Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum


A(nother) word about grief

Grief never ends. I first really properly understood that after my Mum died suddenly, when I was 32. With three small humans and one big one depending on me.

I like the simplicity of this Instagram post.

Of course, grief is far from simple.

Mine has been bottomless since Leanne, and multiplied since Trinket. I just didn’t have a clue how grief stricken I would be. Forever.

Seeing L start the grieving process for her marriage is hard. Because she doesn’t even like, let alone love her husband. But her grief is still intense.

She’s grieving the dream.

I grieve that, my babies’ births, the wonderful history we shared, PLUS the man I love. He never protected me from harm, like I would him, he was the perpetrator of the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. When you love with every part of yourself.

He’s gone. Maybe never even existed. That is some next level grief.

It’s not neat, tidy, understandable, like a death. No one asks me about it, like they do my friend, J, whose son was tragically taken earlier this year. That is acceptable grief.

But it’s still incredibly painful, possibly more so because it has to be hidden. You’re not supposed/allowed to grieve a cheating partner. That goes against the rules.

Sharing Nora McInerney’s fabulous TedTalk again. We don’t ‘move on’ FROM grief, we move forward, WITH it.

To top it all off, the barman has gone very quiet. Had a poo day yesterday and must have gone to ground. It’s disconcerting. I get huge doubts about his feelings. He’s Just Not That Into You, Paula.

But I leave him alone. I sent a message early this morning, no reply. He obviously is licking his wounds.

I’m so bloody damaged and vulnerable since all this heartbreak. Can’t read anyone anymore. I used to be so intuitive.


New apartment day

Meh. So much tough stuff going on around me. Not my stuff, but hard.

My brand new apartment settled today, I had planned champagne. But in bed, utterly exhausted instead.

I just don’t have the energy to even talk about all that is going on properly.

Had L around last night. She showed me the emails between her husband and his latest AP. They make you feel sick. All “love you,” and, “you have my heart, it’s yours alone,” “you make me melt….”


This poor girl has been beaten down by the cheater. For years. She’s frozen with fear. Even asked me if she’s “overreacting.” WTF? Those emails were atrocious.

But she saw my lawyer today, and liked her. Hoping to get a plan together to get her out.

We had a conversation, led by her, about the how the hell do these women sleep at night, middle aged mothers, Trinket, and L’s Charlotte the Harlot.

I just said they missed the memo.

You know, the one about not fucking partnered men. The one about the sisterhood. The Trinkets, Leannes, Harlots? Those that ignore loyal wives? They are skunts.

But, they are ultimately just tools these serial cheaters use to stroke their…well, we know what they stroke.

Tired. Sleep. Big weekend ahead.

And a very unsettled BG. Not happy in his work situation, and stressing he will bring me bad karma.

Silly man.

His part in my movie is a positive role at this stage. I’m a big girl, wearing big girl pants.



Today has been really, really hard.

L, the friend whose husband has been caught red handed cheating, is feeling very vulnerable. Terrified in fact.

But is seeing my lawyer tomorrow. So proud of her. She started her new job today. There is a lot going on in her life. I’m so worried for her. She is a mess. I know that feeling. You just feel waves of utter drowning under the weight of it all. None of it seems real.

And my mortgage broker is pissed. I have an apartment settlement date tomorrow and the bank fucked up. So, I had to leave work and travel to the bank to re-sign docs. Will have to drive over to my solicitor’s this afternoon to sign more docs there. My boss is not thrilled. But I told her this might happen when I volunteered to come back fulltime. I work in a rural space, no chance of ducking out at lunchtime to get jobs done. She needs to be flexible. I’ve been in the office from 6 or 6.30am all week, so the hours worked are still high.

She’ll get over it.

Or tomorrow I’ll be unemployed…

So, here I am, back later, and have completed all that stuff now. And my alcoholic brother has just signed all his finances and control of these over to me. I need to get to a branch of his bank. Not sure how I will manage that!!!

He’s 49, and about to go into rehab again, barely solvent, despite earning a six figure salary.

How did this happen, you ask? After not speaking to him for about four or five years?

He reached out to me. Was abusive, then flipped the channel. Rage, self pity, control. All the channels at once.


