Its so unfair! I'm working again, good money, good amount of hours. I've explained I can now pay everything to the full amount. But it doesn't matter. I'm now scarred with that 2 months of unemployment! Thats all they see... not my 12 years of being the golden girl!
I now have to wait... I have to get my credit report and bank statements and invoices and my whole life, and give it to these people. I have to prove my flat has gone up in value from £148,000 (that I bought it for in 2003) to £210,000. I have to get evaluations from 3 different estate agents. Only then, will the mortgage comanies revue my case and see if they can give me a good offer. I have three estate agents coming round next Friday. We will see.
If... I cant release equity on my flat, it basically means no baby. I have no money to pay for treatment. So, does that mean, every time, in the next few months, I am fertile, I go out and try and get some random male to have sex with me, without a condom?? Give men a bit of credit here. There actually probably aren't a lot of males who will have unprotected sex on a one night stand!!! And why should they? And also, why would I want that? God.. they could be riddled with disease, I know nothing about them..no, no no!!!
I got a postcard from my mother last week. I thought she might say sorry for saying she didn't think I would have children, or say sorry for saying I should ask my doctor for a hysterectomy whilst I writhed in agony for 3 days... she did say sorry in her own way but it showed such little understanding of what I am going through. She made no reference to what we had talked about or what I told her. She's like a very stoic brick wall, traditional, strong and practical.
Over the years I have had 3 laparoscopy's, 2 colposcopy's, several internal ultrasounds, a couple of scrapes.. all to get to the bottom of my terrible, disabling period pains. They found a fibroid the size of a tennis ball on the inside wall of my uterus. They told me it would not affect me getting pregnant nor carrying a baby but it might be a monor cause of pain. BUT it wasn't worth removing! For the last 3 years, I have had to take at least 1 day off each month because my cramps are so intense, I cannot stand. For the last 6 months, it is now 2 days of pain. I lie in bed with a hot water bottle on my tummy and one on my back, pain killers (now a strong codeine thanks to my Doctor) every two hours and yet nothing eases the agony. I have canceled numerous parties, dinners, drinks, weekends because of this pain. I'm sure my friends just think I have a hangover or something. Yet, the one time I was sent to a specialist, a man revered for his gyneological skills, also known in St. Thomas's Hospital as "the baby doctor" (because he solves all womens problems and then they can get pregnant)!! At the end of my intense tests and last laparoscopy, he announced triumphantly, that "I think your period pains would be a thing of the past if you just got pregnant". I sat there, open mouthed, totally stunned and said "so, that it? After all these tests, the only cure is for me to get pregnant? I'm not sure if my records show that I am single.What do you propose Doctor?" He looked embarrassed. I shrugged and said "Heh, maybe you should start a dating agency attached to this department?"
No one seems to truly understand how many women are out there, beautiful, educated, lovely... yet they haven't found love or even, a man who they can have children with. For a highly educated and revered Doctor to say "why don't you just get pregnant" is not only insulting but totally unfeeling and ignorant. My mother knows all this, she has been through it all with me. She hasn't really offered opinion or sympathy, just support in being there, offering me pills and hot water bottles. In her postcard, she wrote:
"My darling, you can't imagine the anguish and helplessness that I feel on hearing you tell me all the pain and suffering you undergo every month - I just want to wave a magic wand. You seem to have gone through every channel with no satisfactory outcome and it is so difficult to keep a positive attitude for that and bearing a healthy child. You have so much to offer in life."
Isn't that last bit strange?? Bearing a healthy child... not sure what to think about that but I know her last sentence "you have so much to offer in life" reflects what she said to me before.. just get on with it, forget about having a baby and move on. Maybe I will. Who knows what will happen in the next month. If I get the money I'm going for it. If I don't... then, maybe I will go and volunteer abroad.. work for a charity... surround myself with people that really really need me. I think, deep deep down, I just want someone to love me, unconditionally. If that isn't my own child then maybe other people who need my love more.
Friday, 21 August 2009
Oh texts!
So just when I was getting my head around the fact that I would have to go through this whole sperm donor business alone, I get a text. From Mac. He texted : 'I was just thinking about you and this sperm donor business and I want to help. Now don't get your hopes up because you might be disappointed but I might be able to help financially. I have to see how the heart surgery goes but after that, we'll see.'
Heart surgery? What? And also, double what? Help.. with the costs of sperm donation? I know this man, his text was a double edged sword. Lets text the girl that I adore, (yet have let down numerous times because I have lied about my marital situation) and tell I her I still want to be part of her life (and control her and make her love me again) by offering her money to pay for someone else to be the father of her child. How just sick is that? OK, cynical thoughts aside, maybe he is genuinely feeling bad and genuinely wants me to be happy, thus, have a baby. Maybe he thinks, I don't want to father the child myself but by offering to help with the money side of things, she will be so happy and thankful (and be indebted to me for life!) OK that is cynical but how on earth am I supposed to react to that?
I texted back: 'Mac, I appreciate you want to help but it's wrong. You mention you might be able to help but then tell me not to get my hopes up? My whole relationship with you is about not getting my hopes up... about trusting you. It's just not right. Oh and heart surgery? Hello?'
He texted back: 'I'm having heart surgery in September. Apparently my heart keeps stopping so I need surgery for it. I'm surprised I didn't have a massive coronary after what we got up to in the Lakes!! Ha ha!'
Is this all a bit odd or is it just me? NOW, he tells me he has a weak heart. Oh for Gods sake. Do I feel sympathy suddenly... I don't know. And what do I make of his offer to help financially? I don't want to be indebted to this man. I once thought maybe this man could be the father of my child and now he wants to help someone else be the father. I honestly don't know what to think. There are only a few people that know about this blog so it's difficult to know what to think. I need advice.
Heart surgery? What? And also, double what? Help.. with the costs of sperm donation? I know this man, his text was a double edged sword. Lets text the girl that I adore, (yet have let down numerous times because I have lied about my marital situation) and tell I her I still want to be part of her life (and control her and make her love me again) by offering her money to pay for someone else to be the father of her child. How just sick is that? OK, cynical thoughts aside, maybe he is genuinely feeling bad and genuinely wants me to be happy, thus, have a baby. Maybe he thinks, I don't want to father the child myself but by offering to help with the money side of things, she will be so happy and thankful (and be indebted to me for life!) OK that is cynical but how on earth am I supposed to react to that?
I texted back: 'Mac, I appreciate you want to help but it's wrong. You mention you might be able to help but then tell me not to get my hopes up? My whole relationship with you is about not getting my hopes up... about trusting you. It's just not right. Oh and heart surgery? Hello?'
He texted back: 'I'm having heart surgery in September. Apparently my heart keeps stopping so I need surgery for it. I'm surprised I didn't have a massive coronary after what we got up to in the Lakes!! Ha ha!'
Is this all a bit odd or is it just me? NOW, he tells me he has a weak heart. Oh for Gods sake. Do I feel sympathy suddenly... I don't know. And what do I make of his offer to help financially? I don't want to be indebted to this man. I once thought maybe this man could be the father of my child and now he wants to help someone else be the father. I honestly don't know what to think. There are only a few people that know about this blog so it's difficult to know what to think. I need advice.
Thursday, 20 August 2009
What next?
