Part 3 (2/2)
”Nothing on the matrimonial front, yet?”
”Havent raised it for a while, it just creates tension. How about you?”
This is another standing joke - my inability to find any man worthy of me.
”No, nothing to report there. But I did meet an interesting man this week on the plane back from France.”
”Tell me more....” Carole quipped.
”Hes married, got kids, so thats a no go area. He was keen to meet me again so weve agreed to meet up next week for lunch.”
”Hey you. Sounds like hes a fast worker, and youre giving him a big green light.”
”No Carole, its not like that.” No sooner had I uttered the words than I realised how stupid they sounded.
”Oh, yes?” she asked.
”No. Hes most odd. I cant explain. He burned my ear with all this stuff about s.e.xism in the army. Like I say, hes an odd-ball.”
”So, why are you meeting him?”
It was a pertinent question.
”Oh. Im not sure. He has lovely eyes. He is a practiced flirt. Hes intelligent, a consultant, a writer.”
”Youre smitten. I can tell.”
”Oh dont say that Carole. I have no idea whether Im doing the right thing and you know what Im like with men. But he seems different. I want to satisfy my curiosity.”
”And your libido?”
”I dont think so,” I said weakly, but I didnt even convince myself so I doubt that I convinced her.
”Go for it, I say! You only live once.”
We are so alike.
”Yeah! Ill call you in the week; let you know how it goes.”
”Too right you will.”
”Say 'hi to mum for me if you talk to her.”
”I will. Stay cool.”
”Bye sis”
And with that, we both put down the phone and returned to our very different lives.
Chapter 9.
My weekend was fairly typical: shopping, cleaning, reading, relaxing and sleeping. Living on my own, I have the pleasure of buying in exactly the foods I wish, watching only the television that I want to, and getting up when I like. I can also avoid having my house systematically trashed by boisterous kids (although I imagine it wont be long before my nephew will oblige). Not having a man about the house also helps in that respect; most men who I let into my bed think that the corner of my room has an invisible linen bin placed there. There is a constant battle to train them to put their clothes in a bag ready for them to take away when our romantic interludes are concluded. No way am I going to start was.h.i.+ng their clothes.
But I cant deny that there is loneliness too. I still cant get used to going to bed by myself and I especially miss the pleasure of waking up next to someone, snuggling up to them, and sharing my thoughts and feelings. I dont always feel safe on my own. Despite the faade of strength I present at work, if the doorbell rings on a dark winter evening I use my spy hole to check whos the other side. If it is a man I do not know and sometimes even if I do I dont let them in. I particularly hate having workmen in the flat during the day.
One thing that only women can understand, I think, is the silent fear we have of violence. Breaking up with a man is traumatic because you never know how hes going to react. Some withdraw into themselves and skulk off; but with others you can visibly see their bodies convulse with anger. Sometimes I get really scared. So far none have hit me, but my sister was not so lucky. Her last boyfriend punched and kicked her when she ended the relations.h.i.+p. Sitting with her, looking at her bruised mouth and eye, holding her hand while she sobbed like a young child, watching her shrivel with humiliation as she admitted to a nurse how she received her injuries; thats an experience thatll never leave me.
By Sunday, Id done my ch.o.r.es so I took myself off to the Malvern Hills for a walk. It was a pleasant day, warm for April, and I was able to remove my jumper and wear just a tee-s.h.i.+rt and shorts. Walking gives me a wonderful sense of freedom; time and s.p.a.ce to think. At the moment I wonder whether my life is going in the direction that I want. On the surface it looks very fulfilling; good career with responsibility and the chance to travel; two circles of friends (inside and outside work) that balance each other and provide good times and support for bad times. I have a nice home and neighbours; a family I can see when I need (far enough away not to crowd me but close enough to visit the same day). Im sufficiently attractive to be able to enjoy male company more or less whenever I like, so why do I feel so empty?
As I walk on the brow of the hill I look north towards Worcester. The houses on the plain are as tiny as an architects model and the specks that move slowly along the motorway look like matchbox cars. The wind buffets my face as I stand like the French Lieutenants Woman; an isolated and desolate beauty searching the wilderness for something in life that will make it more meaningful and satisfying. In my mind, I recall Johns comment that looking down on the world reminds us of our insignificance.
Am I significant? Do I make a difference? Have I had a positive influence on the people Ive known? I wasnt sure. Ive been hard on boyfriends who would not make a commitment to me, but perhaps it is me who is avoiding commitment. The life I have is safe, and I have many things that give me pleasure, but deep in my heart Im still quite lonely. Even when Im shacked up with a man, I still feel lonely.
Family and friends are great but there are limits to how I can be with them. If my parents knew how I behaved sometimes they would probably die with shame; I cant show them the real me. I even hide my feelings from my sister. My deepest need; the desire to share myself physically, emotionally and spiritually, cannot be satisfied with any of them. In fact, Im not sure there is anyone with whom I can do that. Why is it that the greatest source of pleasure is also the source of so much fear and pain?
As I resume my walk I cannot help but notice that most people are walking with someone else. Husbands walk with wives (lovers or friends, perhaps). Parents walk with children. Rarely do I see two women or two men walking together; the hills are filled with people who have come to terms with sharing themselves with another. I dont think Ive shared myself fully with anyone. Im too afraid.
Chapter 10.
Im in Leeds today. The interviews went off as well as could be expected. I found a man and woman; both married. Both with children in the 11-15 age range and extended family support (thats usually necessary in this line of work). There was a single woman with previous direct sales experience and good family support so I think we have found the people we need. I also interviewed a single man who had won custody of his children. He too seems to possess the necessary enthusiasm and skills.
At the moment, Im driving back to meet John. I cant help but feel excited even though I know this is not an appropriate way to feel. I have George Benson playing ”Lady, Love Me One More Time” on the CD player and this fuels an expectation that lunch will be the start of a romance. I keep reminding myself that this is an unrealistic (and unhealthy) way to be thinking but the b.u.t.terflies in my stomach wont go away, no matter what I do. We e-mailed each other over the weekend and agreed to meet at Pizza Hut. As I enter the outskirts of town, the clock shows there are only 50 minutes to go and my breathing deepens and lengthens as my nerves start to intensify.
”Stop it!” I shout. ”Go away!” but ranting makes no difference. I wish I didnt feel like this. I shouldnt be meeting him. But I keep driving towards the town centre, turn right into an NCP car park, watch the barrier rise, see the front of the car turn to the left and climb the levels. The car parks itself as if Im on auto-pilot. I try not to think and focus on getting through the next few minutes.
Find the exit. Go down the stairs. Turn left. Now right. Along the high street. Look in the shop windows. Check my handbag. Where is my lippy? Look in the shop window. Apply evenly. Press lips together. Turn left. Continue. Go to cashpoint. Press 7725. Enter. Choose ”Cash no receipt”. 50. Wait for card. Take the money. Turn left. Walk. Open the door.
”Penny! There you are.” The moment I hear his words I come out of my trance.
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