Desperate. Addiction is a shit of a thing. I told him, after some consideration, that I’d do it. But the first hint of abuse, I’m out. I can’t fix his addiction, but I do care. Can ToughLove him and stop all the enabling my Dad does. He means well, but feels too much guilt to say no. He’s had his sisters – our very elderly widowed aunts, with their own families – give my brother money 😱

I feel a bit like I’m drowning. So much responsibility. I’ve cancelled some appointments to try to declutter my week. My car then started flashing warning lights at me, and I need it to tow my trailer this weekend. My mechanic was fully booked, so trying a new one on Friday. Shit.

This is when you miss the support of your love.


I was Roger’s support person, and he was mine. I have spent my entire adult life “knowing” someone had my back. Not anymore. Just me. I’m capable, but it is awful bearing the full load alone. He wouldn’t know, because he just replaces women when he’s worn the last one out. Never ever been single in his life. Left one GF in NZ. Met another girl the second day he lived in the UK. I kid you not. There have been no periods alone.

I did tell BG my boss was a bit grumpy with me. He was very soothing and expressed his confidence in me. For some reason he thinks I am super capable, lol. God knows why???!!!

Like this article states, he seems to see through my many, many flaws.

Which is super cute. No trying to rush me anywhere, or push me into boxes, overpower who I am. Rog was probably unaware of it, but he always tried to make me more compliant.

He flicked me aside, and found one he can control and feel superior to, Trinket won’t put up a fight. I was too much. This, despite his telling me he knew he’d regret it when he thought about doing this when Leanne was in Trinket’s place. He’d see me doing well and realise he’d made an enormous mistake.

Hmmm. Okay. Cool story bro.

I am heading to BG’s place on Friday night. He’s been to me the last three weekends in a row. So about time! Then we are driving to the Big Smoke Saturday. I have my son moving flats, so gonna give him a hand, pick up a dress I bought and the Santa suit I found for BG’s work’s kids’ Christmas party on Sunday.

His PA tells me I have to dress up as Mrs Claus as BG is looking like he’s playing Santa.

That, I gotta see 🤣🤣🤣

Um. No. I’ll leave that one, thanks Lyn (she of the, “you’ve broken BG with too much sex,” fame!) Jesus. Still embarrassed (flattered? Lol) about who his staff must think I am! The resident nympho! (Wellll….🤣🤣🤣.)

However, I’m no one’s missus, 🤣🤣🤣

And I’ll take him to the races later, to watch my filly run. He has his godfather’s life membership tickets and parking privileges to use, as he was a former Vice Chairman of the club, and his widow still gets his privileges, until she dies, and she isn’t much of a race-goer.

Back to the beach Saturday night, or we might stay in my brand spanking new apartment, seeing as I own it as of tomorrow! It’s furnished!

We do the Christmas party in the morning, then up the coast to his mates’ place for the night.

Take a breath, Paula…the silly season is upon us!

I arrived home after my scoot over to my city lawyer’s office, to a new property valuation. The rateable value of my home has gone up over $350k more than I paid for it just 20 months ago. More than half a million more than the last valuation.

At this stage, that just means I pay more rates! But I am pleased as it means I bought well.

Anyway, to de-stress…

Look at my doggo. In my laneway, under the plane trees I got pruned when I moved here. How happy is she? The animals keep me sane, grounded, alive…

Including Chimble, my ancient goat…

Thank God for animals and the peace of my home. I’m exhausted. And just lay on the lawn with the chickens scratching around me…phew. Worst humpday ever.


With friends like this

Helpful advice.

From those who have never walked this path.

With L going through the early stages of the shock of another affair, you get reflective.

I was out the other night, and an old friend asked me how it went, seeing Rog – he even used the words, “your old love, you two were so good together, such a shock” – again for the first time in ages at our daughter’s birthday party.

I just shrugged and said, he looked well, I guess. The friend said he saw photos and thought he looked old.

And uncomfortable.

To be honest, I thought he looked the same, much more grey in the beard, but hey, I went white overnight with the shock and the cancer. And I was busy and barely thought about or saw him much all night. The photos do depict him looking quite detached. Uncomfortable, I guess?

I dunno.

I had other shit to deal with.

And then the friend asked how it went, Roger and BG meeting.

I honestly haven’t asked BG. He just said they had a wine together, all good.

Yeah, it’s called adulting.

We can do hard things.

Thanks Glennon Doyle.

It’s been my mantra. One I have shared with sweet, scared, L.

Then the friend said, “oh well, you have to be friends, for the kids’ sake.”

