Writing this blog has made me reminisce about some of my past experiences. Believe me when I say that I can see the funny side now, but it wasn’t always that easy at the time. Age has given me a wonderful sense of my own value and strength. I don’t need to be someone’s girlfriend anymore. I don’t need to be the other half.
My dad apparently always said that he wouldn’t have to worry about me as I would be married off in no time. I never struggled to get a boyfriend and always seemed to date a succession of good-looking men. I never really thought about marriage and drifted into being a career girl instead. I would change jobs and change men without too much thought and certainly no forward planning. It seemed different when Tom and I got together and I felt content. I didn’t really want to go out pubbing or to discos (they weren’t called clubs in those days). We moved in together and I happily climbed the career ladder whilst he didn’t. I was subsequently made redundant whilst on maternity leave but that’s another story.
My mothering instincts kicked in and I watched from the sidelines as he did his own thing. It never really occurred to me that we rarely did anything together. It took several years to realise that I wasn’t content anymore. Walking on eggshells is not a nice thing to do. He certainly wasn’t happy either but we were both too scared to rock the boat. There was always a reason to wait. Always another excuse. It was I that finally spoke up and ended it, having found tell-tale evidence of another woman in our house. The first year apart was dreadful. He decided to make up for lost time and date anything with a pulse. I was left with no confidence, debts and a young child.
So, I slowly became me again. It took a long time and a lot of determination but I did it. I am back to being me. So, having a younger part-time lover is perfect and Tom is now my friend again, though, oddly, he thoroughly disapproves of my lover. He thinks I’m being used but, like I’ve said before, who’s using who? It’s mutual and the friendship and rapport are far more important than the sex. I don’t think Tom realises quite how self-contained and self-sufficient I’ve become since we split up ten years ago. I don’t think he sees the real me as I’m completely different to the woman he once knew. Or maybe he doesn’t want another man to take advantage of my generosity and niceness in case it all gets used up?