Love, life & sex

I was in love with my one of my best friends for oh about 13 years. He wasn’t supposed to be someone I loved so much or even be my friend at all. So it was highly inconvenient on all scores. He was the person I wanted to talk to when I was sad, when something was worrying me, when I felt scared. He for years was the one I want to call when something wonderful happened. It sucked. And I honestly don’t know why I felt the way I did about him, he didn’t deserve me. I know that sounds like a total dickhead thing to say. But hear me out. By the time I’m through with this episode of “ I have terrible taste in men” you may just agree with me.

2007

I met Huskyboy in the spring. I was about one year out of the worst relationship with someone who was really emotionally abusive. I had moved to get away from that guy, bought a house on the other side of town. I was for the first time in years free and happy and living in my own in my dream home. I loved my little house on a quiet street in the university district of the city. I was surrounded by creative, cultured, kind neighbors. My best friend in the whole world lived so close I could walk down the street in my pj’s with my coffee mug in my hand to go see her. It was perfect. Owning home by yourself as a woman is an incredibly empowering thing and I knew how lucky I was. But it wasn’t easy. Navigating dealing with handymen who were trying to bullshit you into doing more work than a job warranted, being hit on by your window cleaner, not knowing what the fuck to do when the power goes out in a storm and your car is stuck in the garage and you have no idea how to get the bastard thing out to get to work in the morning. I remember one Saturday night I was trying to unfold a 8ft steel ladder by myself to paint my hallway to the bedroom. It was so heavy and so cumbersome and I hurt myself multiple times trying to get the fucking thing set up and in place. “I can’t do this” I thought feeling my lip starting to quiver “I’m tired, this is too hard. Why can’t I have someone to help me? Just once in a while. Just when things get too hard to handle on my own?” A nice man, a boyfriend, who I could call to help me move ladders when I’m struggling. That’s all I wanted. I sat on the steps to my attic bedroom, giant arse ladder half unfolded, sweating, exhausted, covered in bruises and I bawled my eyes out. I was a tough self sufficient very independent girl. But I didn’t want to be alone. I was lonely. I was nearly 32 and I knew that I wanted to settle down, find someone nice, have a couple of kids. After all I am from the women can have it all generation. I could have my career, working long hours doing something I loved, traveling, having fun and I could have the house, the husband, the kids. I could have it all., I deserved it. Every magazine and website telling me that I was a feminist who could compete with men in “their” world but still pop out cute babies and be a wife. It’s all bullshit by the way. An impossible standard to set for anyone male or female. NO ONE could or should have to live up to that. No one should work 60 hours a week with a new born baby at home, pumping and crying in the loo at work then walk into a meeting and slay a presentation for a room full of people, tits still aching and swollen. It’s fucking absurd. If that’s what you want, I mean go for it. Live the dream have it all, but come find me in a few years and tell me how you feel then. I’ll hold your hand, while you cry over missing your kids first steps because you were on a plane to Hong Kong or sitting at yet another boojie dinner with a bunch of execs that you can’t stand because you need to stay relevant and “on thier radar” as you claw your way up the corporate ladder. Maybe you will come see me 5 years and we will have coffee and you will look fucking great, with a fab blowout, a pristine heather grey cashmere sweater perfectly proportioned to show off your great tits and flat stomach, some super cool distressed jeans that look like you’ve had em for decades but you just got them that weekend from Nili Lotan on the upper west side. You will be just glowing, showing me your kids, your hot hubby and your network of Nannie’s that manage your life and feed your babies while you take get another important call. Who knows. Maybe you will nail it. Good