If I have to do this alone then so be it.
I reserved a place at a Harley Street clinic specialising in Sperm Donation, amusingly called the Inseminar, oh very witty! It was 2 weeks ago. A week after I had returned from my disastrous escapade in the Lake District with the infamous Mac. I was apprehensive but a friend of mine decided that she would come too. Her mother (a respected doctor in her own right) had listened carefully to Ellen's explanation of what she was planning and was very "gung ho" with the idea. Ellen is one of six children, all very successful doctors, lawyers, teachers and property developers. Her mother said it would be such a waste for Ellen not to have a child because her genes were so incredible. I love that!
My mother, on the other hand, sat on my bed, one hour before the Inseminar, looking incredulous at the brochure I had given her to read. "So darling, you won't know the father of the child?" "No, mummy, thats the whole point. Its donor sperm". She read for another 5 minutes and sighed. "Well, what do you think? You know I've always wanted a child and I just can't wait for my perfect soulmate to come along. I have waited 10 years for him and it simply hasn't happened. I'm 41 and want a child and so I think this maybe the only way that I can go. Don't you think its worth at least giving it a try? And then, if it doesn't work, well at least I know I've done all I can and can then move on and accept that maybe I will be childless". My mother sighed again. "Did you not think I'd have children mummy. Were you not worried that I was leaving it a bit late?"
My mother had previously (after many tearful conversations about how I was being left behind by all my friends having babies) told me not to worry. That I had many female relatives that had children late in life and that I would be fine. Now, however, she looked at me with the resigned look of having talked about this too many times. "Darling, to be honest I always thought you would marry someone with children. Maybe someone divorced or widowed. I didn't think you would ever have children of your own." I was utterly gobsmacked. "What? You've never said that to me before, what do you mean?" "I just never thought you would have children of your own, I've felt that for the last few years." I started to cry. "But, Mummy, you've always told me how lucky I was to have good genes and stuff and that I would still be able to have children." "I know darling, and I said that so you wouldn't get upset". I sat down and sobbed. "Why would you say that? You know I have always wanted a baby and now you're saying you never thought I would. Oh my god. Well, thats just great." I didn't look at her and she just continued reading the brochure. "I'm sorrry darling but I just want you to be happy and I think you should just accept that you won't have children and move on." "No! I think at least it's worth me trying. Trying for a baby, don't you think it's worth trying at least and then if it doesn't work or if the doctors examine me and say it's impossible, then at least I'll know for sure?" I exclaimed. "I don't know darling but you know I just want you to be happy and I think this will be all too much."
We said no more and my mother closed the brochure. I dropped her at the train station and drove to Harley Street. Once inside the clinic, I was greeted by a cheerful nurse who ushered me into the waiting room. "Are you here for the Inseminar? Are you on your own?" "Yes" I said. I walked into the warm, yellow room and looked around. There were about 20 or so women, some, obviously in couples, others (looking awkward) alone. My friend Ellen had texted saying she would be late so I said I would save her a place. The Inseminar began. We were all given a friendly and very informative Powerpoint presentation about the scientific ways of conceiving without a man. Natural cycle sperm donation pregnancies, hormone aided and of course, full sperm donor IVF assisted pregnancies. The costs were glossed over. Ellen arrived, red faced and apologetic and took a seat beside me (at the back of the room). Some of the couples looked around and smiled as she gave me a big hug and a kiss. Did they think we were a couple? At the end of the presentation, questions were encouraged. Between Ellen and myself, we probably took up the next 10 minutes of the nurses time.
So how many donors were at the clinic?
How many donors might match our specific requests?
You are given the height, weight, eye colour, skin colour and educational background of your donor. They have already been checked for any sort of disease, hereditary or otherwise. There are no photos. Ellen asked about foreign donors and the nurse sighed. Obviously they want you to buy UK sperm, from them. She admitted that the ESB (European sperm bank) had on their books, thousands more donors. The sperm was cheaper to buy and you could see much more information about them. They have baby photos of themselves and a voice recording of them now. Wow, really? There is much more information about their family and background. The nurse answered some more questions.
If you have a child by one donor, can you have a second child by the same one?
Only if you reserve the sperm. Apparently, any one sperm donor can only have 10 children. It means you aren't going to have a child with hundreds of siblings. Well, thats good. But it means you really have to think ahead. You have to pre-buy your sperm to make sure no one else uses it!! All just a bit odd.
Can you bring someone with you to the insemination? (Ellen asked that?)
"We encourage bringing a loved one with you to all your meetings" the nurse says. Ellen leans over and whispers "I'll be bringing my cat then!" We giggled and a girl in front turned around and said "and my dog!!". It began to feel quite nice, sitting in this friendly room in such bizarre circumstances but knowing you are all there for the same reason. Many single women, in their late 30's early 40's would love to have a child. Whether they have been unlucky in love and haven't found the right one (Ellen and I) to women who's partner is infertile (the girl in front of us) to a lesbian couple wanting a family (about 10 couples around the room). Ellen and I kept asking questions and it was all quite fascinating really. Then a woman came in and was introduced as the financial director.. uh oh, here we go.
The cost of having one treatment.... the initital consultation, tests and blood work, cycle observation, sperm and finally insemination, costs roughly £2,500. For one shot!! And that is the basic treatment. Any additional things like hormone treatment, sperm storage etc cost more. Then, of course, if you aren't able to do things naturally you have to add IVF on top of all that. They do an offer of Buy one get one free for the IVF... how generous!! If your IVF fails twice and you are crying for weeks on end and you have the house re-mortgaged twice, at least you get another try for free! Cynical moi?
So now I need a serious think. In order to even try one go, naturally (meaning no extra costs) I have to find £2,500. Oh and I almost forgot to say... the success rate for over 40's is only 5%. 5%!!!!!!!!!! Thats so shockingly bad isn't it. But heh, as my sister pointed out, what price can you put on a baby? I might have to try several time, even 2o times. Then I will be bankrupt, fat as all hell (because by that stage my body will have had hormone injections up the cazoo) and miserable. To even get the initial money I am having to release equity on my flat... if they agree to it. My credit rating isn't fabulous due to having no work for the month of April and all my creditors gasping simultaneously! We will see!!
I reserved a place at a Harley Street clinic specialising in Sperm Donation, amusingly called the Inseminar, oh very witty! It was 2 weeks ago. A week after I had returned from my disastrous escapade in the Lake District with the infamous Mac. I was apprehensive but a friend of mine decided that she would come too. Her mother (a respected doctor in her own right) had listened carefully to Ellen's explanation of what she was planning and was very "gung ho" with the idea. Ellen is one of six children, all very successful doctors, lawyers, teachers and property developers. Her mother said it would be such a waste for Ellen not to have a child because her genes were so incredible. I love that!
My mother, on the other hand, sat on my bed, one hour before the Inseminar, looking incredulous at the brochure I had given her to read. "So darling, you won't know the father of the child?" "No, mummy, thats the whole point. Its donor sperm". She read for another 5 minutes and sighed. "Well, what do you think? You know I've always wanted a child and I just can't wait for my perfect soulmate to come along. I have waited 10 years for him and it simply hasn't happened. I'm 41 and want a child and so I think this maybe the only way that I can go. Don't you think its worth at least giving it a try? And then, if it doesn't work, well at least I know I've done all I can and can then move on and accept that maybe I will be childless". My mother sighed again. "Did you not think I'd have children mummy. Were you not worried that I was leaving it a bit late?"
