The other day I was wandering through Foodland and had a look in the meat fridge. I'm a vegetarian, but I'm used to seeing all sorts of meat cut into neat slices, ready to be picked up by the next carnivorous punter. But when I peeped into the fridge the other day, I saw what I think might be the most grotesque thing I've ever seen: chicken feet. I snuck a photo, which you can see below.
I knew people ate chicken feet, but I thought they were something you'd find at an Asian supermarket or a specialty store, not Foodland. I don't know how people can eat them, I really don't. I think all meat is disgusting, but oddly, I sometimes crave things like steak or corned beef. I have never craved chicken feet, though, and I would love to know how anyone could be planning a meal and suddenly think, "Gee, I could go some chicken feet."
To make up for the horror of the chicken feet, when I got to the checkout I saw a number of beautiful bunches of flowers. Three of them had been wrapped in a sparkly type of paper, which instantly caught my eye as they shimmered under the lights. I took two photos of the flowers, which you can see below.
Whilst I remained deeply disturbed by the lengths humans will go to satisfy their hunger, I walked through the mall at Norwood and, in front of another Foodland, I saw more beautiful flowers. They finally put an end to the darkness that had been inhabiting my mind.
I love it when you pick up a bunch of flowers from a bucket and water drips everywhere, and there's a little bit of chaos before the formalities of purchasing them begin.
These flowers at both Foodlands really brightened my day. I know supermarket flowers can sometimes get a bad rap, but they are just as beautiful and perfect as the ones that come out of any of those elitist florists about the place.
Throughout this blog I have established that I am without a partner, and I have been without one for a very, very long time. I've also talked about how I haven't engaged with a man romantically, or in any other way, since 2013, which is 13 years ago. I've had the odd flirtation, but I haven't really been open to anything.
That's because I feel gross. I've put on so much weight, I feel old, and I've been told I have unconventional looks. It's been so much easier to hide away, which is what I have literally been doing. I go through phases where I want someone, phases where I want to be alone, and phases where I think that maybe, once I've lost some weight and I'm feeling better about myself, I might meet someone.
But in general, I am happy without a man. I don't want a man, and I feel like I have made so many mistakes in the past that any relationship I entered into would cause reputational harm to my partner. So I just want to be alone. I really do.
But I've had an unusual experience over the last week with a man I know through a society I used to be a member of. I've actually mentioned this man before. His name is Liam. He is the manager of a cinema, and I attended a fundraiser there a couple of months ago and saw him. I sensed there was a little bit of a flirty vibe from him, but I can never tell what a man is thinking about me, so I just assumed it was nothing.
I applied for a call centre role which required me to invite four people, whether they be former managers, peers, professors or even friends, to provide me with an online reference. Since Liam and I had worked together through the society, I sent him a message and asked if he would mind filling out the reference form for me as a peer. He said he would be happy to.
Then we got texting.
The first day we texted for a really long time, hours, just about everyday things. Liam has a partner who he has been with since 2018, and initially I thought nothing of this text exchange. Then one night he was working at the cinema. All the staff had gone home and we were texting.
It was like I was with him in real time. He was in a projector room, then he moved into the dark cinema, and while he wasn't overtly being sexual with me at first, he started talking about what he was thinking about doing in the cinema. Then he asked me if I would like to come and meet him there one night.
I said yes, knowing full well that I would never go, but things became really flirty. I told him about how I am usually up all night, every night, and on this particular night he went home and then stayed up talking to me until 5:00am, which is my safe time, when the fear tends to subside.
We have been speaking every day since. He has been very sexual with me now, and he has also mentioned feelings. From my perspective, I haven't done anything to end it, and I don't know why.
Make no mistake, I have no respect for him. I really don't. If he actually likes me, he is telling me that he is willing to have conversations like this with other women while he is in a relationship. He is outlining his behaviour to me, and it is incredibly unimpressive.
I'm going to cut him off. I feel bad because he really is a very nice person, but I don't appreciate the sentiment. It's weird too. Men are usually more interested in me for my personality rather than making such explicit sexual demands, but to each their own.
I don't want a man. I really don't. But if I did, I would never get into a relationship with someone who had spoken to me like this while they were with someone else. On top of that, I would never be with a man who left his partner for me, because how could I ever be happy with someone all the while knowing that our happiness had made someone else so unhappy?
If this man had established a solid friendship with me, and then maybe found himself single at the same time as me, perhaps something could have happened. But that's the only way it can happen with men who are in relationships or married.
This experience with Liam started off as thrilling, to be honest, but now it just feels cheap and nasty and I want to distance myself from it. But it made me think about the last man I was ever with.
My goodness, it was so long ago. Thirteen years. That's a whole lifetime. I was 31 years old and I still realistically held onto the dream that I would meet someone, settle down, get married and start a family. It was only two years after the humiliation with the judge, and I was nowhere near healed from that, but I remember thinking it was about time I got back out there. Not necessarily to look for someone, but just to put myself out there.
I had a girlfriend who was having a party. I can't remember what it was actually for, but thinking back now, it could have been her 30th birthday. She told me she had a friend named John who she wanted me to meet. I hate being set up. I always feel inadequate, like the man I'm being set up with might be disappointed to be set up with me. But because it was a party and lots of people were going to be there, I told her I'd love to meet him.
John was a journalist, and he was just like so many other journalists I have met: a little sarcastic, cynical and funny. He was also incredibly good looking. John was around 15 years older than me, but that seemed like nothing after the relationship I'd had in my head for the past two years with the 60 year old judge.
