commage a trois.

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isnt that strange, how the words that would sting you the most, will most probably come from somebody who you love more than anyone in the world?

had country racing yesterday. i was seated on a table in the commitee room, with ANZ farm bankers, next to John from Agriculture college, advertising execs, and Rural Press Publishing founder Ian who i thought was about 120 years old. He taught me how to read the form guide properly, and who, towards the end of the day, wore my name tag on his shirt and thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

it was a room full of Rupert Murdochs. but older. i had to target the oldest one who owned an agency on St Kilda Road, who manages Australian Unity, RSPCA, Nike etc… *ka-ching* Apart from the fact i couldnt understand a word that he said, i managed to drop in a line or two that in the coming new year, if ever he needs an advertising exec…here’s my card, oh yes it is an unusual last name, no im not French but the name is – such a long story – so glad to meet you yes, yes.

had a splitting headache after the 5th race, all the local white wine and Carlton Draft in the world wouldnt surpress – so it was a loooong day. Because i was with a client, i couldnt really relax entirely which was shtting me to tears, especially in the bus home when he went on and on about his home renovation and all the different toys his dog has, and its names.

Fukn painful. BUt it was fun to be out of the office on a 33 degree day. And i won 20dollars, and a bottle of Moet. Socks. A book. A pen. it was lovely.

i wouldnt even go through the details of what happened when i got home. it was too alcohol induced, too humid, too painful. it just shatters me, the thought of how inevitebly, your whole world revolves around one person. and how much expectation you put on that one person. D said i should lower them a bit, they’re too high, the boxes cant be ticked if i’ve set them too high.

thats true. but how do you start?

because all my life i’ve been disappointed by men. if someone asks me, now, if i have any male role models i’d smirk and let out a say wut now? Because there is not one person with a penis in my life prior this one, that i can honestly say i admire. or i trust. yep – thats the big one – trust. ok fine, i have father issues. mine went missing since Day One. the best way i dealt with that growing up was to make up stories about him to people – he’s a musician, he’s a traveller, he works on a ship in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. and the best way my mother dealt with it, when i asked why the kids at my school had daddies and i didn’t – was brush it off and do the same thing. he’s a musician. he’s a drunk. he’s travelling the world on a big ship with women who are whores.

sweet mother. and so subtle.

the ex cheated on me with a 19 year old when he went to Perth during our 11 month or something anniversary. the american, who swept me off my feet, left and never came back. roman and i grew up together and drifted apart – and that was cool. he left me unscathed. or i left him unscathed. it was all good.

but they’re the past. i see that and acknowledge it because im all for moving forward. and i never regret anything that i’ve done, because i tend to think im a little bit smarter from all of that. and stronger. so thats not a bad thing at all in my books.

but J. i know he’s the one. do i doubt that sometimes? Yes, because he’s a complicated person, he’s stubborn, he’s as strong-minded as me. when sht hits the fan sometimes and i wont back down, neither would he, and theres the clash right there. its like a battle of power or something. a battle of who holds sht down. and more often than not, its him. but my insides – when i know im wrong – my insides scream out im sorry, im sorry – but on the outside? im as cold as stone. im sorry, im sorry, but im not.

thats such a btch. thats such a fukd up attitude.

there are boxes now, to tick, when we meet people who we know could be the one. these boxes pop up after each failed relationship. subconsciously we realise what we dont like in people, what we want from people, what our needs are, what we can dispose of.

thats the thing about people. even though they’re gone from your life, or whether they werent there in the first place, they’re not disposable. there are things that stick around, that linger around you like cigarette smoke. the fear you’ve had, the people you’ve had – they have the habit of coming back.

2 comments

  1. Christopher says:

    okay, my blog wasn’t actually about you, but i guess if it helps you, then yeah, it was about you..

    i hope you’re okay baby, gimme a call whenever. i’ve been waiting for your freakin’ blog entry all day..

    love you.

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