All posts filed under: dating

relationships, online dating, raising a teenager, over 50, positive ageing

Is it a pothole or cliff? Measuring the drama of your argument

Main Attachment styles: Anxious, Avoidant, Secure Most regular readers know I had a Bumpy time with ‘H’ on the last interstate visit, and you were all so supportive and encouraging, many thanks. Long distance relationships can be a challenge indeed. It took a lot of patience not to have an immediate, dramatic reaction myself, and now that we’re all snuggly and cute again [phew!], I’ve been reflecting on how it felt as it happened. As I previously wrote HERE on ‘Bread & butter vs death’, there is a biological reaction to that disagreement with your beloved. Once triggered, your attachment system will flood you with the stress hormones adrenaline and cortisol. It takes approximately 20 minutes for your body to process and dilute these chemicals to return to normal, (a little longer for men), so going for a walk or taking ‘time out’ is actually a fantastic idea. But what’s actually caused the triggering? In a nutshell, a serious argument is received as a threat to our safety. I’m not talking about the simple ‘bread & butter’ …

“Roses are red/Violets are blue/Online romance update:/I’m so glad that I met you”

Dearest H- I know you love these ‘Cinnamon Sweetie’ buns, dontcha? If I’d met you at a party somewhere, I’d have seen that you too wore a thin but effective layer of protection, like a brown paper bag. I’d have noticed it was fragile, yet also strong. I’d have wondered what hid inside. But now I know. Or rather, I’ve begun to discover. And thus we continue to unravel each other, past the thin edges, sometimes a bit burnt, or a little brittle. Circling round, through the spices and sugar, with the odd grain of salt. Spiralling closer, moving deeper in. Slowly but surely, just like a Snail likes. 1 more sleep; see you at the airport xx [The story so far: Met online. Emailed and sent comics & stories back and forth for 3 months Texted, but no phone calls (although we did send various selfies) Met outside Flinders St train station in Melbourne, Dec 21 Have been flying to see each other approx once a month ever since, for 5-6 days The longest gap …

Long distance relationships Part 2: ‘Am I in a catapult?’

The thread between us HERE Part 1 regularly stretches 1600kms. Then it reached 17,000kms while I went to France and the UK. It spiralled in and relaxed on itself while we curled together in my home & wooden bed; now our 5-day date is over, and the 1600kms are back. Plus an extra 1000 as I’ve been flown up to tropical Cairns to walk on stilts for a weekend festival. I’m feeling a bit wobbly from all the movement, all the to-ing and fro-ing. From all the fantasizing about the next long date to come (late Sept), and various future possibilities we’re both curious about (“One of my best friends lives a couple of hours drive away from you- perhaps I could spend 6 months staying there/Maybe we could both move to the same city next year, or the year after…”)? Being in love is delicious, intoxicating, and addictive! Hearts swell like the cherry tomatoes in my garden; minds expand; souls dance. Energies entwine like pumpkin vines, sprouting determinedly wherever they can, winding themselves tightly. …

1 more sleep till we leap

I’m so excited I can barely work, nor compose blog posts. But a dear reader just sent me a link to Elephant Journal, and this extract says it way better than I can right now: “We’ve all heard the quote, “Can’t live with them. Can’t live without them.” True love for me is the opposite of this saying. We know that we love someone when we can live with them and we can live without them. There’s something about love that overcomes distance and space…” “When we love, we feel an astounding sense of safety. We allow this person to challenge us, to help us give birth to the best version of ourselves. And this evokes a happiness that we can’t easily measure…  Love is a series of leaps of faith. We jump, knowing that not doing so will leave us with pain and regret. And with every leap, we trust that we will not fall.”   Safe travels H, and see you at the airport xxx  

Long distance relationships Part 1: stretching the thread

Have you ever gone out with someone from across the state? Or what about in a different country altogether? My love and I are spending 6 weeks apart. That’s 42 sleeps. Which includes one of us travelling 17,000 kms away, to France and the UK. It doesn’t seem like much really, in the overall timetable of a Life… Except it also feels like FOREVER. Perhaps you live with someone already? Then imagine not seeing, smelling, touching, hearing nor tasting them for 6 weeks. Not good huh? Similar to missing your children too I guess; I always miss my tall, smelly, hairy, smartypants son like crazy, even though I know I have to ‘be cool’, letting him spread his wings and fly. But I don’t want to be like that with a special new lover. I want to dive in then wallow, spending days in heavy-lidded bliss. Spending hours talking, revealing, learning, wondering, sharing. To proclaim difference, and delight in the similar. To explore cafes, cuisines, cuddles and values. To get shamelessly high on endorphins, oxytocin, …

What was my 51st birthday present, you’re wondering?

I waited 3 weeks, carrying it with me from Australia to France, under instructions not to open it. So at last the moment came, at 1am on birthday morning in my cute orange tent under the walnut trees (which was absolutely my birthday good and proper in Oz)! It was a 2nd hand book. A kid’s book. A classic, nostalgia-filled, heart-warming kid’s book, which sat on every single bookcase in Australia (and America? Did you have one?). Except… H ripped out all the pages. So I got the cover: And then I got the inside cover, where clumsy young fingers would proudly print their names: Then as you can see from the chickens, it all went a bit rogue and unpredictable! And that’s because dearest H is the most amazing collage/graphic artist, and spent hours making me a unique record and interpretation of our dating journey, from the first cheeky email in October, to the meeting under the Flinders St clocks in Melbourne just before Xmas, and so on and so on and so on. …

‘We can’t let you keep the hamster. It’s too dangerous.’

And with that, Lulu my best friend was taken away forever. Prised from my soft 6-year old hands, holding tightly to her special travel cage. I got one last glimpse of her ginger coat and black eyes before the security door slammed shut, and the full force of my tears and rage flooded me. Mum protested. ‘This is ridiculous! A hamster can’t have Rabies; she’s never even left the house, except for today.’ Met by an official silence, I wailed harder and louder, realizing it was the only power I had. Fellow ferry passengers tutted or shook their heads, while I screamed at the men in uniforms that I hated them AND their stupid country. So that was the beginning of my long-held, ongoing animosity towards England, small men in authority, and rules that can’t be bent or broken. I also think it was the birth of my Separation Anxiety. I said the first of many goodbyes to my beloved Dad that day, in ferry terminals, railway stations, and especially airports, as Mum and he …

Blissed lissed. Or blist list.

Gratitude means feeling like the luckiest woman in the world, and humbly saying thank you for: Airport greetings Slow-cooked dinner as soon as we walk in the door Warm, clean, safe home to sleep in Noisy, cheery tropical bird dawn chorus Tangerine sorbet skies behind palm trees out of the bedroom window Talking; listening; looking; holding. Resting. Remembering why we’re doing this. Beach walks Farmer’s Market fresh organic food, and bumping into friends A Swing Dance lesson on the sand Painting a teenager’s bedroom walls white as a surprise for when he comes back from his Dad’s Tasty snacks and peppermint tea Talking; listening; looking; holding. Resting. Remembering why. Quiet times: you do your thing, I’ll do mine Cat cuddles. Cat meows. Cat cuteness. And my favourite? Siestas in the soft winter sun