My mother had previously (after many tearful conversations about how I was being left behind by all my friends having babies) told me not to worry. That I had many female relatives that had children late in life and that I would be fine. Now, however, she looked at me with the resigned look of having talked about this too many times. "Darling, to be honest I always thought you would marry someone with children. Maybe someone divorced or widowed. I didn't think you would ever have children of your own." I was utterly gobsmacked. "What? You've never said that to me before, what do you mean?" "I just never thought you would have children of your own, I've felt that for the last few years." I started to cry. "But, Mummy, you've always told me how lucky I was to have good genes and stuff and that I would still be able to have children." "I know darling, and I said that so you wouldn't get upset". I sat down and sobbed. "Why would you say that? You know I have always wanted a baby and now you're saying you never thought I would. Oh my god. Well, thats just great." I didn't look at her and she just continued reading the brochure. "I'm sorrry darling but I just want you to be happy and I think you should just accept that you won't have children and move on." "No! I think at least it's worth me trying. Trying for a baby, don't you think it's worth trying at least and then if it doesn't work or if the doctors examine me and say it's impossible, then at least I'll know for sure?" I exclaimed. "I don't know darling but you know I just want you to be happy and I think this will be all too much."
We said no more and my mother closed the brochure. I dropped her at the train station and drove to Harley Street. Once inside the clinic, I was greeted by a cheerful nurse who ushered me into the waiting room. "Are you here for the Inseminar? Are you on your own?" "Yes" I said. I walked into the warm, yellow room and looked around. There were about 20 or so women, some, obviously in couples, others (looking awkward) alone. My friend Ellen had texted saying she would be late so I said I would save her a place. The Inseminar began. We were all given a friendly and very informative Powerpoint presentation about the scientific ways of conceiving without a man. Natural cycle sperm donation pregnancies, hormone aided and of course, full sperm donor IVF assisted pregnancies. The costs were glossed over. Ellen arrived, red faced and apologetic and took a seat beside me (at the back of the room). Some of the couples looked around and smiled as she gave me a big hug and a kiss. Did they think we were a couple? At the end of the presentation, questions were encouraged. Between Ellen and myself, we probably took up the next 10 minutes of the nurses time.
So how many donors were at the clinic?
How many donors might match our specific requests?
You are given the height, weight, eye colour, skin colour and educational background of your donor. They have already been checked for any sort of disease, hereditary or otherwise. There are no photos. Ellen asked about foreign donors and the nurse sighed. Obviously they want you to buy UK sperm, from them. She admitted that the ESB (European sperm bank) had on their books, thousands more donors. The sperm was cheaper to buy and you could see much more information about them. They have baby photos of themselves and a voice recording of them now. Wow, really? There is much more information about their family and background. The nurse answered some more questions.
If you have a child by one donor, can you have a second child by the same one?
Only if you reserve the sperm. Apparently, any one sperm donor can only have 10 children. It means you aren't going to have a child with hundreds of siblings. Well, thats good. But it means you really have to think ahead. You have to pre-buy your sperm to make sure no one else uses it!! All just a bit odd.
Can you bring someone with you to the insemination? (Ellen asked that?)
"We encourage bringing a loved one with you to all your meetings" the nurse says. Ellen leans over and whispers "I'll be bringing my cat then!" We giggled and a girl in front turned around and said "and my dog!!". It began to feel quite nice, sitting in this friendly room in such bizarre circumstances but knowing you are all there for the same reason. Many single women, in their late 30's early 40's would love to have a child. Whether they have been unlucky in love and haven't found the right one (Ellen and I) to women who's partner is infertile (the girl in front of us) to a lesbian couple wanting a family (about 10 couples around the room). Ellen and I kept asking questions and it was all quite fascinating really. Then a woman came in and was introduced as the financial director.. uh oh, here we go.
The cost of having one treatment.... the initital consultation, tests and blood work, cycle observation, sperm and finally insemination, costs roughly £2,500. For one shot!! And that is the basic treatment. Any additional things like hormone treatment, sperm storage etc cost more. Then, of course, if you aren't able to do things naturally you have to add IVF on top of all that. They do an offer of Buy one get one free for the IVF... how generous!! If your IVF fails twice and you are crying for weeks on end and you have the house re-mortgaged twice, at least you get another try for free! Cynical moi?
So now I need a serious think. In order to even try one go, naturally (meaning no extra costs) I have to find £2,500. Oh and I almost forgot to say... the success rate for over 40's is only 5%. 5%!!!!!!!!!! Thats so shockingly bad isn't it. But heh, as my sister pointed out, what price can you put on a baby? I might have to try several time, even 2o times. Then I will be bankrupt, fat as all hell (because by that stage my body will have had hormone injections up the cazoo) and miserable. To even get the initial money I am having to release equity on my flat... if they agree to it. My credit rating isn't fabulous due to having no work for the month of April and all my creditors gasping simultaneously! We will see!!
Thursday, 6 August 2009
Sometimes things are left better alone
I should never have gone. I should have known it would end in tears, it always has with this man. But when I wrote the previous blog, I felt positive it was a good idea to meet him again. I had talked it over with my friend the night before and we both thought, why not, just go and have fun. It could be a new start etc etc. I had good memories of him... but then don't you always remember the good over the bad? I think its your own self protection mechanism. Well I'm not sure if you can have a visual memory lapse for over 2 years but when I saw Mac at the Penrith train station in the Lake District, I didn't recognise him.
Is it possible to remember someone taller, better looking and completely different? Can beer goggles last that long? Had my fantasy taken over and I was remebering him how I wanted, rather than what was real? Maybe it was because I was firstly looking out for a man with a puppy and there were none on the station platform. He had asked me to join him AND his PUPPY. Then a man started walking towards me with a big grin and a fully grown dog. The man was Mac. Shorter, plumper, ruddier and balding. As I hugged him, he said "you probably didn't recognise me" and laughed. I looked down at his dog and Mac said "this is Ned". I said "Ned is not a puppy, he's awfully cute but not a puppy".
Mac looked guilty "I thought if I sent you a puppy photo it might persuade you to come up". Oh. I smiled. "thats very naughty... so what else did you fib about??" He looked at his feet. "the cottage hasn't got 2 bedrooms and its tiny".
Now, I'm not being all Jane Austen but when Mac had invited me up to the Lakes, he had asked me to come as a friend, that there was no pressure for anything else to happen and that the cottage was beautiful, isolated and had 2 bedrooms. I believed him, why wouldn't I? Although I had already thought I would jump in his bed anyway, I thought maybe the first night I could play a little hard to get and have a great nights sleep and wake up all fresh faced and beautiful. When we got to the "cottage" my mouth fell open. It was a little room tagged on to the end of a big house (probably a converted stable or something). It was one room essentially with a kitchenette and a shower room. There was nowhere to sit apart from two tiny kitchen chairs or on the bed. I looked at Mac "so where are you sleeping?" He laughed. "Mac, you said it was an isolated 2 bedroom cottage, not a 1 bedroom extension about half a mile from Keswick on the main road." Mac rolled his eyes. "Ok so its a bit small but anyway, we don't need two bedrooms do we?" I was cross. It wasn't about the dog or the room really, it was being lied to, being made to look like a mug, being put in a situation that I wasn't prepared for. The view WAS rather nice though.