There was a bonfire outside and both of us were staying over at my friend's house, so after a few drinks we made our way inside. I remember the video clip for Britney Spears' song Hold It Against Me was playing on the television, and that song always reminds me of this night whenever I hear it.
Thinking about it now, I think I was trying to prove to myself that I was attractive, so I led John into one of the bedrooms. I am so shy I can't put it into words, but after we started kissing, I literally took my top off and removed my bra. I remember seeing his face. He just fell back on the bed as if he couldn't believe this was happening, but we got together a couple of times that night.
We woke up the next morning and made a few jokes about how quickly we had slept together. We agreed to call each other, but we didn't. I remember asking my friend how he was and she said he was good and asked if we were going to meet again. I said probably not. I liked him, I really did, but it just didn't feel right.
We spoke again when an older journalist I knew from his workplace died and I contacted John on Facebook about it. We got talking and decided to meet up again.
At the Crazy Horse strip club.
The reason we went there is because I was at art school and I was drawing strippers as Lady Justice, and I wanted to get some ideas for poses. He was a guy and I figured he wouldn't object to going to a strip club, so we went there. I've been to the Crazy Horse a couple of times to look at the poses of strippers, and I always talk to the strippers, but I am yet to meet one who is willing to have a philosophical conversation with me about publicly taking their clothes off for the pleasure of men. Actually, most of the strippers I've talked to pretend to be lesbians because they want me to buy a lap dance, which I've never done.
We left the Crazy Horse and went to the casino, where we started kissing, and that eventually led us back to his house. I stayed the night and the next morning there was a knock on his window and this young kid yelled out, "Dad, let me in." John jumped out of bed, put his index finger over his lips and laughed as he told me to keep quiet. His son had left something for school at the house and his mother had brought him there to pick it up. John has three children with his ex-wife.
John and I met up countless times after that. Most of the times we met in town, we met at the casino, where he loved to lose his money. We had a few nights at his house, and I remember one night we smoked marijuana before we had sex, which I know some people like to do. I don't really see any benefits to it because it literally just makes me laugh and laugh and laugh. That was the last time I ever had a joint, and I will never have another one again.
I started to see John as a potential partner. I even wrote to every local council in South Australia and asked them if they referred to the public toilets in their jurisdiction as "the John." I got some hilarious responses, and I think the staff at the councils enjoyed that one, but I never gave them to John because we finished our casual relationship before all the responses came in.
I asked him if he would ever have any more children and he said no. He also said that he had been neutered.
John and I went through stages. At first, I think I was too keen, then I lost interest a bit and he became keener. Eventually we drifted apart, but back then I never thought in a million years that he would be the last man I was ever with.
I honestly think he might have been my final hurrah.
He had a few qualities which made me resent him a little bit, but the truth is that he was a beautiful soul. I've seen on Facebook that he has a partner now, as I imagine he would 13 years on, and I hope he is happy and in good health.
It's 4:34am and I am counting down the minutes until 5:00am. I shouldn't be wishing away time like this, but for some reason 5:00am makes me feel like the long, dark night is over.
Every day that passes is a day closer to my 45th birthday. I don't really know how I feel about it. If you asked me if I was happy with my life at the moment, I would say yes, I am. I feel I am on the right path to gaining some sort of meaningful employment, I've got study plans and I've got my mother. From a more practical point of view, I also have somewhere to live and I have a little bit of money.
But all of that could change in a heartbeat, and I know at some point it will. My brother is big on presenting reality to me, and he keeps asking me what I'm going to do when my mother is gone. I don't want to think about it, so I haven't made any plans, but I am forcing myself to get a job because I know that will make things a lot easier on so many levels.
I've also spoken to Rebecca and I outright asked her, should my circumstances change and I need somewhere to live, can I live with you for a year and pay you rent? She said yes, and I can't tell you how secure that made me feel. At least I know I've got an extra year to sort myself out.
With potential employment coming up, I've had to change my study plans again. I've applied to re-enrol in the Bachelor of Journalism, which is online, but sometimes I think I should just give up on university. I've tried so many times to get a degree, and I either want to go back to work, lose interest, or something happens.
If someone asked me what I really want to do, I would say the Bachelor of Fine Arts because I am a conceptual artist. But while I'm working and looking after Mum, I cannot afford to go to uni four days a week. The Bachelor of Journalism will be good because it will give me credentials to have some articles published somewhere, but the Bachelor of Fine Arts teaches all the things I wish I knew. Ceramics, photography, glass, sculpture, drawing, painting. I took for granted all that time I wasted when I could have been studying fine art.
I don't actually know why I feel I need a degree. I think I have it in my mind that if I want to emigrate to another country, I will need a degree. Whether that is true or not, I don't know, but it's always been in my head that life is so much better with a degree. Any degree. I go through stages where I question it, but it is true that having a degree makes employment a lot easier, so I will probably pursue journalism.
Life is going to be different for me when I turn 45. I've got an appointment with a trainer and I am going to take a year out of my life to get fit and healthy. I'm not looking for any quick fixes to lose weight. I am going to do it properly and consistently over a year.
I've got my letters, which I am going to continue with the passion and dedication they deserve. I've got my mother, and I am going to revolve my life around her while I still try to build something for myself and my own future.
I'm also going to stop having cheap and nasty conversations with men I barely know. I've only done it twice in 13 years, but I think I can do better than that.
So, things are a little messy while I wait for jobs and study, but I feel that with 45 looming over my head, things will come together soon enough.
