So that is how I met Craig.
Not the most ideal start to a relationship. We didn't have a cute story that I could repeat to my future Grand kids or even my mother. She thought we'd met in the supermarket. Apparently fighting over the last chocolate fudge cake, one of my vices and since I don't mess about when it comes to food, he had given in (obviously) and I had won. In return he had won my heartfelt gratitude and a date – the lucky bugger! Or so the story goes, at least that's the PG Walt Disney version of it.
I couldn't imagine telling my mother, that when I had first met Craig David (I still snicker whenever I have to say his full name, which is why I don't say it often.) I had been fooled into thinking that he wouldn't attack me at first chance.
HE BLOODY WELL DID.
I used to be able to say that I'm glad. Happy that I didn't panic and react without due care and caution. I was a rational female. Logically considered my options before acting. Act in haste repent at leisure? Not me. I am able to successfully say that I now don't jump and scramble for the proverbial can of mace, whenever he kisses me unexpectedly. Now, well- I kind of like it. Dare I admit- even occasionally crave it.
Rightly I should be happy to live 'happily ever after' with Craig. Sometimes I even think that I began to date Craig because I had to. No one forced me. Yet I had to, seen what life option number 2 had to offer and determined that that wasn't going to be me. Nothing has gone according to plan. I was meant to meet the perfect guy and marry him. Have 2.5 children and make my mother happy. Right the wrongs of the past. Be on the correct side of the fairy tale.
I grew up on the wrong side of the fairy tale. No 'once upon a time' for me. I learnt first hand and the hard way that life more often than not is far from easy. My absentee father, also displayed the fact that I was born on the wrong side of the sheet. Lived on the wrong street, in the wrong area. Went to a diffent school and never had the right clothes!
If you stay single too long people think 'lesbian' no one will say it, being PC and everything. And if they're not thinking lesbian, than they think something is wrong with you. Too picky. Or she doesn't dress herself right. Or if she walks around with that screw face how can she expect anyone to want her, look at her she doesn't even want herself!
Relationships. They're messy, but that's life!
No one gets it all. Not 100% anyway. I had 90% and greed led me to crave the other 10%. if I'm not careful I'll end up with nothing. No one gets it all but daily we take gambles. If I had made a life plan and followed it maybe I wouldn't be in this situation. To be involved in a love triangle or as the case may be a love square would not have made the list. Who has that on their 'must do before 60' list and if its place there where would it rank?
Expectations! Reality! They don't always match up. If this was a fairy tale, maybe. But I am my own hero, and this is my own story. I don't need to be saved. Craig did that once. I can do it now, it'll be all right. After all it has to be.
Wednesday, 30 December 2009
So that is how I met Craig.
Posted by Kristina at 14:53
Thursday, 24 December 2009
I could NOT do this again.
I was not ready to take another emotional battering. No energy to climb back to sanity.
I scrambled away from him, scurrying in my haste to get away, tripping over my own legs and landing in an graceful heap on the floor. I popped up and stood behind the chair. Eyes wide, face frozen like a deer in headlights.
“NO” - his hands are raised and he's cautiously edging towards me, “I'm sorry, didn't mean that to happen.
And I pause. Who am I fooling. It's gotten really late whilst I sat there chatting to Craig I'm not foolish enough to run outside without a well thought out plan ready to be executed. Really, I had to be rational. Weight up my options. Outside awaited me a dark country lane, a car with no petrol and no mobile. I decided to be reasonable.
I hadn't realised that he was getting closer to me as the conversation drew on. When he had first led me into his house I had sat across from him. One hand gripping my handbag.
First cup of tea.....he's opposite me. We're talking. The conversation is flowing nicely I'm secretly plugging him for information in case something happens. This is what I learnt. His name is Craig David, unfortunately like the 'singer'. Hates jokes of this nature. I bite my tongue to stop me saying “can you fill me in” or pointing at his tea and crying “what's your favour? OOo, tell me what's your flavour hmmmm!”
Second cup of tea....and he was next to me. Not a problem honestly. At least not yet it hadn't been. It wasn't as if I could feel his breath on my face when he spoke or anything, I think that would have been a major clue that I need to move seats, or move on out the house.
So I had three illogical options.
