All The Small Things

Thanks to the impatient commenter... whoever you may be... though I wonder what you are going to call yourself when the story is finished??

So, we had just completed our blindfolded bushwalking, and we then made our way back to camp to have our dinner - it wasn't bad, I'd rate the food an 8 out of 10, which for camp food is a pretty damn good score.

The people running the camp had a couple of neurotic rules about the food though. They would only allow like 5 people up at any time to be served, and they served every possible meal and snack outside - despite the subzero temperatures.

That night we played some more card games and got to know each other a bit better - NZ was fascinating, and we traversed some incredibly diverse subject matter. By this stage the girls had garnered that the younger police person did indeed have a family at home - weirdly, he never mentioned them. The six of us got along famously, which was good. I've been on camps where the leaders didn't get along, and

My beautiful friend adn I discussed this later on - we decided that it was a) pretty odd that he never mentioned his wife or his two children until he was pointedly asked and b) we wouldn't like it if our significant other didn't acknowledge our existence like that.

We didn't end up heading to bed until about 1am - NZ and I had a joke about what time we were getting up - 6.55 he was setting his clock for, he wanted me to set mine for 7 in case his didn't go off... say 6.55 with a NZ accent and I'm done for.

Accents do it for me, what can I say.

Sunday, the last day, dawned far far too early - but at least the hot water was working again. I had a really lovely long hot shower, then headed over for brekky (one of the two meals a day we were allowed to eat inside).

We were leaving at about 10.30, so there weren't any formal activities planned for the morning - the boys went out to play some ball games, and I headed out for a little while too. Then we realised that one of the boys was missing, along with a number of girls... and seeing as it was the boy that all the girls had been chasing all weekend, and who had been sprung with girls in his room the night before, Sez and I decided we better go find them.

And find them we did. They were in one of the bedrooms, just sitting on teh bed pulling the most bizarre faces.

We asked them what they were doing - and they said that they were tying lolly snakes into knots in their mouths. If you can do it, you're a good kisser. (So sayeth the 15 year olds!)

Would we like to try?

Now I never pass up an opportunity to test my pashing abilities, so I had a go.

Problem 1: The snakes they had were the cheap short ones.

We overcame this by stretching them out to regular snake size prior to putting them in our mouths.

Problem 2:

On my first attempt I made two vital errors. I tried to make the knot too tight, and I had stretched it too much, causing the snake to break.

This we rectified and I got it on the second attempt.

Therefore I am pleased to announce that (by teenager standards and testing) I am an EXCELLENT kisser. YAY me!!

Then we all piled onto the transports, and headed for home.

Saying goodbye, all of the leaders hugged one another - which was super nice and friendly etc, and much preferable to shaking hands like strangers.

I do hope that I'll have the chance to do it again sometime, and that I'll get to work with NZ and my beautiful girlfriend again - they are both amazing at what they do, and just really nice people.

The End.

Now I know that I have your attention...

This weekend I went on a long and winding journey to a place far far away, up in the mountains. 1000 meters above sea level, where the ice was lying in sheets on the ground, and the windows were permanently frosted, and the air sliced its way into my tender little lungs each time I laughed, which was often. So often.

I went on this journey with a beautiful girlfriend of mine from Sassville, and approximately thirty teeny boppers, as we were the leaders and they the reason for the trip. Why I sign on for these things is anyones guess, as from the outside it seems madness to choose to go away with thirty hormone charged mixed gender teen. But in reality, it makes you feel both old and young at the same time, it charges you up and clarifies your thinking and keeps you on your toes and brings you absolute and unadulterated joy, along with opportunities to do the most wonderful things.

Besides myself and my beautiful girlfriend there was also Sez, a much older younger person, who stayed with us in the grownups lodge.

So I was on a coach with half of our charges, and we arrived at the next-town-along to pick up the rest of our chillins, as well as the leaders that that town had supplied. There was a young man who I would describe as Rather Cute, who had only just moved to town. He was from NZ, and had the most awesome and excellent accent (as you would imagine). His smile lit up the room, and he had the most gentle and sweet tempered nature - he spent so much extra time with the kids playing games out of hours and just having a ball. We shall call him NZ, for obvious reasons.

The other two adults were of the boys-in-blue variety (and Mrs. Macca will be interested to know that one of them (the youngen) knew and worked with both Dickhead D, and Stupid S, at the station in the Big Town We Grew Up In and disliked them both intensely!). There was an older one, who was married with kids just a little younger than me, and a younger one, who was pretty cute too.

My beautiful girlfriend and Sez decided on Friday evening that the younger one and I would make a good pair. They made loud conversation about how they were going to make sure we ended up in the same group, how cute they thought he was, and basically just behaving in a quite juvenile manner... much like our young charges, who had immediately decended into discussions about which of hte boys were cute and who should go out with whom...