You know what?


No, we don’t.

I don’t have to be friends with the man I love, who cheated, lied, made me sick, gave me STIs, knocked me unconscious when I challenged him, broke my heart.

I am civil.

We get on as such.

But that man was my everything. I did everything for him. He was my very best friend in the world. He was my future, my past, he held my heart.

And he just dumped me when he’d broken me. Traded me in for a used model. New to him. That is not a friendly thing to do.

So, I said to my friend, “no, actually, I don’t have to be friends with someone who treated me like he did. I love him. But he’s not my friend.”

He nodded and apologised, agreeing. Saying, “you’re right. Friends is totally the wrong word. We can be polite. Civil. But we shouldn’t ask people to be friends with those who abuse our trust, treat us poorly, disrespect us. We don’t ask victims of crimes to be friends with the perpetrators. Sorry, poor choice of words.”

I just laughed and said, “I know. We all want the world to be prettier than it really is. And no one understands this unless they’ve dealt we with it themselves. I appreciate your thoughtfulness here.”

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished for the opportunity to talk to the old Rog. The one I thought loved and treasured me. To tell him about how the one who hates me broke my heart, and refused to listen to me.

So frustrating as so pointless.


Love turned to hate

Rog and I often discussed how the hell deep love could possibly turn to hate? We saw couples do this. Love just gone. Puff of smoke stuff. Like they were never intimate. Never each other’s best friend and complete confidante.

I still don’t have a clue.

I always loved him.

So much.

And he absolutely loathes me now.

Or is completely indifferent.

I don’t know which is worse!

There is no way I could choose the kind of pain he inflicted on me, on my worst enemy.

Certainly would never choose to do something I knew would devastate him.

Or anyone, actually. It’s so weird.

And that is when you realise that love is not the same for everyone. Empaths, like myself, feel everything “too deeply.”



Et cetera.

It’s incredibly painful loving someone who you know just never cherished you.

And incredibly foolish.

So, you carry on. Keep going. Trying to enjoy what is left of your shattered life. Trying to rebuild and repair your broken heart. Trying not to hurt yourself more.

It’s super hot here tonight, and I dozed off briefly, dreaming of hot, sweaty lovemaking sessions with Rog. When we really sweated hard with the intensity, and the face he made as he came, and the biting of my body as he did.

Holy fuck. We used to be so damn hot!

Great dreams, huh? Kind of tortuous nightmares now.

In other news, BG seemed a bit more … intense(?) this weekend. There were several moments I caught him gazing … intensely at me.

He really has had me quite confused. Like maybe he isn’t all that interested, at times. I think it’s just the terminal singledom. He’s been alone a lot. So is resilient, and probably reticent to show his hand. I mean, he’s sweet AF. But it has been very weird, this thing we are doing. I’ve never felt more unsure of myself, and I am the Queen of Awkward.

He is a notorious “leaver behinder.” Never takes all his stuff. His friends warned me of this trait.

Last time he was here, one of the things included a black t-shirt.

I tend to fold and leave on “his” side of the bed.

When he arrived here this weekend, he said, “is that mine?”

My snark always comes out in these circumstances and I quickly replied, “oh no, that must belong to the other guy.”

Of course, he went, “oh okay. Which one?”

He wore it here.

Then promptly left it behind again 🤣

So tonight, I messaged him, saying,

It’s actually nice. I’m sleeping with it, because it smells of him.

But, why do I joke about such things? I know he takes it the way it is intended. But I realised I was triggered.

By my own bullshit!

When Rog was fucking Leanne, the kids and I used to jokingly call her his girlfriend.


Yeah, I was that confident he was telling me the truth about their “friendship” it seemed fine to be silly about how close they were.


Jesus I’m an idiot.

With First Class Honours.

Tell me about your moments of how could I have been so dumb?



The most delicious, lovely weekend was had.

But, like anything, it is tempered with truly sad – completely heartbreaking, in fact – events.

Buckle up, it’s a long one, sorry!

The barman eventually tore himself away from apparently raving to his mates about me (see previous post) 🤣🤣🤣 and arrived early afternoon. We took the dogs for a very long walk in glorious sunshine, broken up by a beer at my nearby bistro, dog water bowls aplenty.

My youngest was supposed to go to our home town for one of her best mate’s 21st, and I was booked to sober drive her.

Unfortunately, she woke on Saturday morning with raging strep throat.