for you. Go get it hun if that’s what you want. But I’m here to tell you, my next generation of girlies, my beautiful younger female friends, my daughter…You don’t HAVE to have or do it all. There is no failing at life. Work your arse off, be a mega sucessful boss bitch who doesnt want a family. Stay home, not work and raise your babies. Or quit your job at 40 and go back to school you get your degree because you finally know what you want to do with your life. It’s ok to NOT KNOW what to do with your life at all ever. It’s all ok, because it’s YOUR life, your choice. Do what feels good to you. I will be here cheering you on, telling you I’m proud of you and that you are loved. No matter what. Anyway, back to my story. Sorry for the meander into more serious waters but sometimes you just have to get into the heavy stuff too. It won’t be all dicks and blow jobs around here. Not all the time anyway. So I was tired of being single and wanted to meet someone new, sometime who wasn’t a total and utter prick. Someone who wouldn’t lie, cheat, steal. Not too much to ask for eh? Just don’t be a lying cheating asshole who routinely “borrowed” money from me that I never got back. Gaslit me, alienated me from all my friends and generally made me feel worthless. I had signed up for Match.com – haha how early 2000’s eh?! Fucking hell. I’d gone on a bunch of dates, some boring, some ok, some pretty promising but nothing had really stuck. I came across Huskyboys profile. He was cool looking defo my kind of guy., Bald, a little chubby, bearded and covered in tattoos. He was the lead singer in a band, spoke 4 languages. Had a cheeky gap tooth smile. All the things that make my knees weak and my panties wet. I sent him a message on match ( this was absolutely eons ago so I’m really digging in the recess of my mind here for the details of it all) we chatted a bit, texted for a while. I remember one day in particular pretty vividly as one of my best mates from the UK was visiting and we got wasted on mimosas while sunbathing one Sunday afternoon in my back garden. Him and I had our first phone conversation while I was lying there on the plastic lounger slowly getting sunburnt. He had an exceptionally sexy voice. It’s not super deep but has a little gravel to it, unique just like him I remember thinking even then during that first awkward phone conversation. It was one of the things about him that turned me on so much still years later. I wanted to meet him, we had been talking for a couple of weeks, I can be impatient and honestly what’s the point in fucking around?. So I asked him if we could get together. Looking back on it even then during that first fucking month he was non committal and flaky about us meeting in person. I lived a good 2 1/2 hours away. This wasnt ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but he interested me and I thought he was hot. So I was motivated. We were sexting, getting kinda steamy over the phone. This was back in the pink Motorola razor flip phone days. So texting was a real pain in the ass. “I’m so wet for you” Took fucking forever to type out. I’m going to assume anyone who’s reading this is around my age but for anyone born after about 1980 picture this…Those flip phones had a numeric keypad so you literally had to type out by hitting the number keypad over and over again I – was 44 m-6 s-777 o-66 w-9 e-33 t-8…Christ it was exhausting. This went on for a few more weeks and finally he agreed to meet up with me. We decided that I would drive up to see him one Saturday afternoon. YEAH I KNOW I KNOW – why the fuck was I driving my ass 2 1/2 hours to HIM?!!! Basically I could end this sad story now and it would still sum up our entire relationship pretty fucking succinctly. I was then and essentially still am a total insecure dumbass who has no idea how great she really is. I wish I could just go back and bitch slap myself for being so stupid but let’s be real it wasn’t the first time I’d put myself in a position of weakness for a man and it certainly wouldn’t the last. So one Saturday in the summer of 2007 I knock on the door of the guy who would get lodged in my heart like a splinter for the next 17years I’m not going to bother going into great detail about the rest of that night, clearly it wasn’t a happy ever after.After all I married someone else.

