Poem: You’re just not that into me

He's just not that into meI’d resorted to using a website
For lack of natural introductions,
(a curse of a more modern age).
In my naïveté, I thought it more honest,
A chance for virtual reciprocation,
or, where a tangible love could bloom.
So, after searching for the right date site
(and this took much procrastination!)
I found one with feasible Connections,
And that’s when I found you.
I’d shilly-shallied before I ‘waved’
(I felt mechanical in my deliberations)
Heart stomping: ‘This? Antithesis of romance!’
I’d ruled out the sexagenarian,
He had Viagra, but owned no notion
Of what is to be Christian.
And the posh man with the Porsche,
(He earned 70K, and had just won a promotion)
But challenged my personal belief in creation.
You: the frankness of your emails wooed me,
(and, you were blasé about your diction)
You had me, when you texted me in the afternoon.
But then, on iMessage you confused me;
Silence. A sudden loss of basic communication.
Should I Skype you, to find you? Or Vibre, or Text?
No heart-full words on WhatsApp, and we’d not Facebooked.
Oh! Remember when we had one phone?
When there was just one answer machine?
The red light either blinked, or it didn’t.
We have a plethora of forms for expression
In twenty first C – your silence scares me,
I really like you. But, you’re just not into me.

(Inspired by the film, ‘He’s just not that into you’)

Poem: Your eyes disappointed me most.

Two years ago i found out my husband of five months had cheated on me. Happy Anniversary:

Your eyes disappointed me most.
What I mistook for deep wells of honesty,
Were actually fathomless pools of regret.
And, each declaration you bestowed on me
Was your own, furtive lament.

Now i bow to you, awesome piece of work.
And though mascara peppers the porcelain
I think: how clever you have been,
to use that same mouth for her and me
And not stumble on the intent.

Your deception was so profound,
not even the altar could alter it.
Your words still sit like bile on water,
Dirty consequences of your infidelity
Fixed in my heart like cement.

Oh yes, I bow because of you,
Not the last debasement I ever do.
Wine wretched stomach retching,
And a topsy-turvy salute,
To love that came and went.

I wrote a letter…

Dear,

I thought, at 35 years old, especially when it comes to relationships, that I’d experienced almost everything. And this is nothing to be proud of, but my thinking was…I could handle most of what life throws at me.

When I received the email via Facebook…basically telling me that you had been having an affair…that started on your Stag Do, I realised that I actually don’t know anything about love or relationships; and that you can never put your trust in anything other than God.

I’m confused that you still don’t have a reason for the lying and cheating, especially when you say that you still love me and would want us to still be together? Even more confusing is that it felt as if you were really committing you life to God, and genuinely felt God in your life.

I don’t know what’s going on in your heart – and part of me feels maybe you were being attacked…and failed. I don’t know – but what you’ve done is unforgivable. But, it’s not that I hate you…I hate what you’ve done to something that felt so good, and amazing.

I’m still with fellowship group – and glad you still see R and M – they’ve never mentioned that they see you. And I’m grateful for that. I feel lucky that I have a beautiful network of friends and family who have helped me immensely….i don’t know if I would have got through this without them

The job? Is amazing…seems strange that when I was at XXPR, it was my lifeline, and now I’m here. The people are amazing, the culture is so Christ focussed. We pray/have a devotional in the mornings and praise & worship every Friday lunch time.

The work is challenging, I’m learning so much, and immersing myself in news, entertainment and public affairs…

They have a counselling arm here, Lifeline…I’ve seen one of the ladies there. Again…XX has been my lifeline…

Anyway – we have a lot to sort out now….and no, i haven’t found anywhere to live yet.

I have to be out of the flat by 3rd March.

Will your Uncle be around to help more the heavy furniture? Worst-case scenario, I was thinking of getting storage – so can always dump stuff there.

I won’t need the sofa; probably won’t need the fridge. I really don’t know what to take tbh – and would only want what I need/can fit in wherever I’m going. I really want to ask for the TV for mum and dad really – and would give ££ towards it? Theirs is going…they don’t even get sound through there’s properly now. Wherever I go, I’m sure I’ll be ok with the little one.

Through Different Eyes

I’ve just had to take a long hard look at myself. And it’s awful.

Friends tell me that what i am doing is normal; that is going out, drinking too much wine and going on ‘dates’ is not a bad thing. But…and BUT…this evening it all came crashing down around my ears. I sobbed on the train home from Watford. I cried when i got in the flat…and i think i cried myself to sleep.

I met an old friend for dinner in Watford this evening. He’s expecting a baby, which is unplanned, but i got a sense of expectation and excitment from him.

Then, on the way home i received a call that made me stop and take a look at myself. I’d planned to meet up on ‘dates’ during the week, and on Sunday. But, my ‘dating’, revelry or whatever i want to call it is such a bad idea. It doesn’t matter how much i go out, or drink, the problem is still here when i put the glass down. In fact, it’s unfair on whoever it is i’m making ‘friends’ with, i’m a drunken mess. So, i’m dumped (again), and straight after i call the other ‘friend’ to cancel our dinner on Sunday.

When i finally got home i remembered the ‘Liar and Cheat’ had been in to pick up some things. What he’d picked up? I still don’t really know. But he’s left me a DVD he thought i’d like, and a text message to say how much he still loves me?!

I’m not ok. I’m really not.

No Decisions

It was a beautiful, Godless wedding; which surprised me as i’d always thought registry offices would be dowdy and lack luster. The Old Town Hall, on Marylebone is a beautiful building. It was a bright day, albeit cold. But most importantly, it didn’t rain!

It was a drama from the start though; having planned to be at HA’s for 1pm, traffic, roadworks and everything else you could think of between South and North London impeded me, which resulted in me pulling up at hers around 2.15pm. The wedding was at 3pm!

There was poetry from John Betjemen (A Subaltern’s Love Song – Miss Joan Hunter Dunn), W H Auden (The drinking Poem?) and one other that escapes me.

At the Amadeus Centre we were treated to a champagne reception, and then a lovely dinner. There were fab speeches, with one from D herself, and her dad. It was lovely. And although i enjoyed it all….it’s all in a bit of a haze of my own misery, which i couldn’t shake. Funny how i found it easy to smile, horrified that i’d leave a stain on her day.

Then there was dancing, and i danced. It was good meeting up again with friends i hadn’t seen in a while. And making new ones. There was someone i must have talked to for most of the night. They’d also jsut split from a long term relationship. We actually laughed at what a miserable pair we made.

He texted me last night, agreeing to a face to face meeting tomorrow, and signed off asking me to take him back.

That’s what hurts the most, that he could do this; break my heart and think that i love him enough to take him back after. It’s not that i don’t love him, it’s that i have love for myself more now.