Before I was married, I spent most of my time sampling a smorgasbord of lovers, without feeling any need to restrict my appetites to only one person. During those heady days of sexual freedom, there was always the thought in the back of my mind that I would one day ‘settle down’. I never questioned the expectation that… Read More
As soon as the taxi dropped me at home, I telephoned my mother to let her know I was safe and sound. “How long were you away this time?” she asked. “Nine weeks,” I said. “We had rehearsals in Tokyo and then performed at the Singapore Arts Festival.” There was a long silence on the other end… Read More
I am fifty years old and my ovaries are on their last legs. They manage to muster up enough effort to squeeze out a tired old egg every couple of months or so, but to be honest, we’ve reached the bottom of the barrel. Very soon there will be none left. I could be accused… Read More
When I read about other people’s grief, I am ashamed. I cannot legitimately take my place among those who mourn the loss of someone they loved, someone who they miss every day and who they long to see again for just a few moments. My husband is dead, and the manner of his death was unnatural… Read More
When I look back at my long marriage to a man who was emotionally damaged and took that damage out on me, I wonder why I stuck it out so long. I think of myself as intelligent, mature and courageous and yet all these character traits seemed absent within the four walls of our private lives. Allowing someone to abuse me for so long just doesn’t seem feasible given my personality.
On Saturday, my boyfriend’s ex-wife made a vow to love another man until they are parted by death. Unlike me, she isn’t afraid to give marriage another try.
It’s been a while since I’ve spoken to you, but today it is twenty years since we were married, so you’re on my mind.
The last four years, since you’ve been gone, have passed by so quickly, and there’s so much you’ve missed. Why, just yesterday, Rik Mayall passed away. I cried for the loss of his smile in this world, and because you would never know. Perhaps you do know. Maybe he’s with you somewhere, chuckling to himself about all the fuss he’s caused.
Who are my ancestors? The parents and grandparents of my adopted parents, or the family of the woman who gave birth to me almost fifty years ago?
The explanations are too hard. The place is dark and uninviting and yet it draws me back to it again and again. Am I trying to justify what happened or to explain to myself why it did? It makes no sense even now. I regret being with him. It’s the one thing I truly regret.
If you don’t want someone to kiss you, hold you, and ravish you so completely that you forget your own name, then internet dating is probably not for you. So from here on in I’m assuming you’re up for a bit of sexy time.
As well as being an actual widow, I have become a work widow. My boyfriend works in other cities and other countries more than he is home. I am often left by myself in an empty house.
I’ve come up with my own reasons why Mr Smith’s kind of marriage isn’t for me.
1. I am an independent, self-sufficient woman and I don’t need anyone else to make me happy. Being in a loving relationship with my boyfriend brings joy to my life, but I know I could be happy on my own.
I’ve been thinking about the concept of unconditional love and transparency in a relationship. What if there was a workable alternative to monogamy that nurtured everyone involved rather than destroyed them?