2008

6 months later it’s Valentine’s Day of 2008 I’m standing in line at Starbucks getting coffee before I headed home to cook a romantic dinner later that night for my lovely boyfriend and future husband “Happy Valentines Day” read the text that popped up on my phone as I stood in line. It was fucking Huskyboy showing up out of nowhere. Fucking seriously. As if. No. I gave a short, probably witty response letting him know he was wasting his time hitting me up because I had long moved on and was madly in love. I’m sure he was crushed. Inconsolable most likely. I honestly have no idea how or why. But we stayed in touch after that day. Just as friends. Nothing else nothing else funny business, just mates. It was great, I always really enjoyed having platonic male friends. They are a brilliant counter balance to women, they’re usually very honest, kind, loyal and extremely funny. I grew to genuinely love him as a person and a friend. Shortly there after he met his future wife. I was so very happy for him, I knew he really wanted to settle down. They were a cute couple. She was petite and curvy, with as many tattoos as he did. She was quite a bit younger than him, sweet although seemed a bit emotional and flaky. But seemed like a nice girl. I only met her a handful of times but I genuinely liked her from what I did experience first hand. We can call her Jennie. So both of us coupled up now our friendship cemented, Husky and I enjoyed a lovely patch of being there for one another, giving advise, calling each other out on any bullshit, taking the piss out of one another and generally just being great mates. I completely adored him.

2009

In my life things were moving fast too. My now husband proposed in his usual pisstake style over Easter dinner by giving me a letter dumping me saying he didn’t want me to be his girlfriend anymore. As I sat there dumbfounded but also kinda expecting this to be a wind up of some kind because he lives to prank me, he pulled out a ring from under the table and said “ I don’t want you to be my girlfriend anymore, I want you to be my wife” My response is still quoted at Easter dinner every year all these years later ‘Yes I’ll marry you. Can I finish my roast potatoes?” I think I was in shock or something. Plus I making fucking excellent roasters so it was a totally legit answer in my opinion. I move fast once I make a decision, I don’t fuck around when I know what I want. So within months my house was sold, I’d moved in with him, our wedding date was set for the October that year and we were actively trying for a baby. I got knocked up basically the minute we started trying. I can still remember the feeling of seeing those double lines on the pee stick. My entire body went numb, the room spun and I felt like I was going to pass out. Ohhh fuckkkkkk this is really happening!! I was so so happy don’t think that I wasn’t, it’s just that I was also absolutely shit scared. Within 18 months of my first kiss outside the Bar on on campus where we had met, not only was I going to be married I was going to be about 2months pregnant walking down the aisle. It was all a blur, telling our families, work. I felt sick as a dog. I had a European trip right before the wedding so was busy up to the last minute. Luckily I stopped feeling sick sometime around Paris on that trip so at least I hopefully wouldn’t want to barf as I walked down the aisle I thought. The wedding was small but beautiful. I wore pink. My dress was amazing, I mean, I made it myself so of course it was amazing. Soft baby pink dutchess silk satin, it had a high boat neck, Pink pearls and rhinestones hand sewn along the neckline, a fitted bodice with a large bow on the sash belt and elbow length tight sleeves to cover all my tattoos ( I didn’t want my ink to show in the photos, it would ruin the vintage vibes and date the pics) I’m still happy I made that choice because they really do look timeless. Anyway, great wedding so much fun. Ended with everyone drinking in my favorite bar next door to the wedding venue. Not sober old me though, I had a tiny little passenger on board after all. Our future child nicknamed “Pickle” who was right there with me when I said “I do” when I kissed my now husband for the first time. When I cried as the guitarist played our favorite song while I walked down the aisle. Me, him and little pickle. Now a trio and fledgling family. We jumped a flight and went to England for our honeymoon combined with a kind of second reception for all my extended family who couldn’t make it to America for the wedding. It was brilliant, a happy fun two weeks.

Upon our return it was soon time for me to see the doctor for my first ultrasound. I couldn’t wait. To see that tiny weird looking little tadpole, to hear their little heart beating. To put a visual to the somewhat abstract concept of the life growing inside of me and make it real. We go up for the appointment and are taken back into the little room with the ultrasound machine. When you are just in the early stages of pregnancy it’s not like you see in the movies, it’s not a glop of clear gel on your burgeoning round stomach and the big flat handheld device gliding over you and finding the tiny pit pat of a heartbeat. It is in fact a giant cold plastic wand that they ram up your Minnie, I guess because the fetus is so small and they can’t hear it from the outside yet. It’s a shocker let me tell you…I wasnt expecting that at all. But being a woman means pretty routinely having things shoved in your fanny so you just get on with it don’t you? I also was not expecting to hear the words that came out of my doctors mouth next, words that changed my whole life “I’m so sorry to tell you this but there is no heartbeat. The fetus is not viable.” In that moment my world turned upside down. It felt like I was falling, my vision going grey and spotty, I turned ice cold.