She gets this regularly, as has a compromised immune system, with pernicious anaemia, but had been managing it better lately, with me putting her under the care of a friend of mine, a very caring and knowledgeable naturopath. She had bought the outfit with me last week, we’d had it altered, and she was so looking forward to it.

Instead, I drove her to the nearby city at 9.30pm, to an after hours clinic. We got out of there with her first dose of antibiotics taken and a script for more, at 12.30am, home to a sleeping barman, who had checked up on us via text a couple of times (he did offer to drive my daughter, concerned for her, naw, cute) tucked the big dog up in her bed, and was snuggled down with my little one, all cosy in my bed.

While at the clinic, my best mate, the woman who has been unbelievably amazing throughout my heartbreak and agony, messaged me to say she had just caught her husband cheating.


He did this before, several years ago.


I know that feeling, so, so well.

The second big affair was FAR, FAR, FAR more painful than even the ripping discovery of Roger’s long affair with Leanne.

It nearly killed me.

Literally, I battled for my life – daily, often – and still can’t believe he did it again, after seeing how devastated I was. After promising honesty and full transparency always. I still fight periods of suicidal ideation. Still cut, but far less often.

He lied. Because he’s a liar. It’s what he learned at his father’s knee. How to get away with murder. Just lie. Won’t hurt anyone.

So, my friend is in utter agony. Scared. Knowing she has to divorce him now.

I have passed my lawyer’s details on. She says she’s done. But I know she is scared. Worried for her children. I have tried to reassure her that they will be sad, but probably relieved for her. I told BG. Also a child of divorce/cheating father, and he reiterated what I already knew. The kids probably already know. If not specifically cheating, that their father is an arsehole.

And he is. He manages his stress by drinking and being verbally abusive. He’s punched holes in the walls of my friend’s beautifully restored villa, he intimidates the kids and her with his rage.

So, my turn to be her rock. Encourage her, allow her her grief. She stopped truly loving him after the previous affair (fuck, wish I had been able to!) But believed they had something worth cherishing, friendship, history, children, a future. She’s completely devastated, her world shattered.

You think when they reoffend that it is easier, your heart has already been broken, you must be more resilient, prepared.

You are not.

I was a million times more devastated he cheated again. After seeing how agonised and broken I was after Leanne. After he saw me fight, battle, work so hard to piece my life, my heart, back together, for us, WHAM! Did it again.

I will never understand that. Or why he thought I deserved even more pain after what he saw happened to me, after Leanne.

So, I’m here for her. She’s reeling.

Anyway, BG and I fenced my boundary all Sunday. It was hot, and he was an absolute trooper. He had to send his farmer mates a pic, showing off his skills, lol. Battening off the fence between my place and Marie’s, my wonderful neighbour. She came over and I introduced them. Later, as she was planting shrubs, she took a break and brought us iced drinks. I am so lucky with wonderful neighbours. Am planning a road Christmas party in my barn in a couple of weeks. Old school neighbourhood stuff over a BBQ.

We finished up around 3.30pm and BG relaxed in front of the motorsport on TV…I went into town to grab some supplies. My Mum’s bestie, his Canadian visitor and the sweet boy my daughter is seeing were coming for dinner. I threw together some fennel and bitter orange chicken, a Mediterranean bread salad, kumara, red onion and lemon, with a green salad from my garden, with fresh berries and clotted cream from the Farmers Market to follow.

PJ, my Mum’s best mate, is hilarious. First time meeting BG, he vetted him VERY obviously. Made him do a twirl, interrogated him with regards to his children and relationship status (no kids, no ex wives, lol) announced that I had been through a lot with a cheating arsehole (like BG didn’t already know, lol) and pronounced him quite suitable for me. BG winked at me and made a show of being relieved to have passed muster, as I laughed and squirmed with embarrassment. PJ really is a wonderful quirky, loving human. He cooked me dinner every Monday night during that awful seven months Roger was openly dating Trinket and still fucking me.

Ugh. Such a terrible time in my life, I was so desperate. He literally saved my sanity.

And he went on and on throughout dinner about how special I am, and how beloved me and my children are to him.

Sheesh, lay it on! Lordy. So embarrassing. Luckily BG took it all in his stride. Laughing and rolling his eyes at me. “Yeah, I come unencumbered. She’s a total gem.”

