all in the past...

I think my dear little car is going to give up the ghost very shortly… she is making the most rumbly of noises. If memory serves me correctly.. its the wheel bearings… I had a little Metro years ago that had the same problem which was suitable fixed by “Chris at the Garage”… even though we were never allowed to take my car to “Chris at the Garage”.. we always had to take it to his mums house.. where he worked on cars in his spare time to supplement the crappy wage he got from “The Garage”…..

I used to take so much care of my little Nova… she used to positively gleam…. but now she has that tired look.. her bright blue has taken on a dull tone and the scratches on the passenger side rear wheel arch are a telling reminder to how tight the parking is at work.

When my car was broken into last year… I was devastated… not by the actual break in.. not by the missing stereo and Puddle of Mudd cd… not by the screwed up lock or the buggered up lights… but by the incredibly CRAP job that the nominated garage made of the repairs. Lets not name names here.. but they’re known in these parts as Bodgeman and Ripoff as opposed to their real name. When my insurance company told me which garage I had to use I told them catergorically that I did not want to use that garage. But.. (and with hindsight I was a fool to accept this) the Ins Company told me that they had never received any complaints about the firm and that if I wished to use another company I woudl have to pay them myslef and then claim the money back from them. I just wasn’t in a position to do this so had to use the Bodgeman and Ripoff company. Needless to say they screwed it up royally. The clock light has never worked since… the dash board lights randomly work..or don’t as the case may be… the on the drivers door has NEVER stuck on properly.. the lock is hard as hell to use and the actual door panel is subtle shade of COMPLETELY THE WRONG BLOODY BLUE…… but.. I comforted myself in the knowledge that it didn’t really matter because I was moving to the States. The car would hang on for a few more months until then.

I was going to give the car… as a gift… to a young guy who lives right around the corner from me… hes about to start taking driving lessons and he has always been a good friend to HB and I just felt to repay that friendship in some small way before we leave. I still intend to do so though he may not be so gracious in accepting it now as he would have been 6 months ago when she was looking really good and not on her last legs.

I didn’t care that my car insurance would go up if I made a claim because I didn’t think I would be here the next time the insurance was up for renewal. At least I can start thinking this way now… I’ll not have to concern myself with MOT, or car tax this year.. because thats all due in November… the Visas are taking 4 months to be aprroved… (if we file in April then we should have approval by August) and then we have the interview and medical.. so I should be about ready to leave by November…

My goodness.. I may.. finally.. get to choose a Christmas Tree with him this year….

OK.. tears… laughter… sick feeling…. time to go….

Firstly I’m going to apologise for how huge this post is….. I’ve been wanting to make comments about recent events but have been somewhat cautious…. going over and over in my mind what I want to say… not wanting to be judged harshly by people who only know me from my journal… a place where I pour my heart out sometimes. I guess I am one of those strange.. rare creatures who does actually care what people think of me… even if I don’t know them very well… or even if they are indeed… complete strangers to me. I don’t change myself because of this.. but I do admit to keeping things bottled up if I think I will be judged harshly….

In the past I have used my journal as a refuge to whine, bitch and moan about the shitty situation I am in…. relationship wise.. with My Boy.

I’ve never written about the relationship in the hope that someone will give me advice or tell me what to do.. or what they think I should do… I’ve just written about how I am feeling at that particular time as I have sat down at my desk… whether I have felt at the end of my tether or more euphoric than ummmmm.. ummmm….. “a pig in shit”… to coin an old English phrase….

One of the things that people who know me from my journal may have realised is that I don’t like to tell the people around me about the crappy stuff in my life… I save it for my journal. And that may make me full of self pity (as someone delightfully commented some time ago) or my journal incredibly boring to readers… but… nothing is likely to change. I’m a firm believer in the fact that people have so much of their own bullshit going on in their lives they really don’t need to hear about mine… so I keep it to myself as much as possible and write about it in my silent, non-judgemental journal. That way.. I’m not bothering my friends with my tales of woe.. and neither am I boring them with the continuous rollercoaster that is being 5,000 miles away from the man you love…. and neither am I asking them for advice.. only to then ignore their advice and do what I think is best anyway…

There is one major thing about my life that anyone who has delved a little deeper into my blog/journal will know about me (thats if they haven’t found their way here by typing “Hot Pussy Pics” into Google…) and that is that I am in a long and gut wrenching relationship with a guy who lives in the USA… and that we had huge problems in our relationship in 2004. What people might not know… because I have been reluctant to discuss/write about it for fear of “tempting fate”…. is that we have gotten over those problems and would seem now to be back on track and moving on to happier and better things….

I don’t think I’ve ever really told the story of how we met or how we came to be at this point in our lives… but its pretty long winded and quite a tale to tell…. it is, however, incredibly boring if you don’t want to read about unrequited love and a horrendous long distance relationship that has brought us both to the point of tears on many occassions…. but I’ve decided to tell it now because its kinda coming to a head and starting on the last lap….

GO READ SOMEONE ELSES BLOG RIGHT ABOUT NOW IF YOU DON’T CARE TO BE BOTHERED WITH THE GORY DETAILS OF A LONG DISTANCE RELATIONGSHIP….

I met My Boy in the chat room for a band that I’m a fan of….

*listens for the sound of sighs across the net and watches for the rolling of eyes….