Whilst I was there, there were some genuinely hilarious moments, however. Having come to terms with the situation and acknowledging that I probably would have slept with Mac anyway, we went to bed early. I was aware the dog was watching and asked Mac to put him outside. "But its raining and poor Neddy will get all wet, won't you Ned, and we can't have that, no we can't. Because then you'll smell all wet doggy won't you and that won't be very nice will it? Does Auntie Jules mind you staying here if you are nice and quiet and lie down, there's a good boy... down Ned". Right, lets get things straight... do not start having a conversation with your dog whilst in the middle of foreplay, nor talk to it like a human, nor be cutesy with it and NEVER call me Auntie Jules to a dog! Just put the dog out-bloody-side!!!! When I realised Ned's feeling were more important than mine, another black mark went against Mac. Ned stayed. Sex continued for a few minutes until we heard Ned whining. "Oh for fucks sake Mac, put the bloody dog outside, I cannot do this with him inches away, whining!!" Mac rolled off me and sighed loudly. He then got up and wrapped a towel around his waist and went outside. He came back a few minutes later with a huge dog cage and put it against the wall. "Ned, in your cage. Daddy wants some sex!" Oh. My. God. Daddy?? Please NO!!
The whole thing had slightly put me off but Ned stayed in the cage, looking pissed off, whilst Mac grunted out the sound of the whining. It wasn't the reunion I had dreamt of!!
A few minutes later Ned was happily let out of his cage and paced the room with terrible dog breath. Poor Ned, I thought. He was a three year old red blooded male, not spayed and was forced to watch two humans copulate, how utterly revolting and frustrating for him. I wasn't sure who I had more sympathy for, him or myself. Mac was lying next to me with a huge smirk "still got it heh?" he grinned. "well to be honest, the atmosphere was slightly ruined by your whining, smelly dog. I couldn't tell who was panting, him or you!" He chuckled. "Well, I promise, back in London, I won't bring him to our next date, OK?" So, the conversation was already happening. What would happen after the weekend?
I had presumed, naively, that his two years of his (unanswered) emails to me meant that he was available, single even. I had not continued the relationship back in 2007 because I'd found out he was still living with his wife! I felt let down, humiliated and used back then, and wanted no part of a relationship where I was the other woman, the mistress, the tramp. I morally didn't like the idea and hated the thought of his wife and kids finding out and being hurt. I told Mac exactly how it made me feel and ended it. But here I was, lying next to Mac and out of his mouth was coming what I dreaded. He was still living at home with his wife and kids and was pretty happy, generally. He loved her still but was sleeping in a separate bedroom and hadn't had sex since he last saw me. I felt sick. I would never have gone up to Lakes if I had thought his marriage and living situation hadn't moved on and changed. "But what did you expect me to think?" I asked, "you knew how I felt two years ago... I told you I would never get involved with a married man, no matter what his living situation, I wouldn't be that person, and yet here you are, having lied to me about the dog, the cottage and now you tell me that you're still living at home etc. What did you think would happen Mac? Why am I here?" He looked sad. "I just thought we could pick up from where we left off and then be friends back in London, you know, the occasional dinner, maybe a night in a hotel, a weekend away, you know?" "A mistress you mean?" I said. "Well, if you want to put it like that.. then yes".
The thing is, I know a lot of women might read this and think, well what's the problem? He is virtually separated from his wife, they have separate bedrooms, they don't sleep together, just have some fun. I used to think that too... until all I could think about was how devastated his wife and kids would be if they found out. Maybe I'm too empathetic and should be more selfish but I just couldn't do it!! I looked at Mac. "You know that's never going to happen don't you? I haven't changed how I feel. I want babies and a family and a country cottage and your plan doesn't come anywhere near that. I won't be your bit on the side Mac. Never."
We didn't speak about it again until my last day.
Yes, I stayed up there. I thought I might enjoy a few days with him and see it as a last goodbye, if you will. We talked about everything but us. He asked me about having children, about my plan to maybe use a sperm donor. It actually caused a bit of a row. Two years ago when he first suggested me being his mistress, he suggested he buy or rent a little cottage and I could have his child and he would look after me and it would all be blissful. Now as he asked me about children, he said "God, I could never have more children, wouldn't want any, I'm way too old!" I reminded him of what he'd said two years ago and he looked genuinely surprised. "So, if I had decided that this time it would work out between us, how would you have dealt with me wanting a child??" He looked blank and said "Well, it doesn't matter because we're just going to be friends anyway. But I can still help out you know". "What do you mean" I said, "with the baby?" "God no, I mean I could drive you around if you need to do the shopping and stuff!" Oh thanks Mac.
We went on long walks and didn't speak, comfortable in each others silences. The Lakes are simply beautiful and being in a different part to where my family's house is (southern lakes) was amazing. The walks were staggering. Walking around Buttermere and Bassenthwaite took my mind off everything.
We went for pub lunches and evening meals in out of the way taverns. It was quite lovely but every few hours, reality would hit and we'd either become angry or sad with each other. He, more sad for me not wanting him under any circumstances. Me, more angry for having such high expectations that things would be different. Sad at my life staying the same. Sad that he lied, angry that he thought so little of me morally.
And when I get angry, everything starts pissing me off. I started noticing little foibles about him that I'd never noticed before. Apart from the initial shock of him having put on so much weight and generally looking very frumpy, middle ages and saggy, I noticed that he blows his nose constantly. A really loud, quick, sharp blow on a blue spotted hankie, almost every 5 minutes. Hankie, crusty and wet at the end of the day, placed on the bedside table and once, put on the kitchen table over breakfast until my look of fury made him put it back in his pocket. He chews with his mouth open and speaks with his mouth full so that little sprays of food shoot over the table and onto me or my plate during meals. He has admittedly reached middle age and in doing so, has started wearing his boxers and jeans above his waist line!! Why why why why do men do this after a certain age?? In fact all the things that were irritating me were things my father also does now he's getting older. Oh no!!!!
The worst thing, the most annoying, irritating, clenched fist inducing habit he has though is not knowing the width of his car. Mac would brake as soon as a car approached from the other direction and he would shout "all right on my side" when there was about a metre gap. He would slam on his brakes and wonder why so many other drivers were shaking their heads at him or shouting "get over, you wanker!" Not only does this constant braking and swerving make you feel a little car sick, it makes the journey so long!! The lovely narrow country lanes were a nightmare. The general rule on single lane roads are that whoever can stop most conveniently, stops in a space wide enough for two cars and lets the approaching car continue past. Mac did not understand this. On one steep hill, he slammed on his breaks as a car came towards us. The man found a wider bit of road and flashed Mac to continue uphill and pass him but Mac thought he was in a wider space (even though he was right in the middle of the road, scared he might scratch his paintwork if he got too far to the hedge) and flashed the man back. This continued several times with each flash of the mans lights getting more frantic. I shouted "Mac, just go, his place is wider, he can't pass you here!" which he ignored. Finally the man gave up and had to mount the grassy verge as he passed Macs car shouting as he passed "you fucking tosser, where'd you learn to drive?". I smirked out of the window, making sure Mac didn't see me. He was absolutely furious and screamed back "what.. you fuck! Come back here and say that!!" For the next half an hour he screamed every expletive known to man. I probably didn't help things when I said "Maybe honey, it would help if you just sped up a bit and didn't keep slamming on the brakes!" Oops. I then had the tirade for about ten minutes.