Sure. Don’t we all come unencumbered in our 50s! He has to deal with my kids (who are just awesome about him, BTW) and knows my heartache, lol. I’m such a treasure 🤣🤣🤣

Prior to PJ and Gerard arriving, I got a text from my alcoholic brother. A plea to my other brother, Dad or me to get him into rehab.

I don’t communicate with him as he gets nasty.


It was bad for my mental health.

I’ve tried over the decades, loaned him money, tried to listen and help, but he always has a go at me. BG saw the texts, and said it is exactly like what his meth addicted stepson does to his ex, the young man’s mother. Hero to zero in seconds flat. Addiction is a terrible affliction. Truly terrible.

All the dysfunction in the world. So sad. I would never ignore him when he genuinely wants help. But you have to have boundaries. Like this – especially the part about toxic family members – shared on Facebook today by a wonderful friend, and colleague, he’s a feed rep, paraplegic, totally lovely guy…

I hope my brother gets the help he seeks. Dad is going up today to try to get him sorted with doctor and investigating how to get him free rehab. I just don’t have the $10k he requires to give him for private rehab right now. I’ve done it before, and the well is just not endless. I have however told him one step at a time, and I’m here, but can’t be abused. I will support via remote, as long as he keeps working the steps. I won’t enable him, like Dad does. He’s 50 soon. Very capable and smart.

But arrogant and in the grips of terrible addiction.

What a weekend of highs and lows.

Welcome to my crazy life, BG. 😱😱😱

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This charming man

Man, I’m a sucker, lol!

BG is leaving the town he lived in for 16 years to come over. Said he’d be around lunchtime.

I was in the supermarket just now, and he called to apologise he’s running a bit late. It’s only 10.30am, and it’s about a two plus hour drive. So not late and I’m chill.

His reason?

“I’m just getting held up with a few people like Millsy (who I have stayed with) and the likes, saying my goodbyes, because I’m telling them how lovely you are…”

I roared laughing and said, “well played, sir!”

Bloody charmer…

Red flags waving madly…

Punctured bicycle
On a hillside desolate
Will nature make a man of me yet?
When in this charming car
This charming man
Why pamper life’s complexity
When the leather runs smooth
On the passenger’s seat?
I would go out tonight
But I haven’t got a stitch to wear
This man said “it’s gruesome
That someone so handsome should care”
Ah ! A jumped-up pantry boy
Who never knew his place
He said “return the ring”
He knows so much about these things
He knows so much about these things
I would go out tonight
But I haven’t got a stitch to wear
This man said “it’s gruesome
That someone so handsome should care”
La, la-la, la-la, la-la, this charming man
Oh, la-la, la-la, la-la, this charming man
Ah ! A jumped-up pantry boy
Who never knew his place
He said “return the ring”
He knows so much about these things
He knows so much about these things
He knows so much about these things


Friday drinks. And home

An old friend – as in, known her forever, but much younger than me – often checks in with me.

Michaela’s going through a rough divorce, with two young kids. But is standing strong.

Her ex is a serial cheat, who she eventually realised she no longer loved. So she left. He’s got a bit nasty. Surprise, surprise. She wasn’t supposed to leave!

She’s gorgeous, and a bit ditzy!

Anyway, she messaged me around 3.30pm, asking if I wanted to catch up for a drink. For some reason she thought I didn’t work Fridays.

I said I would catch up after work, and mentioned a lovely local bar and restaurant. She said she was bringing a friend.

I knew the friend, Sharon, she used to be my kids’ primary school secretary.

So it had been possibly fifteen years since I last saw her. She’d lost her husband very suddenly about five years ago. Very sad.

She had worked as a receptionist at our home town’s medical centre up until the end of last year, for thirteen years.

We were all chatting and catching up when Michaela mentioned something she was feeling disappointed for her kids about. It was about her ex’s new GF not doing something Michaela thought she should have, for her son. A small gesture. (BTW, the new GF is a total winner. 32 years old, five kids, none of whom she has custody of…)

I just said, acceptance. Keep the kids safe, be the sane parent, and give them stability and confidence. If the baby machine lets them down, they will know. Kids are not stupid. Even my adult ones know.

Sharon, the widow looked at me. “You sound like you know some things, how’s Roger?”

Um, what?

I said, “ah, I saw him recently. Looks fine. Old. So everyone who saw the pictures, or came to the party said. I thought he looked the same, a bit greyer bearded. But healthy enough.”