I said that I thought he was probably married with children (although he wasn't wearing a ring, they pointed out) and they could keep their silly plots to themselves, as I was still not sure about where I was at with the whole BB thing, and could they please keep their everloving voices down as the walls were paper paper thin.

My beautiful friend told me that I was pathetic for wasting my time thinking about BB. Sez agreed. They then continued to bag me out, at volume.

*Sigh* Friends like these etc.

Each night we elderly folks gathered around our kitchen table and played some cards, ate some choccy biscuits and laughed our heads off. The three guys were absolutely hilarious, and although the stories wouldn't be nearly so funny in the retelling, during the evenings there was snorting, stomach cramps and spitting of beverages we were laughing so hard. Poor NZ made us crack up without even trying, "Kin you piss the tittys?" being a particular favourite, and becoming a running joke in the room... He wanted the Teddy Bear biscuits incidentally.

Getting up in the morning on the first day was an absoute treat, as the hot water service had died at some point during the night, and I got to have a cold shower with zero pressure - considering the sub zero temps outside, this did not fill me with joy.

Adding to our climate issues was the managements decision to limit the thermostat on the heaters, by pop rivetting a plate over the dial so that it wouldn't go higher than half way. They also took the rather extreme measure of entering the lodges while we were away... goldilocks style... and putting the dial to low. Bastards.

After discovering that this had happened no less than four times, I went and had a little chat with them. They didn't do it again, and my beautiful friend told me that they were scared of me. LOL - I have trouble believing that, cos I'm quite soft really and didn't really yell at them - I just requested firmly that they stop doing what they'd been doing. I didn't even yell at them - perhaps I should have. Perhaps next time I'll pack a tool set adn remove their damn rivets. HA! Cop that you heat nazi's.

So our first activity of the day had us doing various high ropes activities, and sporting some of these:

Which as you can imagine, was a pretty hot look over my six layers of clothing. The young ladies of the group were not impressed with what it did for their butts - kids these days have the most crazy silly idea of what they look like. Honestly, if I heard "I'm so fat" coming out of the mouth of one more stick insect I was going to scream, make a coffee and eat some more cake - in that order.

We did this:

Where I managed to get on top of 9 crates, beating NZ by one. Yay! LOL (We were using milk crates though, so it was higher than the photo)

We then went on to do some blindfolded bushwalking, which was quite hilarious to watch.

*************Chapter Break********************

 

(I'm knackered, adn going to bed right now. I think I'm already asleep actually!)

 

 

Sometimes this site has cards that are so right for the moment... they capture exactly what you are thinking or feeling.

Perhaps thats why its so popular? Because it makes you feel a little less alone, a little less unique in your fear, pain, wanting or even joy.

 

I guess this is what I was trying to say to BB.

I want to be good enough to love.

I AM GOOD ENOUGH TO LOVE.

 

And if he can't give me the love, then I don't want the f*ck either.

Its a package deal from now on.

So tonight BB came over for dinner with Nicky and I.

I asked him over so that we could discuss the events of the weekend, as we went out to a social event together on Friday night with some other friends, and wound up spending the night at the pub afterwards, into the wee small hours of the morning.

One thing led to another drunken thing on the way home, and I ended up staying at his place. Then in the morning, sober conversations and the joy of being together again led to more activities of an excellent kind, and we ended up spending half the day in bed before heading to the pub for lunch together.

I headed from there out with some girlfriends, and later that night went back to the pub as there was a band playing. BB met me there, and we ended up spending most of the time there hanging out just the two of us, playing some pool and just chatting.

He left before I did, and kissed me goodbye.

Confusing.

We'd discussed perhaps just having an arrangement... after all, its so excellent and amazing when we are together that it seems silly not to just go at each other occasionally...

 

But you know what? I couldn't do it. I thought about it and thought about it. And I can't do it. I deserve better than that. I should be with someone who wants to go out with me, to give our relationship a name and a value and show the world that they are pleased to be with me. I don't want to be BB's friend with benefits - it feels cheap. What we had before wasn't cheap, and even though I though that the only thing that we were missing now was the sex, I was wrong. There is something else. There's the being together and being able to be proud of that relationship. I want that.

So I invited BB around for dinner so that we could discuss it, and we have agreed to go back to friends (no benefits). He wasn't comfortable with the agreement we had made either, so it was a pretty easy conversation - which is one of those wonderful / awful things about BB.

We are able to talk about everything and anything, be completely honest about our feelings, and its brilliant. Being close to him is just... right. Everything works. Its easy.

And agreeing to not be with him is just awful and hard and yuck.

Maybe I'm not as strong a person as I thought I was.

I don't know if I can handle being this close to BB as his friend, and not think about what it would be like to be in a deeper relationship with him.