One, I could run to the kitchen. It must be loaded with utensils that I could use as weapons. But did I really want to be the one calling the police from a strangers house. Waiting for them to arrive, then having to explain not only what I was doing in said strangers house but also why I had been stupid to enter said strangers house and stay till dark whilst drinking three cups of tea. I also didn't think I'd be able to explain a fatal or semi-fatal knife wound as a self defence reaction against an unwanted kiss.
Alternatively, I could take him on. Man to hmm..not so man and just tackle him down. Logically speaking, it was safer then the knife option. Though I didn't really want a record that said I had used G.B.H. On some guy because he kissed me. Pathetic right. And lastly, I re-evaluated my run plan. Virtually plotted the escape route. Doubtlessly it would be a lot more difficult to execute in the dark.
I clenched the sofa. The corduroy uncomfortable beneath my palms, whilst my body rocked on the precipice of fight or flight. Watched him. He was watching me back. His mouth moving, slowly and wordlessly. As if he was rehearsing just what to say. I calm myself down. Reach an appropriate level of normalcy. Or as close to normalcy as I could get at that given moment. I release the chair from its hostage situation and knot my hands together. My fingers still sore and tense.
“it's okay...” I said. So muffled that he continues to look at me. His blank, confused expression the only reply that I'm likely to get. I close my eyes, clear my throat, cease ringing my fingers like their wet laundry and repeat.
“It's okay!” he smiles back at me. Though it seems far from real, its so strained that it refuses to sit comfortably on his now, 'I could be a friend but have I screwed it up?' face. So I nod, whilst smoothing back hair off my face- anything to resemble a reasonable looking female. I also knew that I had to keep my hands occupied or else they would be attempting to wrap themselves(with slight force from me) around his neck.
Neither of us had moved yet. The undercurrent in the room contradicting my previous words. He's looking at me and I'm looking everywhere else.
I move first, hands still fidgeting now with the the buttons on my shirt.
I sit down.
Pick up my half empty, and now cold cup of tea and stir it.
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
Sometimes, you take a step too far.
Turn down the wrong path only to learn that its a one way street, and with the exit so far away...you follow the road in the hope that at some point you'll get direction. You don't always get to have your cake and eat it. I've had indigestion for months now. Anxiety at my own behaviour. It's easy enough to tell myself to stop. I say it most times I look in the mirror!
But stop doesn't delete memories. It doesn't erase emotions. And most importantly it can't rewind time.
We've got closer in the past year. Craig and I. Which in itself is ironic, because in the past year I couldn't have begun to move any further away from him then I already have. Sometimes, when he's being nice I want to be mean. Just so he has reason to dump me and I won't have to break his heart. Does he suspect? I don't know. Who introduces their boyfriend to the man their cheating with? Craig's great as well. “The perfect guy” my mother said, the first time I introduced her to him. Having spent years imagining that Taye and I would settle down together I know it cant be easy for her. Or Mary, Taye's Mum. It's with the best intentions. But what do they say about that? Even with the best intentions things can go awry.
I can't blame Mum. I can't blame Mary. I blame myself!
Craig and I met 5 years ago. 5 years ago when I had done something bad. So bad that I couldn't function. Had found myself driving around for no reason until I was stuck in a country lane. No petrol. No phone. Just an immense amount of silence and I was forced to relive my actions again and again in my thoughts. Until, this friendly face followed the hand of someone knocking on my car door and I had had to wipe my face....adjust my appearance and open the window.
“Need help?” he asked.
I looked at him, his hair was a light shade of brown peppered with specks of blonde. I didn't know this now, but later when we got together I called them his sunshine's. He had sprayed sunshine onto my life when I had been feeling most down. His eyes are great too, so expressive and at that moment in time said friendly. So that I was inclined to talk to him and not wind my window up or lock the car door.
“How did you guess?” I croak. I'm feeling really self concious and want to cover myself up. I'm not dressed to be in company of anyone else. My car never minds what I wear but I was incredibly worried that I looked a mess. My hair was barely brushed. Messier than my thoughts. My shirt was hastily buttoned and the wind that hit my chest when I opened the window suggested that I hadn't even buttoned it up properly.
He smiles at me and I quickly glance down. Relieved to see that I had pulled a skirt on. He introduced himself to me. I learnt that his name was Craig, and that I had been fortunate enough to run out of petrol a short 10 minute walk from his house and very lucky that he had decided to take the dog for a walk and seen me slumped at the wheel. He was single. Not looking. Which I usually took to mean 'looking but not looking at you'. I hadn't minded. In fact, felt quite relieved because it meant that I didn't have to make an effort with the conversation. It was obvious I was upset about something. Clearly it's not normal to leave the house looking like I did, plus my eyes were puffy from crying and my lips swollen from being kissed.
