Broken Bay Writers – Stories of NSW Central Coast and beyond

Scribbles on life, the universe and everything… Woy Woy, Ettalong, Umina and teh Central Coast that is!

Tag Archives: love

The Secret

Perhaps it’s my negativity, but I find some people who consider themselves positive role models to be nothing more than damaged individuals who live within their own “positive” reality that isn’t very positive at all.

I find it hypocritical to call yourself a positive person when you use your tongue to offend others. Being racist is not positive, telling a person to be something other than what they are is not positive. Talking down to people is not positive. “Telling” people your success story instead of “sharing” your success story is not positive. Thinking you are perfect and others are not, is not positive.

I acknowledge that my positive attitude requires work; in fact it requires constant work. But, I also know that money isn’t everything and does not necessarily mean success, although I am willing to have money as well as my other successes.

I like money, but I don’t need money to know I have successfully raised two beautiful children, I am successful in my life, happiness and my relationship, and in fact I think I am the luckiest person in the world when it comes to spouses. I scored a perfect man!

It doesn’t matter what colour skin you have, or what walk of life you come from, I am likely to like you because I am a people person… I like people. I don’t see myself as inferior to you, but I don’t see myself as better than you either. I work hard not to judge and ask that you do the same.

I like to have conversations with people, not at people. I like to share my stories, but I want to hear yours too. I am not perfect at my conversational and listening skills, but I work at them…do you?

I am polite. I won’t tell you how pretty I am or how young I look and you could to if you were just like me. I won’t tell you that you have to change if you want to be successful. Why won’t I tell you these things? Because it is rude and who am I to be pretentious enough to think that I know the exact changes you should make to be successful or that you are unhappy with how you look. In fact, you may already consider yourself successful and I will bet a lot of people think you look great just as you are.

Yes, this is a rant and yes I am almost finished with my rant. So, how to handle these people, these positive people who are not actually positive people at all? Fuck them! I know that’s not a very positive statement, but that’s who I am. I won’t tell them that, because it’s my “stuff” and I don’t want to hurt their feelings.

I am caring, polite, considerate of others, a worrier, emotional, a hard worker, negative at times, positive at times, always a believer in the human race, a lover, an adventurer, a seeker of opportunity and loving of all things and people great and small, black and white (unless you are a spider). That my friends’ is what I positively believe…to be the secret!

My Partner has a Mistress…What To Do?

I had never imagined that I would be in a relationship where I had to be concerned about a Mistress as I have a lot to offer. I offer him my unconditional love and feel that love back. But it’s not enough to stave away the Mistress. Not only do I have to agonize about her, she has strength and a seductiveness that cannot be matched.
She clutches my man with determination and stamina that leads me to believe she is the devil herself. Her grasp is at times tender, enveloping him, creating a sense of euphoria, the experience…orgasmic. Suddenly, she digs her nails in; the euphoria is replaced with a primal need. Once again, he is under her spell.
She doesn’t make him happy, in fact the opposite is true; she devours his very soul. This is not love, not the kind of love he and I share, yet still, I know that when I am with him, he is thinking of her.
Their relationship is strong, all consuming, racked with guilt. Not from her, the guilt is reserved for him. She is not just a Mistress; she is an obsession, his obsession.
He has tried to leave her…many times. She gently massages him, drawing him back into her clutches, once again. She offers a hedonic experience. An experience he craves, to the point of thinking of no others.
Who is this Mistress who carries so much power?
Her name…Addiction! An all-consuming food addiction!
How do I compete with his Mistress? I believe. I believe in our love, I believe in his strength to overcome, I believe in him and I support him…unconditionally.

The “Big Guy” is mine!

Living with an obese person has many challenges. The first and biggest challenge I faced early in the relationship was “do I want to get involved with someone who might not be around for very long?” I really had to think long and hard about this because I knew that Al was very obese. I know what his chances are of having a heart attack, stroke or any of the other medical problems that come along with obesity. Am I prepared for a potential “short term” relationship? When you really think about it, do we ever know how long the relationship will last or how healthy either of us will be next year or next week? One of us could be hit by a bus tomorrow and gone in the blink of an eye.

Then there are the challenges of friends and family. It was funny because this wasn’t something I really expected from friends, but it is where I heard it the most. “Isn’t he quite fat?” “Do you really want to be with an overweight person?” “Does it turn you off?” It made me realize that for some people, love doesn’t have much to do with it. Vanity really does come into play!

In the beginning I got caught up in this by feeling that I had to explain “he is a wonderful person, he has such an amazing soul to him, he’s so smart and successful, he loves me and appreciates my love in return. He is funny, witty and very very wise”. Would I have to say all of this or explain if he was of “normal” weight? I wonder! Then comes the big question “He must be rich then?” No, he’s not and would it make a difference if he was? The only thing that I have come to learn from all of this is that there are far too many shallow people in the world. I feel for them because they may be missing out on having a very deep meaningful relationship because they let their vanity and shallowness get in the way.

Another of the challenges of living with and loving an obese person, is when total strangers make comments. Al and I were out walking one day along a highway when a group of youths driving by in a car, slowed down just enough to shout “fat ass” and profanities at Al. It made me realize how sad the human race really is. I was much more angry than he was. He takes it all in stride, probably because he is used to it. I wanted to take him in my arms and shield him from these small people forever which is quite silly because Al is a “big boy” and is more than capable of looking after himself.