And this wanting is making me ache in my heart.

Sitting right next to him on the couch and not being able to reach out and touch him is awful. And that isn't about sex, its about caring and wanting to connect with him.

So when he hugs me goodnight it breaks my heart, because its everything I want, and yet at the same time, nowhere near enough.

Eight Random Facts About Me:

1. I talk to myself A LOT and sing around the house at the top of my lungs.

2. I rarely go to bed before 2am.

3. I can't bear injustice, and will pick fights with random strangers if I see them behaving badly.

4. I am a complete pool shark. Last week, I won $28 at the pub. The week before, it was $20. I was the only girl playing, and both times I beat the publican and the barstaff, and a bunch of other patrons.

5. I am increasingly interested in clothing, but I only started shopping solo in the last couple of years. (I am 27)

6. If I had the money, I would buy back my first car immediately.

7. I would love to be a surrogate mother.

8. I love the feeling that I get when I fix something myself. Preferably with powertools.

 

So I've been tagged by Aly. I have accordingly posted the rules, and I am going to cheat a little bit, in that I don't really know 8 bloggers who I could tag. So instead, I'm going to post my preferred tag-ee's here, and if you wish to participate, you can email me and I'll stick it up for you as a post, seeings as you don't have a blog.

Sponky (who does have a blog, but may not like being tagged... I seem to remember an anti-meme post?) Mrs. Macca, CK, The Groomsman, and Jobe. Anyone else who wishes to participate just let me know.

 

1. Let others know who tagged you.
2. Players start with 8 random facts about themselves.
3. Those who are tagged should post these rules and their 8 random facts.
4. Players should tag 8 other people and notify them they have been tagged.

 

 

I love post secret.

www.postsecret.com

How calm and collected was I when I wrote that last entry!

Not feeling quite so calm today - feeling extremely toey, slightly irritable, and very confused.

So really, what has changed?

We're friends.

We talk about all the same stuff that we always talked about.

We hang out, just like we always did.

We talk on the phone, just like we always did.

 

The only thing we aren't doing is HAVING THE SEX.

I miss that.

DEAR GOD I MISS THAT.

 

Particularly when he makes comments about how much of an excellence that part of our relationship was, and how he thinks about it (and you know I'm thinking about it too... I'm just thanking the lord that its winter and he's got his sexy arms covered up with his bulky jumpers so that I don't go completely insane.)... you can see how this is messing with my head.

 

So, in closing...

 

AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

But I am remaining the ever solid, very reliable, no sooking, not-taking-advantage-of-BB, FRIEND.

I deserve a bloody medal for keeping my hormones in check.

AT LEAST.

No pomp, no ceremony. No acrimony. No blame. No surprise. A few tears, hot and slow, not bitter, not petulant, just seeping. On both sides. No desire to harm, nor ability to comfort. On either side. No relief, no release. It is as it is.

BB has been having a much much tougher time of it within himself lately, and we've been doing lots and lots of talking. Rather, he's been doing lots of talking, and I've been listening. Listening and wrestling with a feeling that this is bigger than we are able to handle alone. That listening isn't enough, its a start, and its important, but it isn't enough.

He's starting to realise that sometimes, no matter how much we want to, we can't do things alone. He's starting a journey back to wellness, which is a good thing, but a private thing, and so I won't be writing about his journey here.

However, I am going to be with him along his way - but only in the capacity of friend and confidant.

BB doesn't have friends like I do.

I am reminded in these moments of how incredibly lucky I am to have the people in my life that I do - people who love me and whom I love. People who know me. People that I could call up in the middle of the day, or night for that matter, and spill my heart to with complete honesty, and know that they would be there for me. That they would come and support me if I needed them to. That I can trust to honour my feelings, to respect my thoughts, and to listen to me without judgement. To give me a hug, when I am at my lowest. To help me through the tough times.

He doesn't have that. He has me, and I am only one. His family would be there, but he doesn't know how to let them be - and one cannot practice the drill when the building is alight.

I've made the decision that I am going to be his friend through this time, and that I will be there for him while he walks this road. He's accepted that offer, and we are building on our friendship. It isn't easy. I want to reach out and touch him. I want to comfort him. But I will sit and listen and be his friend, because I care for him, and thats what he needs right now.

It would be silly and untrue of me to say that I don't hope that there is some kind of future for BB and I.

I enjoy his company so much, and his humour, and his conversation, and everything about him really, that I don't want to give that up.

But in my heart of hearts, I don't know that anyone would want to have a romantic relationship with a person with whom they had shared the experiences that BB and I are sharing.

I don't know that I'll be interested in re-kindling that sort of relationship with BB once this is over. Or perhaps this will cement our friendship into the solid foundations of something bigger than either of us had thought we were capable of. Who knows.