On our last day, there were tears (mine) and shouting (mine) and pleading (his). I'm still not sure how we exactly left it. He wants to be friends. I can't be friends. Never have been able to the "friends" thing with exes of any kind. Once I've been intimate with someone and had such strong feelings, I can't seem to go a step backwards. Maybe that's something i can change, I don't know.
What I do feel is incredibly disappointed, a little foolish and very sad. What could have been a new chapter in my life has left me feeling more alone than before. Back to Plan A I suppose. On Saturday I am going to the London Women's Clinic to attend an Inseminar (very witty) and learn about sperm donors. If I want a happy life, I would like a baby in it, whether thats alone or not.
Is it possible to remember someone taller, better looking and completely different? Can beer goggles last that long? Had my fantasy taken over and I was remebering him how I wanted, rather than what was real? Maybe it was because I was firstly looking out for a man with a puppy and there were none on the station platform. He had asked me to join him AND his PUPPY. Then a man started walking towards me with a big grin and a fully grown dog. The man was Mac. Shorter, plumper, ruddier and balding. As I hugged him, he said "you probably didn't recognise me" and laughed. I looked down at his dog and Mac said "this is Ned". I said "Ned is not a puppy, he's awfully cute but not a puppy".
Mac looked guilty "I thought if I sent you a puppy photo it might persuade you to come up". Oh. I smiled. "thats very naughty... so what else did you fib about??" He looked at his feet. "the cottage hasn't got 2 bedrooms and its tiny".
Now, I'm not being all Jane Austen but when Mac had invited me up to the Lakes, he had asked me to come as a friend, that there was no pressure for anything else to happen and that the cottage was beautiful, isolated and had 2 bedrooms. I believed him, why wouldn't I? Although I had already thought I would jump in his bed anyway, I thought maybe the first night I could play a little hard to get and have a great nights sleep and wake up all fresh faced and beautiful. When we got to the "cottage" my mouth fell open. It was a little room tagged on to the end of a big house (probably a converted stable or something). It was one room essentially with a kitchenette and a shower room. There was nowhere to sit apart from two tiny kitchen chairs or on the bed. I looked at Mac "so where are you sleeping?" He laughed. "Mac, you said it was an isolated 2 bedroom cottage, not a 1 bedroom extension about half a mile from Keswick on the main road." Mac rolled his eyes. "Ok so its a bit small but anyway, we don't need two bedrooms do we?" I was cross. It wasn't about the dog or the room really, it was being lied to, being made to look like a mug, being put in a situation that I wasn't prepared for. The view WAS rather nice though.
Whilst I was there, there were some genuinely hilarious moments, however. Having come to terms with the situation and acknowledging that I probably would have slept with Mac anyway, we went to bed early. I was aware the dog was watching and asked Mac to put him outside. "But its raining and poor Neddy will get all wet, won't you Ned, and we can't have that, no we can't. Because then you'll smell all wet doggy won't you and that won't be very nice will it? Does Auntie Jules mind you staying here if you are nice and quiet and lie down, there's a good boy... down Ned". Right, lets get things straight... do not start having a conversation with your dog whilst in the middle of foreplay, nor talk to it like a human, nor be cutesy with it and NEVER call me Auntie Jules to a dog! Just put the dog out-bloody-side!!!! When I realised Ned's feeling were more important than mine, another black mark went against Mac. Ned stayed. Sex continued for a few minutes until we heard Ned whining. "Oh for fucks sake Mac, put the bloody dog outside, I cannot do this with him inches away, whining!!" Mac rolled off me and sighed loudly. He then got up and wrapped a towel around his waist and went outside. He came back a few minutes later with a huge dog cage and put it against the wall. "Ned, in your cage. Daddy wants some sex!" Oh. My. God. Daddy?? Please NO!!
The whole thing had slightly put me off but Ned stayed in the cage, looking pissed off, whilst Mac grunted out the sound of the whining. It wasn't the reunion I had dreamt of!!
A few minutes later Ned was happily let out of his cage and paced the room with terrible dog breath. Poor Ned, I thought. He was a three year old red blooded male, not spayed and was forced to watch two humans copulate, how utterly revolting and frustrating for him. I wasn't sure who I had more sympathy for, him or myself. Mac was lying next to me with a huge smirk "still got it heh?" he grinned. "well to be honest, the atmosphere was slightly ruined by your whining, smelly dog. I couldn't tell who was panting, him or you!" He chuckled. "Well, I promise, back in London, I won't bring him to our next date, OK?" So, the conversation was already happening. What would happen after the weekend?
I had presumed, naively, that his two years of his (unanswered) emails to me meant that he was available, single even. I had not continued the relationship back in 2007 because I'd found out he was still living with his wife! I felt let down, humiliated and used back then, and wanted no part of a relationship where I was the other woman, the mistress, the tramp. I morally didn't like the idea and hated the thought of his wife and kids finding out and being hurt. I told Mac exactly how it made me feel and ended it. But here I was, lying next to Mac and out of his mouth was coming what I dreaded. He was still living at home with his wife and kids and was pretty happy, generally. He loved her still but was sleeping in a separate bedroom and hadn't had sex since he last saw me. I felt sick. I would never have gone up to Lakes if I had thought his marriage and living situation hadn't moved on and changed. "But what did you expect me to think?" I asked, "you knew how I felt two years ago... I told you I would never get involved with a married man, no matter what his living situation, I wouldn't be that person, and yet here you are, having lied to me about the dog, the cottage and now you tell me that you're still living at home etc. What did you think would happen Mac? Why am I here?" He looked sad. "I just thought we could pick up from where we left off and then be friends back in London, you know, the occasional dinner, maybe a night in a hotel, a weekend away, you know?" "A mistress you mean?" I said. "Well, if you want to put it like that.. then yes".
The thing is, I know a lot of women might read this and think, well what's the problem? He is virtually separated from his wife, they have separate bedrooms, they don't sleep together, just have some fun. I used to think that too... until all I could think about was how devastated his wife and kids would be if they found out. Maybe I'm too empathetic and should be more selfish but I just couldn't do it!! I looked at Mac. "You know that's never going to happen don't you? I haven't changed how I feel. I want babies and a family and a country cottage and your plan doesn't come anywhere near that. I won't be your bit on the side Mac. Never."
We didn't speak about it again until my last day.
Yes, I stayed up there. I thought I might enjoy a few days with him and see it as a last goodbye, if you will. We talked about everything but us. He asked me about having children, about my plan to maybe use a sperm donor. It actually caused a bit of a row. Two years ago when he first suggested me being his mistress, he suggested he buy or rent a little cottage and I could have his child and he would look after me and it would all be blissful. Now as he asked me about children, he said "God, I could never have more children, wouldn't want any, I'm way too old!" I reminded him of what he'd said two years ago and he looked genuinely surprised. "So, if I had decided that this time it would work out between us, how would you have dealt with me wanting a child??" He looked blank and said "Well, it doesn't matter because we're just going to be friends anyway. But I can still help out you know". "What do you mean" I said, "with the baby?" "God no, I mean I could drive you around if you need to do the shopping and stuff!" Oh thanks Mac.
