The End of the Affair

Okay, I admit it. I have been having an affair.

I never thought I was capable of that kind of behaviour but it sort of just happened, and before I knew it, I was completely swept off my feet.

At first my husband was oblivious to the situation but it was the little changes in my behaviour that alerted him to the fact. Suddenly I was in a good mood all the time. Nothing bothered me. I felt good and I looked good because I was singing on the inside.

And then there were the trips away. A few days here, a week there. All in the guise of business.

The thing is, I have lived the last five years in limbo, torn between a life I know and another life that fills me with joy and possibilities.

You may be wondering how my husband dealt with it. Well, in a strange way he benefitted from my affair and so he chose to ignore it in the hope that one day it would come to an end.

You see, my affair was not with another person. It was with a place.

I have written about Mallorca before. About going there after an absence of seventeen years and feeling like I had come home.

I feel a special kind of happiness and contentment deep within when I am there. Something that I haven't felt anywhere else.




But last October we went to Florida after an absence of five years, and as I looked around at my family's happy faces, it dawned on me that this was their ideal holiday spot.

They had supported me over the years and enjoyed Mallorca, but here in Florida I could practically hear their hearts singing in their chests and I knew that enough was enough. It was time to cut the strings.

And so, we didn't go to Mallorca this year. We went to Tenerife. The apartment was lovely, the pool quiet, the weather hot, the food good. All the ingredients for a perfect holiday.

Only, it wasn't Mallorca. Or Florida. And try as we might, I didn't hear anyone's hearts singing or even mildly humming.




And yet, I sat there with no yearnings for Mallorca. Yes, we'll go back again sometime but that all consuming passion is gone. I am finally over the affair.

Florida, on the other hand, is calling from somewhere deep within. A slight longing for the golf, the shopping, the people. The parks, the rodeo, the margarita 2 for 1 happy hours. Ruby Tuesdays, The Steak 'n' Ale, BJ's.

Mmmm. I'm beginning to sing just thinking about it.

Only this time I won't be alone in my infatuation.           

     

The best seat on the bus

I saw this advert last night and couldn't help feeling it's sending the wrong message to men. How many of them will use this to nab the best seats on the bus?

"Aw, sorry hen. Ah didnae want tae insult ye!"

Pillow Talk

Man:  Am I the first man to make love to you?

Woman:  Of course ... I don't know why you men keep asking the same silly question.

How Old Would You Be If You Didn't Know How Old You Were?

I saw this question on a greeting card the other day and it got me thinking.

Would I go back to my childhood? Being a child is great. No responsibility, just endless days of fun. Hmm, tempting.

Would I be a teenager again? No way. Too much angst, too much insecurity, too many nights of quiet desperation.





 
In my 20's? They were fun and I thought I knew everything, but looking back, I really didn't.

My 30's? Just as much fun but feeling much more secure.

40's? Not doing that again! I lost myself in my 40's. Suddenly I was a wife and mother as well as a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a best friend. Where did I go? Who was this person who spent so much time looking after others that she forgot to look after herself? Where did the person I thought I was disappear to? The one who loved travelling, and speaking languages, and dancing, and horseriding, and ski-ing and adventure. How did she let herself get buried under the mound of responsibility?

50's? Okay, so my 50's have just started, and let me tell you, they've started well. But would I choose to be here and be this me?

60's plus? Realistically, at the age of 50, I'd rather take years off than put them on.

The more I ponder the age thing, the more complicated it gets. If I go back to my childhood, can I stay there? Or do I then have to grow up and relive the whole teenage angst thing, the 25th birthday when I thought my life was over because I was a quarter of a century old, the painful breakup of a relationship, a first marriage.

And then I think, if I didn't know how old I was, then I wouldn't have had all these experiences to colour my judgement. And if I hadn't lived this life that makes me ME, then how would I decide which age to be?

Arghhhhh! My head hurts.

Suddenly the thought of the womb is tempting. Space to myself. A space to stretch and grow and move around. Dance if I want to. A comfy bed. Nourishment on tap. Peace and quiet. No-one bothering me. Plenty of time for quiet contemplation.

Is it cheating to go to a minus age?

On the other hand, I could forget the age thing and book a spa holiday. Space to myself. A space to stretch and grow and move around. Dance if I want to. A comfy bed. Nourishment on tap. Peace and quiet. No-one bothering me. Plenty of time for quiet contemplation. 

Now, that's more like it!