I will never forget that feeling. That day altered me, changed me on a cellular level, I still feel the sorrow coursing through me as I write this and there are scars I carry on my heart even now so many years later. I now understand why that morning in Paris I woke up blissful nausea free. My baby’s heart had stopped beating.The following days were a blur, I was in shock, I was in mourning. I cried for hours on end. I got completely and utterly shitfaced almost daily sobbing into my sleeve while my poor husband looked on terrified and trying not to show his own heartbreak. The first person I told that we had lost the baby was Huskyboy. He was the one I wanted to comfort me. He listened to my cry down the phone for hours. Him and Jennie sending flowers and cards and checking on me. He was along with a few other close friends my lifevest during a time where I thought the grief was going to submerged me in its dark waters and hold me under forever. Slowly like after any terrible event though you do start to heal somewhat, get over it, get on with life again because you have to really. Opting out isn’t an option for most of us is it? My way of getting over it was to get pregnant again as soon as humanly possible, about 10weeks after losing pickle in fact. I saw no other way out of the pain I was in. Like everything else in my life I just saw the goal I had in mind and went hell for leather at top speed to get what I wanted. Obsessively focused on achieving what I had set out to do. So now, little Chicken nugget was my new hitchhiker, And she grew and she grew and she kicked and made her way into this world. Not my first baby, but my first born. My girl. My beautiful wonderful daughter. This phase of life was amazing and exhausting and very challenging. I had post natal depression – although at the time I didn’t know it. One night when she was maybe a month or two old I remember I convinced myself I was a terrible mother and that both her and my husband would be better off without me. It took everything I had to fight the urge to pack my bags, run away and leave. I think now in hindsite. The trauma of the miscarriage, the fear I felt the entire time I was pregnant with her that I would lose her too. It was just too much for me. My other half and I were in love with each other and our baby daughter, but if I’m honest I think cracks were starting to show in our relationship even then. We were breaking under the pressure of raising a baby. Both of our lives doing a complete 180 in just a matter of 2 1/2years. But we kept going. A lot of it was great and full of joy but it was incredibly hard.

2010

Around this time Huskyboy and Jennie got engaged. I was so fucking happy for him. He loved her so much. I couldn’t wait to see what thier very alternative rock and roll wedding would inevitably look like. I made them a super special engagement gift, Pictures of them framed in little lights in a shadow box with their initials in 3D made of wood and covered in thousands and thousands of AB rhinestones. (For those who are not in my line of work, AB rhinestones are the ones that are clear but flare like rainbows as they hit the light, they are the sparkliest most dancing and fanciful of all the rhinestones in my mind) It took me hours gluing those tiny fuckers on one by one. But I wanted my friend to have something unique and made with all my love. This is how I show my affection to everyone in my life, I don’t always have the capacity to say to your face how I feel about you, I can’t stand the vulnerability of it but I can show you with my gifts. Made by hand with all my love baked, sewn and crafted into them. So if you have ever received anything like that from me, just know that you a special and that you mean more to me than I will ever say. Time passed, husky and I stayed in touch always, checking in and being there for each other. We talked about all the same dumb stuff friends talk about.

