Judgements, opinions and assumptions

Yes, in this world, this day and age, we’re all about free speech, right?! Well, what about opinions, or advice, being offered without being requested first? Being offered advice about my life, or some of my situations in it, without my specifically asking for it, and it being freely given really riles me and makes my blood boil. I often have opinions myself but would never say it aloud unless asked for it beforehand. Otherwise, you’re being rude and stepping out of bounds. It’s as bad as having no filter at all between your mouth and your brain. People are also quick to judge and assume the life stories of others. I try not to do that. I don’t judge the book by the cover unless, or until, I hear the full story. I would say go ahead and judge me if it takes the attention off someone else more worse off than me, if that’s what it takes to make you feel superior. But other times, I hear someone’s unwanted opinion and I just see red. I’ve got my own assumptions and judgements about you but do you hear me voicing them? No, you do not, for fear of hurting your innocent feelings even though you walk around every day with a stick up your backside. I’m not paranoid. People can say what they like about me, laugh at me behind my back. But you, oh, the paranoia! I’m glad I’m not you.

In the midst of the #BeKind campaign online and panic/bulk buying in the eye of the COVID-19 storm, I’d say we can all continue to help ourselves and each other by asking: “Are you all right? Do you need anything?” while keeping those unwanted, and mostly mean and unnecessary, opinions to yourselves. I’m not telling, I’m asking. I’ve had too many elderly gentlemen, supposedly, widowed or divorced (so they say), offering advice on singledom (they’re on the lookout for love – AGAIN [cue eye roll]), asking why I don’t have children (“do you not want any?” No, I don’t!) or my career or lack thereof. I’m sorry, but if I want an opinion, I’ll ask for one. All right?! I’m sick to the back teeth of it. Leave me alone already! So, it’s pretty much like I’m being told that I should be married, or settled down, with kids (more than one), a career of some sort, the house, multiple cars and mortgage (“mort” is French for death) by now. No, thank you. Block, delete, ignore. Sayonara!

Sex with strangers… [Explicit content] (Named & shamed)

Getting over a break-up is hard, isn’t it? I don’t miss the smothering and suffocating of emotional love with my ex-partner quite as much as I miss the physical aspect of it. It’s been about 3 months since we split up. I have needs, so what’s a girl to do?!

I signed up to a few dating sites. Sadly, most men trawling those sites are only after ONE thing: sex. But that’s what I’m looking for. Nothing meaningful or romantic, but a physical connection at least. Well, I arranged to meet up with a guy who was in my area for work and although the messages between us were fairly friendly, I had my doubts. Doing a thing like this is not guaranteed to end well. It’s nice to build a rapport but I wasn’t expecting this piece of work….

Boy, did I get royally screwed?! Let myself enjoy a bit of naked physical exercise then he sends me on my merry way. What I feared came through. Being dumped, effectively, after one short naked altercation because I wasn’t to his taste, or what he was looking for. I shouldn’t have opened myself up to it. I didn’t, not emotionally at least, it was only a physical dalliance. He didn’t get EXACTLY what he wanted (oral and anal, was quite forceful about that) so he was a dickhead about it, one I won’t be meeting again. Such an asshole! I wasn’t expecting declarations of love or flowers and chocolates, but some respect would be nice. He had mentioned in messages, previous to our meeting, wanting hours to explore my body. He got what he wanted in less than 30 minutes then was done with me. Well, fuck him! I hope his bits get gangrene and fall off or that another woman in his future cuts it off and feeds it to him. It’s all he deserves, nothing more.

Will this put me off future meetings? No. It probably should but I won’t let one dickhead ruin my day, week, month or year. He’s certainly not worth crying over or wasting time thinking about. I’ve met some serious dickheads before but this guy takes the cake.

I do feel humiliated, but I half-expected this to happen. I’ve only got myself to blame. I’ll never see him again, so I’m happy about that. Lesson learned but moving onwards and upwards.

He tried to take away my dignity and showed me no respect. I walked out of there with pride. I didn’t look back. I may be mad at how he mis-treated me but I’ve shed no tears over him, and I won’t, because soon he’ll just be a distant memory. Once a scumbag, always a scumbag, I say. I hope he rots. He wasn’t a gentleman; he was an animal. Animals like him deserve to be put down. End of.

Him: “Do you want to get dressed and I’ll drop you home?”

(My response)

Him: “It isn’t really working for me”

(My response)

I walked out and didn’t look back. I left and got a bus home. Nobody treats me like dirt and gets away with it!

It was consensual, I must add. Well, it started off that way. But I felt violated and degraded afterwards and I’d hate for any other woman to feel that way too.