So I had accompanied him to the house, my hand posed on the rape alarm that I carried I my pocket. There was no one else around but I hoped if I needed to use it the volume would shock him enough to give me the opportunity to run.
We chatted about everything but the reason of why I was in my car, and looking like I did. Drank tea and laughed and I began to feel reasonably normal again.
Until I found myself receiving the second unexpected kiss of the day.......
Sunday, 20 December 2009
Kendall and I have been friends for a really long time. Planned to be friends forever. Both of us victims of fate, or at the very least victims of our single working mothers. As luck would have it we started our educational journey at the same school.
I had been excited about the first day. Been ready since birth and had listened to relatives and family friends continually state that I was '5 years old going on 50!' Kendall wasn't so enthusiastic. Her mother had literally had to wrench her free from her legs and force her into the centre of the room. She'd rushed out of the door straight after, possibly because she was late for work. And bumped into my mother who was distracted in the process of calling me back towards her because I had forgotten to take my lunch box from her.
I hadn't liked the sight of Kendall at first. Just as she looks fragile now she looked even more fragile then. At 5 I was so certain of who I was meant to be and what I needed to do to get there. Its funny, because I'm 27 now and I've never been more clueless. So I had befriended Kendall, not because she was someone I would initially choose to be my friend but because at the age of 5 I could see the bigger picture and knew that when play time came I would need someone to play tag with, because I wasn't going to be the freaky child chasing no one but herself.
As Mrs. Bates told us to take our seats I had rushed to make sure I could sit next to her. And in return she had rewarded me with one of her great smiles, something I was so used to now that I took it for granted.
So she had smiled and I had waved and said “Stacy!” before taking my seat. She muttered her name and if I hadn't been sitting so close I would have missed her say “Hi I'm Kendall!”, before she dipped her head back down into her chest and awaited my next vocal interruption.
“I'm going to marry him!” I stated. Age 8 I was still so sure of myself. Kendall and I were hiding behind a hedge watching the older kids play football. We were both 8 and had discovered the benefits of gossip. Him was Taye, my friend from another school and my mothers best friends son. Kendall and I had come along way in the past three years, I felt comfortable enough to trust her with my life plan- or the parts of it that I had mapped out already. In return she no longer muttered into her chest and had begun to whole heartedly dig in and participate in all of my schemes.
Taye, the boy who could be friends with everyone and anyone but still managed to make time for me winked across the pitch. Either my 'doo-do' plaits were peeking over the top of the hedge or he was aware of the moving giggling bushes. Taye tolerated Kendall, called her my shadow, which I guess back then she was. I was a natural born leader, and if my class mates a school didn't pick me to lead a task. Well, naturally I took charge anyway.
Saturday, 19 December 2009
I knew him first.
Not an excuse. Just trying to help you understand.
I had him first too.
You know what I mean, don't act shocked. It's not so black and white. I never got jealous of my ex-boyfriends previous girlfriends because that was before me. And when I had him, Kendall didn't, wasn't. They weren't. I kept it a secret. Not ashamed. Okay slightly, I slept with my Best friend. Not just once that time either.
I had sex with my best friend 3 times. I could call him that because he was there as much as Kendall had ever been, sometimes more. So yes, I had sex with my best friend three times. He was my first and he was my current and I know he's meant to be my last.
Three times we coupled like animals, mad for each other. We didn’t make love, we hadn’t had sex. We’d just done it. Done the deed three times, and each time it changed our lives. Ruined his. Ruined mine.
But it had always been a natural reaction. We had always spontaneously sprung together, and after, just as spontaneously sprung apart. Simultaneously moved away from each other like the distance meant we hadn’t been that stupid. Done something stupid. Like we hadn’t been so stupid to do it the first time, and then that second time and finally the third. Would have kept doing stupid things together if I hadn’t taken action and walked away. I'd had to walk away to keep the last bit of dignity that I had left. Lose him in that manner because it was easiest to walk away, make it my choice, then stay. Play pretend for a little while longer that things between us hadn’t changed again. Couldn’t stay, wouldn’t stay, when I knew that sooner or later he’d realise how much things had changed and then I’d lose him all over again anyway. So I pushed all of that into a vault, and Taye, Kendall and I operated in the friendship box. Untill everything changed all over again, and I learned they were dating. If two wrongs won't make a right, try a third?