We went on long walks and didn't speak, comfortable in each others silences. The Lakes are simply beautiful and being in a different part to where my family's house is (southern lakes) was amazing. The walks were staggering. Walking around Buttermere and Bassenthwaite took my mind off everything.
We went for pub lunches and evening meals in out of the way taverns. It was quite lovely but every few hours, reality would hit and we'd either become angry or sad with each other. He, more sad for me not wanting him under any circumstances. Me, more angry for having such high expectations that things would be different. Sad at my life staying the same. Sad that he lied, angry that he thought so little of me morally.
And when I get angry, everything starts pissing me off. I started noticing little foibles about him that I'd never noticed before. Apart from the initial shock of him having put on so much weight and generally looking very frumpy, middle ages and saggy, I noticed that he blows his nose constantly. A really loud, quick, sharp blow on a blue spotted hankie, almost every 5 minutes. Hankie, crusty and wet at the end of the day, placed on the bedside table and once, put on the kitchen table over breakfast until my look of fury made him put it back in his pocket. He chews with his mouth open and speaks with his mouth full so that little sprays of food shoot over the table and onto me or my plate during meals. He has admittedly reached middle age and in doing so, has started wearing his boxers and jeans above his waist line!! Why why why why do men do this after a certain age?? In fact all the things that were irritating me were things my father also does now he's getting older. Oh no!!!!
The worst thing, the most annoying, irritating, clenched fist inducing habit he has though is not knowing the width of his car. Mac would brake as soon as a car approached from the other direction and he would shout "all right on my side" when there was about a metre gap. He would slam on his brakes and wonder why so many other drivers were shaking their heads at him or shouting "get over, you wanker!" Not only does this constant braking and swerving make you feel a little car sick, it makes the journey so long!! The lovely narrow country lanes were a nightmare. The general rule on single lane roads are that whoever can stop most conveniently, stops in a space wide enough for two cars and lets the approaching car continue past. Mac did not understand this. On one steep hill, he slammed on his breaks as a car came towards us. The man found a wider bit of road and flashed Mac to continue uphill and pass him but Mac thought he was in a wider space (even though he was right in the middle of the road, scared he might scratch his paintwork if he got too far to the hedge) and flashed the man back. This continued several times with each flash of the mans lights getting more frantic. I shouted "Mac, just go, his place is wider, he can't pass you here!" which he ignored. Finally the man gave up and had to mount the grassy verge as he passed Macs car shouting as he passed "you fucking tosser, where'd you learn to drive?". I smirked out of the window, making sure Mac didn't see me. He was absolutely furious and screamed back "what.. you fuck! Come back here and say that!!" For the next half an hour he screamed every expletive known to man. I probably didn't help things when I said "Maybe honey, it would help if you just sped up a bit and didn't keep slamming on the brakes!" Oops. I then had the tirade for about ten minutes.
On our last day, there were tears (mine) and shouting (mine) and pleading (his). I'm still not sure how we exactly left it. He wants to be friends. I can't be friends. Never have been able to the "friends" thing with exes of any kind. Once I've been intimate with someone and had such strong feelings, I can't seem to go a step backwards. Maybe that's something i can change, I don't know.
What I do feel is incredibly disappointed, a little foolish and very sad. What could have been a new chapter in my life has left me feeling more alone than before. Back to Plan A I suppose. On Saturday I am going to the London Women's Clinic to attend an Inseminar (very witty) and learn about sperm donors. If I want a happy life, I would like a baby in it, whether thats alone or not.
Saturday, 1 August 2009
A Day of change
Not to sound too dramatic but today could change my life.
I am about to board a train to go up to the Lake District to meet a man I have known for twelve years but not spoken to for two years, and stay with him in a deserted cottage with his dog for a couple of days to see what happens.
I suppose you need a bit of history for this all to make sense, so lets start with the man. His name is Mac and he is married. Oops, did I just type that?? Yes, you can see already why this is all a bit complicated but bear with me and please don't judge me until you've finished reading, that's all I ask. He has been married over thirty years and he is 50 years old. He married young and had kids young. The kids grew up and he and his wife grew apart... I know, bear with me, its an all too familiar story but true nonetheless. They still all live together in the same big, Victorian, detached house in North London. They get on well, in pretty good harmony BUT all in separate bedrooms. He hasn't slept with his wife in over ten years. He still loves her as a friend but does not want to hurt his family in any way and doesn't want to leave the children until they have left home. Judging by how long offspring stay at home these days, he could have a long wait!!
MacG said the first time he saw me, ten years ago, it was love at first sight. I was with my boyfriend and a bunch of friends, watching the rugby on a very busy Saturday, in a very busy Islington pub. I went to get a round of drinks and as I stood at the bar, MacG said hello. He had a northern accent and I said something about how he was a long way from home. That was it, short and sweet. During the afternoon, he looked over occasionally and I looked back. Nothing more. After the rugby had finished we all decided to go for dinner somewhere and began gathering up our things... coats, scarves, scattered newspapers and magazines. I then noticed, on the top of the Times newspaper, someone had written something. Its was a messy scrawl and I squinted to read it. "I would love to see you again. Call me." and then a number. I looked up and surveyed the pub but I already knew it was MacG that had written it. He was heading out of the door and just smiled. My friend Gary, unbeknown to me had watched this whole thing and playfully grabbed the newspaper off me and read it. "what a bloody perv... , that bloke just tried to pull Jules!!" He threw the paper at the boyfriend and we all laughed.
That was the first time. I saw him on and off for about 4 years after that, always at the same pub, always just the occasional small talk at the bar, secret messages written on scraps of paper or looks across the pub when Alex had gone to the loo. Gary always commented on the bastard across the bar and kept saying he would sort him out if he tried anything. It became a sort of inside joke, my own personal pub stalker. Boyfriend didn't seem to mind at all which says a lot actually.
We broke up soon after. A devastating break up which was so hard for me I went into a fairly long depression and took myself off to India for 3 months just so I didn't have to breathe the same air as him. It was a dreadful time but when I came back from India I started to hang out with friends again and start to have a good time. Inevitably, I went back to the Islington pub one night with Gary. Amazingly, Gary, the boyfriends best friend for years had been my biggest shoulder to cry on. He had stuck by me and helped me through my darkest days. I think everyone knew what a shit boufriend had been but it must have been hard for Gary to admit his best friend was a total wanker!! So Gary and I were having a drink and MacG walked in.. Gary whispered "Oi, your stalkers here" and laughed. I waited until Gary went to the loo and went up to the bar. I can't remember what I said but I made several trips to the bar that night and had longer and longer conversations and giggled and flirted with him. It felt good. I left him my number.