So, if you ever decide to venture on to Irish Swingers (yes, it is as the name implies), avoid THIS guy because he’s an animal – NOT in a good way either! I’m calling you out, naming and shaming you. petemac001 is his username, living and working in Donegal with 3 kids.

What’s in a name?

So, I have a major bugbear and it’s with my own generation’s use of a particular so-called “nickname” given to their children. It’s “prince”, or “princess”, whichever applies depending on the child’s sex, obviously.

I cannot abide it. It annoys the HELL out of me. I was NEVER called princess by my father, nor did I ever want to be. He, my father, calls me anything else but my name as it is but it was never that. If you really want to make your child feel so self-important and self-entitled, then this is the way to do it – and I strongly advise against it. My mum, sometimes my dad and one or two of my aunts, often called me “chicken” or a few other takes on my real name, but NEVER princess. It’s bad enough that my brothers teased me, calling me “perfect”, which I certainly was not, I never claimed to be any such thing. Not that anybody is perfect, but they just seemed to latch on to this particular idea for some unknown reason.

A certain friend of mine calls his daughter that and she seems to take it to mean that she doesn’t need to lift a finger for herself, that everything will be done for her, all bar dress, wash and feed herself; the lazy, useless sack of flesh that she is. She’d send someone else to school for her, and to do her homework too, if she could get away with it. I know she would. She thinks she can manipulate people but she’s not smart enough to do that. She thinks she is but she’s only fooling herself. She’s as naive and gullible as there is going and has no idea what the real world is like. She has absolutely no filter between her mouth and her brain and she has an opinion on EVERYTHING when she knows nothing about nothing. But herein lies my example. She’s the self-entitled “princess” who wants everything handed to her on a plate – for nothing. Sadly, for her, I’d take things away from her, not give them to her, as she’d find out, if I was still in her father’s life. Little Miss Self Important would get a VERY rude awakening from me, that’s for sure.

But, regardless, I know other friends who call their kids this, prince as well as princess, and unless they’re actually of royal blood, it stands for nothing and it boils my blood. Way to make your child/children feel SO self-important that they never want/need/have to lift a finger again. And you wonder why you’re run ragged and so tired all the time, running around after your precious offspring, making them believe that they don’t have to go to school/college/university, study/train up to do whatever it is they want to do, that somebody else will do all the heavy lifting for them, now and in the future. Way to go! Keep on doing that so and see where it gets you. It’s like falling in to the lion’s den and practically feeding yourself to the lions. It’s detrimental to you and to them and their future – if they have one, after being molly-coddled so much since infancy.

I don’t have children. I don’t want to have any children. But IF I were to have a child, or children, they most certainly would NOT be called prince or princess, unless actually royally entitled to be so. Singing their praises, their achievements, to all and sundry is all well and good, but if there was a guide book to raising children, I’d put this as rule number one. You’re only setting yourself up for a fall. Your child, or children, won’t want to do anything. Just wait and see. They’ll expect praise, treats and pocket money for nothing. A bit like someone I already know. And none of it would be deserved! So think twice before resorting to such flawed favourtism. It’s not encouragement, it’s not practical or ideal and it certainly has no basis in child rearing in this day and age. When I was growing up, we got a whack on the bum, or the ear, were deprived of television, meeting friends, birthday parties etc., whatever applied at the time. We didn’t have our technological devices and WiFi (Broadband) like we do now. We were deprived of whatever we had at the time as punishment. Taking away devices achieves nothing because they’ll find other ways to get online (without you knowing, they’ll think, unless you’re actually monitoring their usage). So use your head before branding your children with such ridiculous “nicknames”. It’s not a pleasantry, or a kindness, and it will only work against YOU, the parent. Your child is your child, not your friend. You treat friends, siblings and offspring differently, or you should. And if you’re not, you’re only shooting yourselves in the foot.

Cool beanz

As a kid, I was always a fussy eater. And I mean fussy! Now I see it in my nephew. He is just hilarious and he really reminds me of myself at his age (he’s almost 7!). If the package is different or the food doesn’t look right, it’s immediately “Yucky”.

I once told my sister-in-law that not everybody likes coconut, hence the idea for this actual blog. There are certain foods I refuse to eat even now and coconut is one of them. So are cranberries, cream and kiwis. I absolutely would not eat them if they were the last foods on earth.

I’m not quite as fussy as I was then. I’ll eat chilli and peppers now, whereas I would not have touched them with a barge pole before. I like the heat, the spiciness. Just a touch, not much – enough to give my food a bit of a punch, some flavour. I will even add a few drops of Tabasco sauce to my beans or spaghetti (tinned) for a bit of extra heat and flavour. But each to their own. Not everybody would do that, I know. I never would have foreseen such a development in myself, food-wise.