Him smoothing my hair down, petting it back into place just so that Mum wouldn’t get mad at me later. Make me cry. Scream at me that she didn’t know why she spent so long fixing my hair, threaten me with semi-empty threats about how she was going to shave it all off ‘to teach me not to be so naughty’. She often informed me that she wasn’t going to bother fixing my hair if ‘that was all I was going to do’ after.
Like when he kissed all my cuts and bruises that I got from falling over or failing to keep up with him on one of our adventures. Kissed them because he’d seen both of our mums do it a million times before and he knew that it made me happy.
Aged 10 he was the one waiting when i was upset, there for me knowing he was always the one i would run to first. At age 10 he would wash away my tears mature before his time always beyond his years. Aged 10 he told me he would always make me happy, sworn to it. Been so sincere. Not cared that others teased him for hanging around with me, when I was always going to be two years younger.And later when our two became three and Kendall joined in he hadnt minded. Age 10 he told me that he would always be there to make me happy. And at age 10 when he’d made me that promise, he had meant it.
Age 8 I’d smiled when he said that, happier then he could ever know. Smiled with happiness that only he could give me. Age 8 I’d slipped my smaller hand into his bigger one and held on tightly reminding him that I wasn’t about to let go. Age 8 I’d risen on tiptoes, kissed him on the cheek, giggling when he’d shied away embarrassed. And aged 8 I’d calmly informed him that I was going to marry him one day. Age 8 I’d meant it too.
Friday, 18 December 2009
Four letters, one word. Simple.
Four letters, that in reality are far from simple.
My life before love was simple, and I could be described using simple sentances.
I was Stacy.
Kendall's Best friend.
Taye's Girlfriend's Best friend.
Obviously there's no simple lines. I'm stuck with the choice of confessing and breaking my Best friend or piling on more lies to hide an ugly truth. It's hard and it's not simple. I can't bring myself to use these simple descriptions anymore. I'm not the best. Not the Best friend anyway. Girlfriend? I'd become more girl than friend, gotten lost somewhere along the way. Lost and caught up in Taye.
It's complicated. But who wants to listen to excuses? Feeble explanations for awful inexcusable actions, they weren't welcome here!
The creator of the love triangle has got it all wrong. Love knows no shapes or boundaries. Nothing is simple or easy. There's not always three parts to a story, sometimes theres four. And when there is more, is there anyone willing enough to wait and listen? Take all into consideration and withhold prejudice? And when love takes on a shape more complex than a triangle, then what? Well, thing's get messy.
It's spilled into all aspects of my life. A dirty little secret, which in the harsh light of day seems far dirtier! A secret on the verge of discovery. I had done something wrong. I feel sick, and I won't feel better until I make things right.
I am Stacy.
As to everything else? Well, your guess is as good as mine!
Thursday, 17 December 2009
No words available, which is a first. And I have two available options, neither of which is particularly characteristic of me.
Firstly, I could change the topic. Tell her that just the other day I had purchased the greatest dress - perfect for New years Eve! Not tell her that, the dress was in fact chosen and paid for by Taye, her boyfriend. Nor how he had made me model it for him, struck a catwalk in the changing room and not cared who was watching as an appreciative grin spread across his face. Everyone knew we weren't going to do any more shopping that day.
Alternatively, I can act as expected. Throw on an annoyed expression and be upset and concerned on her behalf. It wouldn't be a lie. I am disappointed, in myself. Disappointed in the fact that he isn't quite the dream man because no dream would do this Disappointed too that I could no longer possibly call myself her best friend. And on top of that I was upset. Truly. Ordinarily I loved our 'Coffee Tuesdays'. I had to wait a whole week just to get back there again. One afternoon that Kendall and I had dedicated to catching up and keeping in touch. We refused to be those childhood friends that always, with the best intention planned to keep up but it never quite happened.
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
"I think he's cheating on me", she half whispered it whilst absently stirring sugar into her coffee so that I was uncertain of whether she had actually said it or if i was projecting my instability again.
My heart stopped beating and I struggled to remain calm. Quickly gulping down mouth fulls of scalding Hot Chocolate, nodding my head and attempting to hide my reaction. It burnt the roof of my mouth choking me as much as the guilt I held over my own behaviour.