I think our first date was in the autumn of 2001. We went to watch a football match! That's so funny reading that now because I hate football and would have turned anyone else down if they had suggested it as a first date but MacG had a company box and champagne and said it would all be very civilised. I was swayed. As we waited in the main bar of the members room, a TV camera approached us and asked us for a comment on the outcome of the game. Me, being a bit of a drama queen, swooshed my hair and had a smile for the camera. I wasn't sure who was playing let alone give an appropriate comment but I then noticed MacG had walked away very quickly. I apologised to the camerman and followed him to the end of the bar. "That was live you know" he said. I looked baffled and he said "My kids will be watching so its hardly appropriate for Daddy to be seen on television with a strange girl." My mouth fell to the floor.. "kids?" "Yes" "and are the kids watching with Mummy?" I asked quietly. "Yes" he said. I looked at him for a long time and then turned and left, got a taxi home and turned my phone off. I didn't speak to him again for another 6 months.
He phoned often, leaving messages about how he needed to explain the situation, that it wasn't cut and dry and to please give him a chance. I did. I met him and he explained that he was separated from his wife but his kids were still so young he didn't want to leave the home. He hadn't told me because he knew it would come across badly and I would never have agreed on a date. I explained there was no chance of the relationship ever going further because fidelity was a big thing for me and even if he had separated from his wife he was still married and he would be being unfaithful. I had had one too many boyfriends be unfaithful and I knew what it was like being on the receiving end of it. If his wife ever found out, she would be so devastated and I just couldn't be responsible for that. So MacG and I agreed that we would have a purely platonic relationship, dinners, drinks, conversation an that was all.
For the next 5 years that is exactly what we did. MacG took me out for dinner at all the smartest London restaurants, we talked, we laughed, we flirted, we sometimes held hands. We didn't suggest anything else would happen. We both took it for what it was, a lovely lovely evening... once every couple of months. It began to get more difficult to not want to kiss this man. Every time we went out he was the most charming, chivalrous and wonderful companion, and I wanted more. One evening we were having dinner at the Sanderson, in one of the most romantic hotel gardens and I turned and looked at him and leant forward and kissed him. He looked truly startled. I think he actually thought this would never happen. Of course, we had drunkenly suggested getting a room at the end of one of our evenings and laughed it off but now it had happened. The first kiss had suddenly changed our relationship. All the frustrations and flirtations were in that one simple kiss and I knew that would be different from now on. We didn't really speak for the rest of the meal. We held hands underneath the table and didn't eat much. We both didn't want to say anything in case we messed it all up, it really was one of those moments. We left that night, quietly.
A few months went by and we didn't contact each other. I think we were both utterly terrified that the border had been crossed and there was only one way we both wanted it to go but the situation was still the same with him at home and I didn't want to be the mistress! So we were again at stalemate.
In July 2007 I received an email from MacG. "Please come to Norfolk with me for the weekend." I replied "ok". We didn't discuss reasons or outcomes, we both just knew it was about time. The years of pent up passion between us, bubbling under the surface at every meeting was just too much for us now and we would implode if something wasn't done about it. I told myself I wouldn't think about his wife, his children, I would just take each moment for what it was. We stayed in a beautiful old coach Inn near Holkham. The room he had booked was stunning, the entire top floor of the house with huge victorian bath and egyptian cotton bedding. Champagne arrived. I was so nervous I could hardly breathe and we both kept looking away and laughing. When something has been leading up to this moment for TEN years, your expectations are momentous. I couldn't help thinking.. but what if he's a terrible lover! Safe to say he wasn't and it was better than I could have imagined. Thank God and everyone else up there! The weekend was fabulous, long walks on the beach, sleepy naps in the afternoons, huge dinners and early nights. I began to think of what might happen next, what would happen when we returned to London.
We drove back to London in silence. Both of us thinking what happens now?? The reality of being back in town meant all the doubts and insecurities came to the surface again. As we said goodbye, I said "can we have dinner in a few days?" He looked at me frowning and said "Oh, God. Didn't I tell you.. I'm off on holiday with the kids for 2 weeks in the South of France." My face fell. "Jules, I'm so sorry I just forgot. But you can get me on my blackberry, obviously don't ring cos the kids might hear but you could text me before you go to bed or something". Reality. Slammed back in my face. Hard.
I went home and cried. I was already the other woman and I felt disgusting. I found out a few days later that his wife was also on the holiday with them. MacG had phoned me quite late one night to say he was thinking of me and that he missed me and when I asked him where he was, he said he was sharing the room with his son whilst the daughter was in with Mummy. Ouch. He realised what he'd said. Mummy was also on the family holiday. I hung up.
And here we are.. two years later. MacG emailed me constantly after Norfolk. Almost one a week. I never opened them and I never read them. They went to my junk mail I got over it and I stopped thinking about him. I made a new plan for me. One month ago I made the decision to have a baby on my own. I am now 41, maybe looking younger than 41, but my knight hasn't shown up and I really can't wait any longer for him. I am very positive about it all and incredibly excited. I have lost 2 stone since January because I know I have a better chance of conceiving not being overweight. I am very healthy and active.
I know what I want. So why did I open the email from MacG last week?? What made me, after 2 years of forgetting him, make me see his name in my email trash bin and open it? Maybe because I finally know what I want so I can't be swayed by him?? Wrong. I opened the email and he had written a very chatty short email about what he'd been up to and how much he missed me etc etc. I thought it a bit odd until I started going through old binned emails from the last 6 weeks. They were all very chatty and sweet, as if he was just having a catch up with me. I hadn't replied to one of them in TWO years yet he kept sending them.
I replied "hello there". He said he almost fell off his chair and gave a whoop of excitement in his office that I had replied after all this time. He told me he was going to the Lake District with his puppy and that I should come. I replied "ok".
I am about to board a train to go up to the Lake District to meet a man I have known for twelve years but not spoken to for two years, and stay with him in a deserted cottage with his dog for a couple of days to see what happens.
I suppose you need a bit of history for this all to make sense, so lets start with the man. His name is Mac and he is married. Oops, did I just type that?? Yes, you can see already why this is all a bit complicated but bear with me and please don't judge me until you've finished reading, that's all I ask. He has been married over thirty years and he is 50 years old. He married young and had kids young. The kids grew up and he and his wife grew apart... I know, bear with me, its an all too familiar story but true nonetheless. They still all live together in the same big, Victorian, detached house in North London. They get on well, in pretty good harmony BUT all in separate bedrooms. He hasn't slept with his wife in over ten years. He still loves her as a friend but does not want to hurt his family in any way and doesn't want to leave the children until they have left home. Judging by how long offspring stay at home these days, he could have a long wait!!
MacG said the first time he saw me, ten years ago, it was love at first sight. I was with my boyfriend and a bunch of friends, watching the rugby on a very busy Saturday, in a very busy Islington pub. I went to get a round of drinks and as I stood at the bar, MacG said hello. He had a northern accent and I said something about how he was a long way from home. That was it, short and sweet. During the afternoon, he looked over occasionally and I looked back. Nothing more. After the rugby had finished we all decided to go for dinner somewhere and began gathering up our things... coats, scarves, scattered newspapers and magazines. I then noticed, on the top of the Times newspaper, someone had written something. Its was a messy scrawl and I squinted to read it. "I would love to see you again. Call me." and then a number. I looked up and surveyed the pub but I already knew it was MacG that had written it. He was heading out of the door and just smiled. My friend Gary, unbeknown to me had watched this whole thing and playfully grabbed the newspaper off me and read it. "what a bloody perv... , that bloke just tried to pull Jules!!" He threw the paper at the boyfriend and we all laughed.