She looked at me absolutely aghast. “What??? Shit! I thought I never missed much, working in the medical centre, are you two no longer married? You were the coolest couple at school! No way, what happened?”

“Um, yeah. I thought we were too, Sharon. He was internet dating for about two years. I never knew. He met a widow, talked to her for three weeks, and sold us up, and moved to (Trinket’s region) to be with her.

Oh, that was after he had an eighteen month long affair with Mrs M’s daughter [Mrs M taught our kids at said primary school, yes, Leanne’s mother was our children’s teacher…]”

Sharon looked at me, jaw agape. “Oh Paula! No! Honestly, I had no idea. You two were just the cutest. WTAF???”

And hugged me hard.

I just thanked her and hugged her back, changing the subject, offering my condolences about her husband, and asking after her kids (three, and three young grandchildren.) She’s finding her feet again, started dating, and she shared some funny stories about dating disasters, and travel stories.

Every time I meet someone from our past, they reiterate how mind fucked I was. We “appeared” to be that couple. Who had nailed this love thing. Totally in tune with each other. I keep thinking I was stupid to be so fooled. But others were, too!

Fucking smoke and mirrors of the covert narcissist. So damn clever and convincing.

And BG did his cute thing, “text me when you’re home safe…”

Was quite interesting. BG hasn’t said much about meeting Rog. He was kinda surprised I was fine with it. After his ex banned him from meeting her ex husband. All he said was, “he offered me some of his red wine, which was really good. All normal and fine.” And rolled his eyes at me, winking. He knows Rog puts on a good show. He knows he cheated on me multiple times, lied and abused me. He sees him as like his cheating father. A convincing con. He was concerned for me that he was coming to my place. I told him I had been to his last place. We get on “fine.”

BG has some innate understanding, unspoken, about my feelings about spaces of home. As the child of a narcissistic (his description, not mine) cheating father, he’s quite in tune with this stuff. Just quietly. No song and dance required. He seems to know I need to be safe. The first night we spent together (oh, he the then 53 year old of the SIX orgasms in one night, lol) was not in my bed. We stayed in the barn loft. With a bottle of red. I think he knows I am protective of my home. He never got invited to my home in that brief period when we had the two dates in August and September 2018, before I ghosted him for seven months! He invited me straight to his place. I was far more reticent.

Home, as a concept, must be protected for me.

I love that he seems to get that. And we have never ever spoken of it.

He’ll be here shortly. Has had enough of the beach town he previously lived in, where he’s been staying this week. I better get up, get to the Farmers Market and do some housework. I barely slept last night, lists running through my head. I worked a 55 hour week, even with most of Tuesday off. Got the lawns done after Friday night drinks, though. Yay! The house was neglected this week.

Up and at ’em gurl!


When They Cheat in Your Home

Will write further about this Chump Lady post, as I’m rushing off to work.

I begged Roger to consider selling the farm and the holiday home he desecrated with Leanne.

Then Trinket.

I had a legal cease and desist letter drawn up. Stop bringing women – and named Trinket in this document, and ensured she knew about the letter – into my homes!

That worked well, he fucked her in both homes anyway. Cunts.

I can’t stand those spaces.

He refused to sell and move.

Until he had his ducks lined up with my replacement, who he sold up in an instant for, and ran to.

Fucking other women – in some cases, “friends” of ours – in our home, really mind fucked me. Messed with my mental health. Messed with my libido, which BTW is just fine, it was all just terror about the STIs he gave me, and that he’d fuck me over again!

Which, he did. Ugh.


Them leaving feels

I’ve been really good about the geographical distance between the barman and myself.

It means we just get on with life. I work, take care of my place, my animals, my investments, etc.

But recently, I’ve started having a mini crash on the first day after I come home, or he leaves my place.


I don’t want to feel this.

Roger and I pined for each other when apart.

Or, I did, Roger just pined for someone. It was never about me.

I had an unexpected day off on Tuesday. My daughter’s actual birthday. A power outage at work, so no phones, no internet. I left at 10.30, and took her to lunch and we went shopping. Bought her an outfit to wear to one of her childhood’s sweetest mate’s 21st this weekend, theme: white…

BG said he had some jobs to do, but would come over. It meant about 5 hours of driving, going, here, there and everywhere. So he asked me a wee favour. Would I be able to pick up a vacuum packer he had ordered from the city near me, and meet him at his work? His kitchen staff needed it desperately. I said, “yeah, I can do that.”