After living with Al for awhile the next challenge was not to say something when he was overeating. This is not something I have done very well at. I tend to make comments like “aren’t you full?” “Have you not had enough?” Silly me, because obviously he is not full and has not had enough. I find it so hard to sit back and watch a person that I love so much continue to destroy themselves. But, overeating (which is Al’s problem) is an addiction. He can’t just turn it off, nor can I. All I can do is support him in whatever effort he makes.

Which is what he is doing right now. Making an effort and then some. Yes, he had lap band surgery, but that doesn’t mean that you are just going to lose weight without effort. In fact, I have followed a few blogs where people are trying to figure out how to get a hamburger down post lap band! Why do it then???

One of the things I love about Al (and there are many) is his commitment when he makes a decision. From the moment he decided to have the surgery ( I was awestruck), he has been committed. He has put 110% into making it work which is why I know it will work. He will not give up or start to circumnavigate the advantages the lap band offers as long as you stick to the plan.

The bottom line is that I will support Al. It does not matter what the outcome is, he is my partner, my spouse, my love. It doesn’t matter if he weighs 350 pounds or 180 pounds, he is still the same Al (maybe more energetic), he is funny, witty, caring, loving, very very wise and he is mine!

It’s Not That You Have the Fear, It’s What You Do With It!

Dogs know what they are doing.  Have you ever seen them?  Hanging their head out the car window?  Just hanging on by their toes?  I read somewhere that dogs enjoy the open window, not because of the wind rushing over their face, but because of all the smells in the air.  Imagine the smells we miss with the windows rolled up and the air conditioning or heater on?

You don’t have to imagine it when riding a motorcycle.  The wind rushes past you and the smells assault your senses.  

When I was a young girl growing up in a remote environment, motorcycles were are part of life.  My sister and I had a mini-bike and a motor scooter.  My brother had a moped as well as a “street” bike.  A man from a neighboring community took me under his arm one year and taught me how to race dirt-bikes on the oval track. I was racing his 125.   I found it exhilirating, to say the least.  

A series of events changed the way I felt about motorcycles.  I was riding the 125 with a “city” girl on the back when she caught her foot in the spokes sending us careening down the dirt road skin first.  I was unscathed, but she had landed on her chin and split it wide open.  I felt responsible.  I should have been more careful with a “non rider” on the back.  

Then, the guy who was teaching me to race, quit calling.  The next I heard was when the police phoned to ask me questions about when I had seen him last and who he was with.  I never saw him or heard from him again.  My dirt-bike racing days were over virtually before they started.

When I was 14 a very good friend had a major accident on his motorcycle.  Totally his fault, going too fast for the road conditions.  He was in a coma for almost a year.  With brain damage, it was a different person who came home.

For whatever reason, I swore off bikes.  The years have gone by and here I am with a new love in my life.  Go figure, he would be a bike fanatic!

The first time I got on the back of his bike, I was nervous.  My heart was beating fast and my hands were sweaty.  It is amazing what can happen when you are trying to impress someone. I persevered! The relationship flourished.

Now we have just bought a new Triumph.  I am so excited, for him and for me.  He is not a complete person without a bike and I have really started to enjoy something that I loved to do as a child.  It helps that he is a very competent rider and I feel totally safe with him at all times.  He is not one of those riders who feels the need to “be a man” and scare the shit out of me.  He is always aware of my uneasiness and discomfort and strives to alleviate my fears.  He does it well because I am becoming more and more comfortable on the back of the bike.

As I relax, I am starting to notice everything around me, especially the smells.  Here in Australia there are many fragrant flowers and trees.  I am now smelling the various scents with vigor.  Okay, I might not like the same smells as a dog, but I do enjoy the onslaught to my senses.  I even relish in the wind blowing in my face.

Where did that fearless little girl go?  I don’t know where she went, but I do know one thing for certain… she’s back!

A Canadian Living in Australia

Here I am on the other side of the world!

I didn’t come here for work or because I have always wanted to experience living in another country.  No, I came here because I fell in love with an Australian.

He had worked in Canada for over 3 years when I met him.  We met in May and started seeing each other in September.  He already knew he was going home next March.  We went into the relationship with the idea that it was going to be short term.  That didn’t last for long.
We spent all of our spare time together and when we couldn’t be together we spent the rest of the time on the phone or internet talking.
We were trying to live in a long distance relationship, but it wasn’t working.  We lived about 3 hours apart.  We took the plunge and essentially moved in together.  Although neither of us gave up our apartments, we stayed at each other’s place on alternating weekends.  The weekdays were taken up with work, although I sometimes worked from his place.
The stress on each of us and on the relationship was incredible.  As the date of his departure grew near, I talked him into staying another 4 months.  Not sure why or what I thought I would accomplish with 4 more months, but it worked out.
In that 4 months we grew together as a couple and knew beyond a doubt that we would be staying together.  This meant I was moving!
It was exciting, stressful exhilarating and gutsy for both of us.  We haven’t looked back!
We both arrived in Sydney July 2008, he was, we were, coming home…