When the Priest bound their hands, at their bizarre, disorganised, beautiful wedding – the same Priest who would Christen their children – I realised it was all I would never have.

Twice, it hadn’t been right.

Twice, I’d shrunk from the question.

And instead, I would stand, years from now, bound in sequins and red cloth, shaming my parents and his.  Twice, I would be blessed by Gods I thought I cared nothing for – his and mine.

And stood in that church, holding flowers, holding hands, I knew I’d look back on that day, breathless in a corseted dress, afraid in the unfamiliar eyes of God.  I knew right then, in that moment, that I’d look back and I’d wish that that day had been mine.

And, it could have been, would have been.  I’m not sorry, not regretful, but ashamed.  Of what he is, of what we are, of what I have become.

Holding on, keeping faith, and all the time knowing – I’ve given up the world for someone who can’t shake the shame of me.

On his wedding day, my Best Friend held my hands in his, and whispered,

“It’s all wrong.”

And I’ve searched and searched, at the bottom of every bottle, to find the meaning, find the answer.

My first thought was that he meant his marriage.  But seeing how happy he was, erased any doubts I might have had.  He wasn’t talking about his relationship, or mine.  He wasn’t talking about us.

Our relationships are built on different stones, with meanings and reasons that couldn’t be more different.  We might be wrong together, but does that mean we’re right with the people we’ve chosen?

He loves his wife, and she loves him – the only thing that stands in their way of happiness is her lack of desire for children so early on in their marriage.  But he knows he’ll turn her to his way of thinking, whether it’s right or wrong to do so.

And me?  The only thing really standing in the way of my happiness, is me. 

I’m all wrong.

I am a quarter of a century old today.
(And coincidentally, this is also my blog’s 100th post)

I have done nothing I had planned to do before I hit this milestone.
And I am nowhere near.

I have done little I am proud of, and little that I regret.
My mistakes make me who I am, and my achievements are few and far between.

I am not a mother.
I am a substitute – a teacher.
Someone who borrows your children until 3.15pm, just to feel a little bit of their joy.

I am not a wife.
I am a dirty little secret.
Someone who is not quite good enough to risk a family for.

I am not myself.
I am treading water.
Someone who only knows the path home.

I am 25.  I have a whole lifetime ahead of me.
And it doesn’t feel like enough time.

Sometimes, when one person is absent, the whole world seems depopulated
- Allphonse de Lamartine

It’s over eighteen years since my Granddad died.  I’m close to the majority of my family, but I was closest to him.  And since the day he passed, the world has seemed a little emptier than it should.  There’s been a hole that nothing can fill.

The night he died, just before my 13th birthday, my Dad told my sister and I that our Granddad had passed away, and turned into a star in the sky, that would watch over us and keep us safe.  It was the most beautiful explanation of death I have heard, to this day.

And somehow, on days when I need them to, all the stars seem to shine a little brighter than usual.  As if someone really was up there, watching and guiding me.

I haven’t been inside a church since the last Sunday he was alive.  I don’t consider myself to be religious, and I don’t believe in God.  But I do believe that people live on.  And I know that he will live on in the hearts of everyone who was blessed enough to know him.

Happy Birthday, Granddad.  I miss you almost as much as I love you, still.

The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, not touched.
But are felt in the heart.
-Helen Keller

A frumpy old woman pinned me into a bridesmaid dress that was made out of what I can only describe as scratchy, crappy, cheap material.

She said I looked beautiful, but we both knew I actually looked ridiculous.

When the Fiance had said, “I don’t want anyone to look prettier than me!”, she wasn’t kidding, and she was going all out to make sure no one did.

I felt like I’d borrowed my mum’s dressing up clothes, and I looked like I had, too.

I was the only bridesmaid who had boobs that didn’t resemble fried eggs, and so, unfortunately, the strapless dresses the Fiancé had chosen weren’t going to exactly work for me (something which had, perhaps, been intentional..).

And whilst the frumpy old woman pinned straps onto my strapless dress, I had a revelation.

It took me a little too long to realise.
- But I got there in the end.

Some people are too special to let slip away.
Some friendships are too precious to let fade.

We will fix this.  Because, I belong arm in arm with you, dickhead.

“Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so.”
~ David Grayson

Nearly four years ago, despite me being in a relationship, someone asked me to marry them.  Granted, it was after we’d slammed three shots of tequila in a row.  But he meant it, and I knew.

He asked me one more time, one last time, before I walked away from my job, from him.

I never said, “No”.  I never needed to.  There was a mutual understanding that the answer was not, “Yes”.

Nearly four years ago, I kissed a cheek, held a hand – and walked out of a life that had never begun.