What I do know is that I care enough about BB as a person to be there for him through this time, and that I'm OK with this as it is, as it was, and that however this turns out, it too will be OK.

I'm not crying myself to sleep over this breakup. I'm not fretting over it.

I'm not really even terribly upset about the whole thing - no angsty poetry, no weepiness, no drunken rages, no conversations in my head about how silly he was to break up with me.

He did exactly the right thing - for both me and him - and if he hadn't done it, I would have. But if I had had to, it would have caused more damage. In an odd kind of way, it was perfect.

I feel calm and at peace, and like this is the way that it needs to be, and aught to be, and that everything is right with the world.

Clearly, BB isn't alright at the moment, but he will be.

And whether our relationship remains as a friendship, or blossoms again into something more, or withers away to fond memories and lessons learnt, then it will still be a relationship that I've been pleased to have had, and that I do not regret a second of.

BB has taught me what it feels like to be in a truly honest, truly caring, truly mature relationship.

I feel grateful for that, and blessed to have known it.

MEN VISITING THE SITE, PLEASE HIT THE SURVEY ---> THANKS HEAPS!

 

I'm beginning to wonder if BB is officially the oddest bloke I've ever dated, or if I am just used to dating odd blokes and the normality of this situation is weirding me out because I'M odd.

But then I look back on the numerous conversations that BB and I have had over the last months, and I know that I am the normal one here, and he is the scarred and damaged one.

(Yes, you can re-read that, it wasn't a misprint. Its true. Scary, but true.)

BB has some pretty serious issues, shall we say. Some shitty things have been done to him by the woman that he thought that he would spend the rest of his life with, and that whole situation is being sorted out at the moment. He has some emotional refuse from that situation hanging with him still, but because he acknowledges the issues he's dealing with, has sought help where appropriate, and is willing to talk openly about how he is feeling, I'm ok with him having issues. It would be remiss of me to try to get him to pretend that he doesn't have any issues. He has to work through these things, and the only way to do that is to DO that.

I try to be a supportive girlfriend, you know. I'm a good listener, and I listen to him. For the most part, I just let him say what he needs to say, and reflect back to him what I'm hearing. If he asks for it, I try to give constructive advice - offer a baby step type approach to moving forward. Ask him what he thinks he could do to overcome a certain problem for example, or tell him what I did when I was in a similar situation.

I'm there for him, as trite as that sounds.

 

Which is why I'm feeling slightly peevish this week, the first week of the school holidays.

I hate the school holidays with a passion usually reserved only for the cat across the road that craps in the garden under my bedroom window.

My beautiful Nicky has to go to Mr. D's for the holidays, and I don't get to see her for the whole two weeks - which sucks. Bigtime.

Now, dear BB has an attack of the blues whenever his children go to their mothers for the weekend - he hates being in the house alone, and he just doesn't cope well with that whole thing. We've talked about it lots and lots - I used to be the same way when Nicky wasn't with me, I'd spend hours and hours and hours at work, or at the pub, or anywhere else but here. The difference between having her little self asleep in the room next door, and her not being in the house at all was profound. Its horrible. Its unsettling. Its lonely. Its just the most revolting thing. I really really miss her. Its like losing a limb almost. There's this gaping empty hurting hole in your life.

So I would have thought that BB would have had some empathy for how I would be feeling over these two weeks, and made the effort to see me a little bit. But he hasn't.

And despite knowing that he's sick, (he's deep into week three of what I'm sure is more than the flu, but he won't take time off work to go to the doctors) and that he's doing rediculous hours for the first three days of this week in order to take time off in the last two days, I am a bit miffed that he hasn't seen his way clear to... well... see me.

The worst part is that he's having the last two days of the week off to care for his children, (which is a fantastic example of what an incredibly awesome and devoted father he is) but ten to one he won't include me in whatever they are doing - he'll spend the time one on one with them.

It isn't that I grude him spending the time with his kids, or the time at work. I really respect him for working so hard so that he can have the time to be with his kids - lots of parents wouldn't do that, particularly when they were ill.

But surely it isn't too much to ask to be included somewhere in there? Dinner after work maybe. Sleeping over one night. A picnic lunch on one of the days with his kids. Something. Anything.

I always thought that if you care for someone, then you make room for them in your life.

I guess I've never dated anyone with kids before, so there is some getting used-to to do there. And it is a major adjustment - I've only ever dated really keen blokes who wanted to spend oodles of time with me... too much time in lots of cases. I know from my own experience that you can't spend as much time with someone when you have a child to care for - I'm not saying that he should give up time with his kids, and I would never ask him to do that.

(If he asked me to give up time with Nicky I'd tell him to take a running jump)

What I do want is for the person that I am with to value the time that we spend together highly enough to make it a priority. I want to be towards the top of their list.

Do you think that that is a reasonable thing to ask?