That was the first time. I saw him on and off for about 4 years after that, always at the same pub, always just the occasional small talk at the bar, secret messages written on scraps of paper or looks across the pub when Alex had gone to the loo. Gary always commented on the bastard across the bar and kept saying he would sort him out if he tried anything. It became a sort of inside joke, my own personal pub stalker. Boyfriend didn't seem to mind at all which says a lot actually.
We broke up soon after. A devastating break up which was so hard for me I went into a fairly long depression and took myself off to India for 3 months just so I didn't have to breathe the same air as him. It was a dreadful time but when I came back from India I started to hang out with friends again and start to have a good time. Inevitably, I went back to the Islington pub one night with Gary. Amazingly, Gary, the boyfriends best friend for years had been my biggest shoulder to cry on. He had stuck by me and helped me through my darkest days. I think everyone knew what a shit boufriend had been but it must have been hard for Gary to admit his best friend was a total wanker!! So Gary and I were having a drink and MacG walked in.. Gary whispered "Oi, your stalkers here" and laughed. I waited until Gary went to the loo and went up to the bar. I can't remember what I said but I made several trips to the bar that night and had longer and longer conversations and giggled and flirted with him. It felt good. I left him my number.
I think our first date was in the autumn of 2001. We went to watch a football match! That's so funny reading that now because I hate football and would have turned anyone else down if they had suggested it as a first date but MacG had a company box and champagne and said it would all be very civilised. I was swayed. As we waited in the main bar of the members room, a TV camera approached us and asked us for a comment on the outcome of the game. Me, being a bit of a drama queen, swooshed my hair and had a smile for the camera. I wasn't sure who was playing let alone give an appropriate comment but I then noticed MacG had walked away very quickly. I apologised to the camerman and followed him to the end of the bar. "That was live you know" he said. I looked baffled and he said "My kids will be watching so its hardly appropriate for Daddy to be seen on television with a strange girl." My mouth fell to the floor.. "kids?" "Yes" "and are the kids watching with Mummy?" I asked quietly. "Yes" he said. I looked at him for a long time and then turned and left, got a taxi home and turned my phone off. I didn't speak to him again for another 6 months.
He phoned often, leaving messages about how he needed to explain the situation, that it wasn't cut and dry and to please give him a chance. I did. I met him and he explained that he was separated from his wife but his kids were still so young he didn't want to leave the home. He hadn't told me because he knew it would come across badly and I would never have agreed on a date. I explained there was no chance of the relationship ever going further because fidelity was a big thing for me and even if he had separated from his wife he was still married and he would be being unfaithful. I had had one too many boyfriends be unfaithful and I knew what it was like being on the receiving end of it. If his wife ever found out, she would be so devastated and I just couldn't be responsible for that. So MacG and I agreed that we would have a purely platonic relationship, dinners, drinks, conversation an that was all.
For the next 5 years that is exactly what we did. MacG took me out for dinner at all the smartest London restaurants, we talked, we laughed, we flirted, we sometimes held hands. We didn't suggest anything else would happen. We both took it for what it was, a lovely lovely evening... once every couple of months. It began to get more difficult to not want to kiss this man. Every time we went out he was the most charming, chivalrous and wonderful companion, and I wanted more. One evening we were having dinner at the Sanderson, in one of the most romantic hotel gardens and I turned and looked at him and leant forward and kissed him. He looked truly startled. I think he actually thought this would never happen. Of course, we had drunkenly suggested getting a room at the end of one of our evenings and laughed it off but now it had happened. The first kiss had suddenly changed our relationship. All the frustrations and flirtations were in that one simple kiss and I knew that would be different from now on. We didn't really speak for the rest of the meal. We held hands underneath the table and didn't eat much. We both didn't want to say anything in case we messed it all up, it really was one of those moments. We left that night, quietly.
A few months went by and we didn't contact each other. I think we were both utterly terrified that the border had been crossed and there was only one way we both wanted it to go but the situation was still the same with him at home and I didn't want to be the mistress! So we were again at stalemate.
In July 2007 I received an email from MacG. "Please come to Norfolk with me for the weekend." I replied "ok". We didn't discuss reasons or outcomes, we both just knew it was about time. The years of pent up passion between us, bubbling under the surface at every meeting was just too much for us now and we would implode if something wasn't done about it. I told myself I wouldn't think about his wife, his children, I would just take each moment for what it was. We stayed in a beautiful old coach Inn near Holkham. The room he had booked was stunning, the entire top floor of the house with huge victorian bath and egyptian cotton bedding. Champagne arrived. I was so nervous I could hardly breathe and we both kept looking away and laughing. When something has been leading up to this moment for TEN years, your expectations are momentous. I couldn't help thinking.. but what if he's a terrible lover! Safe to say he wasn't and it was better than I could have imagined. Thank God and everyone else up there! The weekend was fabulous, long walks on the beach, sleepy naps in the afternoons, huge dinners and early nights. I began to think of what might happen next, what would happen when we returned to London.
We drove back to London in silence. Both of us thinking what happens now?? The reality of being back in town meant all the doubts and insecurities came to the surface again. As we said goodbye, I said "can we have dinner in a few days?" He looked at me frowning and said "Oh, God. Didn't I tell you.. I'm off on holiday with the kids for 2 weeks in the South of France." My face fell. "Jules, I'm so sorry I just forgot. But you can get me on my blackberry, obviously don't ring cos the kids might hear but you could text me before you go to bed or something". Reality. Slammed back in my face. Hard.
I went home and cried. I was already the other woman and I felt disgusting. I found out a few days later that his wife was also on the holiday with them. MacG had phoned me quite late one night to say he was thinking of me and that he missed me and when I asked him where he was, he said he was sharing the room with his son whilst the daughter was in with Mummy. Ouch. He realised what he'd said. Mummy was also on the family holiday. I hung up.
And here we are.. two years later. MacG emailed me constantly after Norfolk. Almost one a week. I never opened them and I never read them. They went to my junk mail I got over it and I stopped thinking about him. I made a new plan for me. One month ago I made the decision to have a baby on my own. I am now 41, maybe looking younger than 41, but my knight hasn't shown up and I really can't wait any longer for him. I am very positive about it all and incredibly excited. I have lost 2 stone since January because I know I have a better chance of conceiving not being overweight. I am very healthy and active.
I know what I want. So why did I open the email from MacG last week?? What made me, after 2 years of forgetting him, make me see his name in my email trash bin and open it? Maybe because I finally know what I want so I can't be swayed by him?? Wrong. I opened the email and he had written a very chatty short email about what he'd been up to and how much he missed me etc etc. I thought it a bit odd until I started going through old binned emails from the last 6 weeks. They were all very chatty and sweet, as if he was just having a catch up with me. I hadn't replied to one of them in TWO years yet he kept sending them.
I replied "hello there". He said he almost fell off his chair and gave a whoop of excitement in his office that I had replied after all this time. He told me he was going to the Lake District with his puppy and that I should come. I replied "ok".
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