Then he back pedalled, “no, I can’t ask you to do that, I’ll come, stay at yours, and drive it home early the next day.”

I just said, “calm your farm. I’m happy to do it, and I can. I’d say no if I couldn’t or didn’t want to.”

Anyway. I commuted to work the next day from his place again.

And yesterday was manic. A day off always means I am playing catch up.

And I had my second mini crash, missing him, doubting he feels anything for me. It’s silly stuff. I know it’s just the longest-time-until-we-see-each-other-again stuff.

He’s not overly … forthcoming about how he feels. Hurt. Cautious. Terminally single.

But last night, just hours after we’d last seen each other, and I’d had a friend over for dinner, then shared with him that the bumblebees I’d bought had arrived…so cool, by the way (my garden pollinators, and a wee practice before my honeybees arrive)

He sent a message saying he missed me.


So, it’s not just me. Even when my head tells me constantly that I’m unlovable, then bitchslaps me, saying, stupid girl, you’re lovely, stop being mean to my friend, Paula, he does like you too.


Why did I let this happen? I am good single! Our girl, Benne, says it best…

(feat. Gus Dapperton)

I know I fucked up, I’m just a loser
Shouldn’t be with ya, guess I’m a critter
While you’re out there drinkin’, I’m just here thinkin’
‘Bout where I should’ve been
I’ve been lonely, mm, ah, yeah

Water pouring down from the ceiling
I knew this would happen, still hard to believe it
Maybe I’m dramatic, I don’t wanna seem it
I don’t wanna panic (Ooh, ooh, ooh)

I’m a sad girl, in this big world
It’s a mad world (Ooh, ooh, ooh)
All of my friends know what’s happened, you’re a bad thing (Ah!)

I know I fucked up, I’m just a loser
Shouldn’t be with ya, guess I’m a critter
While you’re out there drinkin’, I’m just here thinkin’
‘Bout where I should’ve been
I’ve been lonely, mm, ah, yeah

La-la-la-la, la-la-la-la
Lonely (I’m a lonely bitch)
La-la-la-la, la-la-la-la
Lonely (Super lonely)

[BENEE & (Gus Dapperton):]
Now I’m in the bathtub, cryin’
Think I’m slowly sinking, bubbles in my eyes
Now, maybe I’m just dreamin’
Now I’m in the sad club, just tryna get a backrub (Lonely)

I’m a sad girl, in this big world
It’s a mad world (Ooh, ooh, ooh)
All of my friends know what’s happened, you’re a bad thing (Ah!)

I’m a sad girl, in this big world
It’s a mad world (Ooh, ooh, ooh)
[Gus Dapperton:]
All of my friends know what’s happened, you’re a bad thing

I know I fucked up, I’m just a loser (Loser)
Shouldn’t be with ya, guess I’m a critter (Critter)
While you’re out there drinkin’, I’m just here thinkin’
‘Bout where I should’ve been (Where I should’ve been)
I’ve been lonely, mm, ah, yeah

La-la-la-la, la-la-la-la (Woo!)
Lonely (I’m a lonely bitch)
La-la-la-la, la-la-la-la
Lonely (Super lonely)

[Gus Dapperton:]
I loathe romancing and its offer, I’ll be damn true, tried
I’m only dancin’ by myself so I don’t slam my hours
Compostable cups, pop a penny, I can’t stress this enough
I would hate to mess things up, but my boogie still stays restless as fuck, yeah

[ BENEE & Gus Dapperton:]
I know I fucked up, I’m just a loser
Shouldn’t be with ya, guess I’m a critter
While you’re out there drinkin’, I’m just here thinkin’
‘Bout where I should’ve been
I’ve been lonely, mm, ah, yeah

La-la-la-la, la-la-la-la (La, la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la)
Lonely (I’m a lonely bitch) (La, la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la)
La-la-la-la, la-la-la-la (La, la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la)
Lonely (Super lonely) (Lonely)

La-la-la-la, la-la-la-la (I’ve been lonely, I’ve been lonely)
(I’ve been lonely, by the way)
La-la-la-la, la-la-la-la (La, la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la)
Lonely (I’ve been lonely)

So, yeah, I snapped this in my garden at 6am this morning. To cheer me up. Spring roses blooming everywhere…