I sat in a room with over fifty people tonight, listening to speeches and shaking the hands of people from another world to mine.  People knew my name – either because they knew me, they knew my family, or they knew that I had been loved.  I had sat in rooms like this before, but with The Other-Half at my side.  Tonight, I didn’t feel small.  My smiles were not fake, and people laughed with me.

I tried to pay attention to the ceremony.  But to my right, there was a man in a turquoise tie, whose feet tapped quietly on the carpet.  And although he never looked across at me, I struggled to keep my gaze from him.

You can be whatever the people who love you, believe you can be. And as soon as I put the key into my front door and greeted The Other-Half through a haze of red wine, I suddenly became so much less than I had been tonight.

A lot of people will argue that you can’t love two people at once.  I would argue that you can, just never as much as they deserve.

There’s no love between us now, just the sad ache that takes over after love has left.

We live different lives, with paths that seldom cross.  But when they do, there’s a spark that burns a hole right through me, and a voice that asks, “What if..?”.  His face betrays him, and I know he feels it too.

I wouldn’t change those 12 months.  I regret not letting him know how much I felt, but I don’t regret not having to say no.

I often wonder what would have happened if I had said yes, if I hadn’t been a coward, if I hadn’t been afraid..
I often wonder what difference one word would have made.

Because sometimes, staying still, hoping that what you have will turn into everything you need – simply leaves you with nothing at all.

Tonight, I kissed a cheek, I held a hand – and again, I walked away from a man who truly deserved more.

After ignoring my calls for a significant amount of time, my best friend called, and said the three words I dreaded most..

“Can we talk?”

And so, we talked.
(Well, he bullshitted, and I listened.)

“I didn’t mean it, any of it, it was just pre-wedding jitters, and I’m sorry.
I know I’m an asshole for complicating things, so can you just punch me or something so we can go back to normal?”

How can it be ‘pre-wedding jitters when they have literally only just got engaged? Everything should be full of excitement and love!

I tried very hard to explain what was preventing us from going back to ‘normal’, but he just didn’t get it.

It wasn’t that I wanted to marry him, it wasn’t that I wanted to entertain the idea of anything more than friendship between us, it wasn’t that I didn’t want him to marry her. It was quite simply just that I didn’t want him to make a mistake.

As far as I’m concerned, we’ll probably both end up settling for someone who isn’t quite everything we’ve always wanted. But I don’t see why that matters, if you go into it with your eyes open. I don’t need a husband who’s going to be my best friend, I just need a husband (applications in the post, please!). I see no problem with keeping those roles completely separate. He, however, seems to have an issue with being closer to me than he is to his fiancé. But you can’t steal someones history, all you can do is make your own, over time.

He loves her, she loves him, I like her – how could I possibly think that their marriage will be a mistake?
Because, before he’s even got the ring on her finger, he’s trying to change her into someone else.

And that, is a recipe for marital suicide.

As for us, we’re trying. Everyone makes mistakes, and our motto has always been to forgive and forget.
We’re not ‘back to normal’. The dynamics of our relationship has changed in such a way that, I’m not entirely sure I know him as well as I thought I did. Forgiving is a given for us, but forgetting.. How do you forget something like that, when wedding plans are being forced in your face on a daily basis?

I think he’s making a terrible mistake, and I hope to hell and back that I’m proved wrong.

This site contains a (strangely, horizontal..) list of polaroid pictures of real people, each with a caption that states what that person would like to do before they die.

Here are some of my favourites polaroids from the site..

What do you want to do before you die?

My answer is below. :-)

Some people never cease to amaze you..

I bumped into a girl I went to school with, in the pet shop this morning. I was keen to get the polite greetings over with, and just get on with buying cat litter. She, however, wanted to have a full-on recount of the past God-know-how-many years in which we hadn’t seen each other.

No, I’m not married.
Yes, she tied the knot two years ago.
No, I don’t have any children.
Yes, she has three.
No, I’m not an IT genius, I work with kids.
No, she doesn’t work, she’s currently sapping state benefits while she sits on her ass and does fuck-all else.

And isn’t it a terrible shame that I’m not married yet. And isn’t it awful for me that I haven’t had any children.. Of course, my children would be ‘half cast‘ and it would surely be really hard for me accept that my kids would be ‘coffee and cream babies’.

Excuse me?

It’s actually not a terrible shame, nor is it awful that I’m not married and don’t have kids. It’s not exactly what I’d say was my choice, but it’s hardly the end of the world. And the fact that if the other-half and I spawn some kids, they will be mixed race, really doesn’t concern me in the slightest, nor should it concern any other human being. Half Cast is a derogatory word, which yes – was used years ago to describe someone of mixed race, but is now incredibly un-PC, and is quite frankly just unac-fucking-ceptable.

I can categorically state that my children will benefit from knowing about two different cultures, two different worlds, and that will not in any way hinder them in being perfectly rounded individuals. In this day and age, how can any grown adult view a child of mixed race as any different to a child who’s parents are from the same race and/or religion?