On days when I don’t feel well, if my tummy is a bit queasy, I go right off food. I just don’t want it. I’ll drink water, tea or iced tea but I won’t eat much of anything at all. I can’t, otherwise I’d be sick.

I don’t mind cooking food, but I wouldn’t be able to prepare, say a full Sunday roast, from scratch. I don’t mind doing a few elements, once they’re all in the oven or grill together. It makes it easier that way.

I rarely, if ever, re-heat food. I find the idea disgusting because it degrades to quality of the food as well as the taste. Besides, re-heated food is nowhere near as nice as if it was cooked fresh and put on the plate in front of me to eat there and then. I find that vitally important. And it has to be cooked thoroughly as well, no half measures or rare steak for me, no thanks. Unless it’s cremated to within an inch of its life, I won’t eat it.

The LONGEST week

So, as a newly single person, time slows down apparently…

It hasn’t even been one whole week yet and it feels like three months have elapsed. What the Hell is wrong with time? It flies by when you’re all in love, going places, doing things together etc. You break up and all of a sudden, time ticks so slowly it feels as though no time has passed at all. I woke early this morning and stayed awake, staring at the curtain and the wall for about 20 minutes and it felt like an hour.

I was the initial betrayer, I’ll be honest about that. I won’t say what I did and I won’t say what he did in return but I told him that we were evens, quits. What I did was bad, wrong – but so did he. I’m still in the crying/mourning stage because we spent over 2 years together as a couple. It’s time that was invested in each other, spending time together, spending money on each other, buying a car between us etc. It’s time and money you don’t actually get back. What to do with all this excess spare time now? I usually write letters to penfriends but can’t seem to get my head straight enough to do that. Yet, I can write here. I don’t know why. I’m thinking about writing to a few new penpals, without advertising the fact or I’d be inundated with requests, but then think, they’ll still be there in 6 weeks or 3 months time, I’ll write then, when I’m in a happier state of mind. One can only hope, right?! I actually really don’t know what to do with myself, to occupy my mind. I just can’t get over how time seems to have stood still, whereas it was racing before and I could hardly keep up with it. Now it’s dragging its heels. I could barely get out of bed until past 11am for most of last week. This morning I was out of bed by about 7:30am. I had made plans for the day, previously, but my body had other ideas. I’ve been trying to get rid of a bad cough then my stomach decides to act up. Nice! So I’m staying at home instead, just to be sure.

Continue reading “The LONGEST week”

A New Beginning

Hello all,

This is my first article, despite opening this page a little over 3 years ago. I never really got started. That’s because I had a boyfriend, with whom I spent most of my weekends with, so therefore I had very little time to myself, even when I got home to my parent’s house afterwards. We were constantly texting each other, or that’s how it seemed to me, and at times, especially in the last 12 months or so, I began to feel smothered and kept asking for alone time when I was back home. To give each other time to miss the other, or so I had hoped. He missed me almost as soon as I left, or even before that. I never seemed to have that time to miss him. Or that’s how it felt, to me at least.

Now, though, we are no longer together and I’m single again. Things have gotten very quiet and that’s kind of unnerving, despite being what I asked for. The future seems unclear, foggy, but it was always like that when I was with the ex because he never seemed to have any money to spend on himself, or to save, because he always owed other people money or was spending it on me or his useless daughter. That was very frustrating and annoying for me because I’m used to saving, as it’s a habit I got in to when I was younger; a good piece of advice from both my parents when I was growing up and something I’ve always stuck to. I may not have a job, but I have savings – for any major emergency. It’s not for spends. I have willpower. It’s locked up in a vault, as far as I’m concerned and I can’t get to it unless an emergency situation is triggered. Nothing like that has happened so far and I hope it won’t for some time to come. I usually try to be an optimist more so than a pessimist, or even a realist at best, so I do look to the future. I’m just not sure if there’s any hope there at the moment.

So, as it stands, it’s just me sitting alone in my bedroom on my computer tapping away. Some things never change, it seems.

What to do when the future is unclear? Has anybody got any ideas? I’d love to hear them. I’m at a loss here and I don’t like leaving things hanging in thin air. I need reassurances, to a certain degree, I suppose. I’m sitting here trying to do 3 or 4 things all at once, even though my mind is too busy for me to think straight.

I like to keep things light, fresh and interesting. I prefer not to dawdle or have hang-ups about my past but sometimes my mind won’t let me move on. I’m not an over-thinker, but I can be sometimes and that often leads to tears, which make me feel weak and feeble. I don’t like feeling like that.

It’s onwards and upwards from now on, I guess…