The process causing me to screech out "Whaaaaaaaaaat???" sounding far more panicked than I had intended.
In all honesty I had imagined confessing so many times. Pictured it all in my head down to the most minute of details. I could tell you exactly what I would be wearing and how I'd style my hair. Knew that I planned to be standing and not sitting when said confession was announced so that I could run if things turned violent. See I knew I purchased good trainers for a reason and I planned to wear them with joggers and a tank top under the guise of being on my way to the gym, and I'd even joined the gym and am happy to say that I'm at the peak of my physical fitness.
In reality I had grown far too comfortable in my current position. It should'nt be easy to juggle a best friend, a boyfriend and a 'boyfriend-ish' (the guy I was cheating with) so easily, or else everyone would do it. That should have been sign number one that the end is nigh!
Kendall was looking at me, waiting for one of my usual long winded hypothesis so that we could hash out every possible ending, it's alternative and possible excuses.
Dabbed at my mouth with a napkin, stalled for time whilst i tried to gage what her next words might be. Considered how best to proceed with this as I smoothed my nearly drenched sweaty palms down my thighs, clenched my fingers into the excess fabric of my trouser legs and tried to discreetly shift in my seat. Dubiously I glanced downwards, eyed the shoes I had put on my feet. HEELS!!! They were useless in a fight or flight situation, I was no where near ghetto enough to wield them as a weapon against my best friend. Mistake number one of the day. Mistake number two? meeting Kendall for coffee.
"I know we promised we would never be the neurotic girlfriends." she sighs. My cue to say something supportive like "If you're thinking this then something must be up!"
Instead I nod my head faster.....I can't help, it before you know I'll be saying 'ooooooooooh yes' and churchhill will be out of a job.
I am a cheat.
And I know what I am doing is wrong. I feel sick to my stomach all the time and have difficulty breathing just thinking about it. Sicker still at the thought of getting caught!
I want to stop, but more than that I want to carry on because I believe something can become of this. I am the girl most girlfriends worry about but hope doesn't actually exist. I am who he is meeting when he tells you 'he can't see you tonight because he's having dinner with Gran'. It's me making him sweaty on Sunday and not 'footy with the lads', they think hes hurt his hand, given him time off for injury. It works just fine when hes stripping off my clothes and running his palm up and down my skin.
I am cheating.
It's immoral and something I swore I could never do. Would never do. "Never say never" because never has just come. I am cheating with him, but not only that, I am cheating myself. I deserve better than sly meetings quickly arranged when its convenient for both of us and no one is around for us to get caught.
8 months ago I said i would quit.
End things before I invested more time and emotion into 'a relationship' that was likely to cause nothing but pain.
I am addicted.
Just can't get enough of him. It's bordering on obsession. I see his face when I am making love to my boyfriend. Feel disappointed when i get a phone call and the voice on the other end is not his. I am an addict and want to quit, but when all is said and done I'm stuck on the high. I am addicted and worse still I think he knows. Calls me just when I am about ready to walk away. Reels me back in when my confidence is wavering and I feel cheap, because a couple of whispered sweet nothings and I am right back in there. Once again tricked into thinking he's worth it.
That together we're worth it.
That the 'girlfriend code' means nothing because I could possibly have a future with him. All those adolescent promises, 'chicks over dicks', 'hoes over bros' and 'sisters over misters' were simply cliches.
Was I meant to pick my best friend who I had already dedicated 22 years of my life to, over the possibility of dedicating the rest of my life to the man of my dreams?
The one guy who had managed to bring the words "I Love You" to the tip of my tongue. So that at the beginning, middle and end of every conversation a battle of words ensued in my mouth. I couldn't begin to tell you how many times I'd said 'I...i...i...L...l.l.l....like you' in response to his numerous declarations of love. I whole heartedly put both my hands and feet into this 'relationship' (and every other body part since we were intimate) but I didn't want to commit my heart as well as my soul!
He was the dream guy.
When I was eleven I had planned my life out so well. I knew for sure that when I was older I would be Beautiful, Rich and Famous. I'd have the car that everyone wanted. More girls would hate me than like me, because I'd be perfect. And I'd have the perfect dream man.
I never would have guessed that the dream man I was so hooked on wasn't my dream but my best friend's.
Seems like I'm cheating on everyone.