2011

Husky and his girl came down the summer that my babygirl turned one. There was a rock concert that was happening close to where we lived at the time.. playing shit like seether and Godsmack. Not my taste but they lived for it. Jennie and her best friend friend stayed with us but strangely he was there separately with his guy friends. I didn’t ask, didn’t question why they were not there together I figured it wasn’t my business. On the second day of the concert, her and her mate arrived back at mine half way through the day. She seemed upset and I heard her on the phone to Husky arguing. He appeared shortly after to collect her and her friend and they were cutting their weekend short and heading home. I still don’t really know what happened between them, I didnt ask. It was a Sunday in the summer and I was milling about the house trying to stay out of the way as they talked in hushed tones in my kitchen, I had no make up on, an old tshirt and tiny denim short shorts, my 11month old baby on my hip. I was still running then so my legs were tight and long and I lived in shorts that barely covered my ass. Husky is talking to his wife, gathering her things readying to leave. But I can feel him watching me. His eyes following me as I paced around my tiny living room keeping my little girl entertained, I dismissed that feeling immediately. Brushing it off and forgetting it. But now all these years later I can look at that weekend and know that that was when things started to change between Huskyboy and I.

2012

On my daughter’s second birthday it crossed over into something new entirely something we couldnt come back from. His union on the rocks less than a year in.

Mine strained with fights and failed marriage counseling weighing on me. He was confiding in me, telling me how bad things were for them. How Jennie wouldn’t sleep with him, hadn’t for months and months. They were doing loads of coke, morning till night. Her needing it just to get up and go to work. They were fighting constantly. Her depression and anxiety crippling her and driving a wedge between them. He was in despair that things were falling apart and everything he did to help her wasn’t working. We commiserated with one another, sharing war stories about our partners and their perceived failing in our eyes. Feeling sorry for ourselves and each other. “ I’ve been thinking about you” he said over text one day. “ I’m always thinking about you. I shouldn’t have let you go” You are right you fucking dumbass you shouldn’t have let me go, I wanted to say. But you did. You did let me go. I don’t know how soon after that conversation we fully crossed the line in adultery but it wasn’t long. Ironically during that time I was trying to get pregnant again, I never wanted to have an only child. I wanted my sweet wonderful daughter to have a sibling to grow up with. But it wasn’t going well. Not at all. I lost another baby. I was plunged back into those black waters of grief. And this time no one could pull me back out. I was drowning. The d&c to remove the fetus botched by an inexperienced junior doctor left me screaming in pain and unable to walk for days. I was completely lost. Traumatized and broken. It petrified my husband to see me like that. He felt that we should just be happy with our one beautiful child and stop trying for more. My health and my mental state were not worth this pain for him. Unfortunately I was once again lost in the throes of unimaginable suffering, once again fixated to the point of madness on having another child. I dragged him kicking and screaming behind me as I relentlessly persued what I wanted. Taking my temperature every day, fucking on the clock when I was at prime ovulation, living on kale and blueberries so I was in peak physical health, shoving acupuncture needles into my skull and feet weekly to help make sure my body would accept and retain a new life. I did any and everything I thought would help me carry another child. I honestly can’t imagine what that was like for Martin, I frankly couldn’t see past my own pain to even notice he was there. Husky was there for me as always caring about me checking on me though he showed his selfishness and immaturity along the way too. 2 weeks after my miscarriage he was back in my text box looking for wank material and pictures of my tits. I was really fucking shocked by his complete insensitivity. I mean for fucks sake i’m still bleeding. His asshole tendencies reminding me again I had a better man in my husband.

2013

I eventually did fall pregnant again and this one stuck. I was carrying a boy I would get the perfect family I wanted. A boy, a girl, the husband. My son was born. My marriage stayed shitty. Huskyboy’s collapsed and he got divorced. We had late night tipsy conversations about how we felt about each other about how maybe it should have been us together all along. Yet deep down I knew I still believed whole heartedly that you marry once and you marry for life. I didn’t want to give up on my marriage, on Martin. As much as I loved Husky I also knew that he was flaky, inconsistent, unreliable and a bit selfish. He couldnt ever be what I really need. I needed someone who could stop me floating off into space lost in my own world of self importance..

I needed my husband.