She really pissed me off. And I made it perfectly clear that she was incredibly lucky that I hadn’t knocked her ignorant, stupid little head right off her shoulders. Coffee and cream babies.. For fuck’s sake.

It never ceases to amaze me how people can still be so ignorant, how they can still be so judgemental and narrow minded.

Sure, I worry that my children might be picked on at school, or that some people may look at them a different way because they don’t fit into some neat little category of race. But I’m 150% sure that not only will I be able to handle that in a positive way, but that I’ll be able to educate and reassure my children that anyone who treats them in a negative way does so simply because they are undereducated, ignorant, racist and small minded.

I first read the poem below when I was fifteen, and instantly fell in love with it. I chose it for my oral work and read the entire poem in dialect, much to the amusement of my idiot classmates..

To me, it perfectly explains how someone can use a word, whether innocently or not, and end up creating all sorts of insinuations about another person. It’s a piece of literary art that I’m sure I’ll read to my kids one day, so that they too can understand that every person is a whole person, no matter who they are, who their parents, or even the parents of their parents are.

John Agard is a legend. And it’s probably worth me pointing out, that the poem isn’t ’spelt wrong’ – it’s written in dialect. Just incase there are any ignorant readers out there that were about to let me know I hadn’t turned my spell check on. :-)

Half-Caste by John Agard.

Excuse me
standing on one leg
I’m half-caste

Explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean when picasso
mix red an green
is a half-caste canvas/
explain yuself
wha u mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean when light an shadow
mix in de sky
is a half-caste weather/
well in dat case
england weather
nearly always half-caste
in fact some o dem cloud
half-caste till dem overcast
so spiteful dem dont want de sun pass
ah rass/
explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean tchaikovsky
sit down at dah piano
an mix a black key
wid a white key
is a half-caste symphony/

Explain yuself
wha yu mean
Ah listening to yu wid de keen
half of mih ear
Ah looking at u wid de keen
half of mih eye
and when I’m introduced to yu
I’m sure you’ll understand
why I offer yu half-a-hand
an when I sleep at night
I close half-a-eye
consequently when I dream
I dream half-a-dream
an when moon begin to glow
I half-caste human being
cast half-a-shadow
but yu come back tomorrow
wid de whole of yu eye
an de whole of yu ear
and de whole of yu mind

an I will tell yu
de other half
of my story

I came across possibly the most appropriate animation I’ve seen of a song, since.. Well, since forever.

It’s only love. Nothing else.
It’s not enough, and it wont do.

God bless YouTube for providing me with these little gems of animation and music rolled into one perfect package.. :-)

Once I’d had time for his words to sink in, I stopped being worried, I stopped being concerned that he would make a mistake. And I started being angry with him, for the first time.

Angry that he could have been so selfish. Angry that he opened his enormous man-mouth. Angry with him for being honest, for being so stupid, for proposing to her, for involving me, for complicating things, for ruining things.

I’m angry that he’s ignoring my calls, angry that he’s let his fiancé arrange another wedding-dress shopping spree with me. Angry that I listened to his words, saw his tears.

I’m angry with him, with myself, with her, with everything.

I’m not about to burst into a pre-teen post filled with angst about how awful my life is. Because it isn’t. I have a career I adore, a partner I’m happy with, a house that has become a home. But suddenly, every wonderful thing has become a little bit dull, a little bit empty.

I was offered a job yesterday, right next to where he works – over an hour’s drive away. Months ago, when I applied for it, the idea of driving an extra hour just so I could spend more time with him seemed like no sacrifice at all. But, to the receptionist’s shock, I turned it down instantly, repulsed by the things that had made me apply for it. ‘Nearer to you, closer to you.’

I turned it down because the thought of being near him makes my skin crawl and my stomach turn. My best friend, and the thought of him, of us, makes me feel physically ill.

Why? – Because he isn’t this person. He isn’t the person who proposes without meaning it, he isn’t the person who turns a friendship into a trainwreck of emotions. My best friend, once a little boy with the blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, now a man with the same deep blue eyes and scruffy, ruffled hair – he’s the most honest, wonderful person I know – ten times the person I could ever hope to be. And I feel cheated, as though every memory, every moment, every photograph and phone call was meaningless and fake.

On one hand, I’m just thoroughly sickened by this whole thing, this whole drama.
On the other, I just want to kiss and make up, forget he ever opened his mouth, get my best friend back.
But the truth is, I’m pretty sure the road back to where we were, is permanently closed.

There’s only one person who could fix this, who could find the words that no one else knew, who could kiss things better – and unfortunately, that person is the person who is to blame.

For the first time in a very long time – I’m facing a horrible, frightening situation, without his hand to hold, completely on my own. And it feels impossibly, overpoweringly lonely.