I “met” him a few years ago now… in fact.. we disagree on how long ago it was… I still maintain that it was in the Winter/Spring of 2000/01… We used to literaly say” Hi” and “Bye” to each other due to the time difference… (hes 8 hours behind me)… and would occasionaly voice chat on Yahoo. Well.. chat is the wrong word to use… I was the only English woman in a bunch of American guys and girls and we would have voice conversations on Yahoo in the wee hours (for me). We spent much of the summer of 2001 missing each other by minutes in the chat room and asking our chat buddies “Have you seen Bee?” or “Have you seen Tank lately?”. When the tragedy of 9/11 occured My Boy made a post on a message board that stirred me to see another side of him. I found myself more and more interested and intrigued by him. I wanted to talk with him… and.. according to him.. he felt the same way. We would lurk online hoping the other would sign in.. but never having the guts to declare our interest in each other. He was… as I was fully aware… still married although living a seperate life from his wife… and…. to be honest.. I was too sensible to be even worried about falling for him because it was… after all… an internet friendship.

This internet friendship grew and grew though and before long we were talking on the phone… racking up huge phone bills. He told me that the first time he heard my voice over the phone he knew that he wanted to be with me. Once we started talking on the phone I knew things were really getting to the point that I either had to give myself up to the feelings I had… or that I had to put a stop to the relationship that surely couldn’t go anywhere.

I decided to wing it. I gave myself up to it… telling myself that I could deal with any outcome… but that if I did nothing else daring in my life I had to do this one thing and meet this man who I had connected with across 5,000 miles.

I justified this to myself (because in some weird way I felt that I had to) by telling myself that we do… after all… only come this way once.  The fact that 5,000 miles stood between me and what I perceived to be the rest of my life didn’t phase me. Well… not much anyway…

And so the relationship grew and grew until we finally decided to bite the bullet.. take the chance and meet. We made plans for meeting first in the April… but that all fell through and then he got what can only be described as the luckiest break ever…. he had to come to Europe and work in Dublin for a month/6 weeks…. and Dublin was only a one hour direct flight away from my home city of Plymouth.

And so.. in the August of 2003 I found myself shaking in my boots with excitement, trepidation and sheer unadulterated joy in the Arrivals (thats just the fancy name given to the area.. the whole airport terminal is smaller than the building my office is in) lounge of the city airport.

He had arrived in Dublin from Portland the day before… literally dropped his bags in his hotel room… packed another smaller bag and turned around straight back to the airport to get on a plane to come and see me.

I remember watching as the plane landed… struggling to see him walk down the steps and giving up and deciding I would just go wait for him to get through the gate. He came round the corner with his bag slung over his shoulder… his sunglasses on and I fell to pieces. I looked down at my feet because I couldn’t watch him coming towards me because it felt like every step he took was taking an eternity… and only bring him millimetres closer to me… and before I knew it he was there in front of me… and we didn’t say a word and he just took me in his arms and I buried myself in his neck and we sobbed…. because this was something that we had both wanted for so long… and finally… finally we were together.

We spent the most amazing weekend together and then he flew back to Dublin.. and we both looked forward to the next time we would see each other… and we spent that summer in a haze of short flights backwards and forwards to Dublin… and I spent the most amazing relaxing week there with him as well.

No sooner had we met than his work jolly seemed to be over and he tripped off back to the States… and I followed shortly after… in the October…. with my daughter in tow.  We spent the most amazing 2 weeks with him in Portland. I saw DEEP snow (which he laughs at because it isn’t at all deep by NorthWest standards) on Mount Hood at Timberline Lodge and on one of our last evenings together he got down on bended knee and proposed… and I thought about it for like… a nanosecond and accepted. And I came home with a shit load of carats on my finger and a smile that not even George Clooney, Al Pacino and Bobby DeNiro could have wiped off my face.

We made plans.. but he told me that his divorce was dragging on and on… that his ex-wife was going to screw him for as much as she could.. and make the divorce take as long as she possibly could… and things started to get a little rough.

Now this is the point where I’m going to glaze over matters…. everything that happened in 2004 can be found in my journal… and I’m not about to go over it here.. because I am.. quite truthfully and honestly over it… and have no wish to regurgitate it all again.

Fast forward to late last year and My Boy telling me he needed some time… fast forward a little more to a couple of months ago… he didn’t need a lot of time… but now I did… and in the time that we allowed each other to have… we both realised that the one thing we want more than anything else is each other…. (I’ve kinda known this all along but because hes a guy he needs to make it hard on himself and everyone around him before he figures the shit out for himself).

And so.. we find ourselves back to where we should be… filling out visa application forms… getting our evidence of relationship together and basically going into overdrive to get myself and my daughter there with him to make our family complete…

There are people out there who will shake their heads in disbelief.. there are people out there who will call me a fool for putting up with so much and accepting him back… there are people out there who will judge me by the little (yes.. this is a little) bit of information that I have given you…. but honestly… let me justify myself and my actions…. by saying this….

“We only come this way once…”

allow me my chance at happiness… it might never come this way again…..

MP at work is a church going…. singing in the choir…. piano playing… horse, hound and hunting loving… God fearing woman…. shes delightfully well spoken and incredibly upper class (if that phrase still exists nowadays).

At the weekend she hung out with a keyboard player from Black Sabbath, a ton of other rock stars and a Vicar who used to be in a rock band…. She doesn’t know anybodies name but had a fabulous shindig for her 50th Birthday party….

Apparently the Vicar.. the Black Sabbath keyboard player and a couple of guys with guitars jammed in the garden for a few until there was a call from the local police telling them they had received a complaint from someone in the village about the noise….

that made me chuckle… I wonder how many Police stations in the UK get complaints about the noise at the Vicarage….

I’ve been mulling over that quote for most of the day today… in my sleepy wheezy chesty tired little world…. surrounded by the giggles and hysteria that comes with the territory of looking after Barbies 10 year old daughter…

I’ve decided that in my chest infected state I shouldn’t spend time considering whats happened.. or rather.. what hasn’t happened over the past 14 days…. I’ll just deal with it another day when I’m feeling better….