Love and Stuff

Had I stuck it out, it would have been my twelfth wedding anniversary today.  Maybe I jinxed it all by getting married on a Friday 13^th and caused Cupid's arrow to go astray ?

I’m feeling sad.  Not because of the anniversary, but because I had plans for the weekend and they have gone askew.  I was looking forward to some 'me time' and had planned to get my hair done today.  The idea of sitting in a hairdresser for 3 or 4 hours with nothing better to do than sup tea and read about ‘celebs’, although I don’t always know, or care who they are is the closest thing to heaven that I can think of right now.  I was looking forward to a ‘new-do’, a little make over to mark my 42^nd birthday the other day.  I was going dramatic.  Two-tone.  Dark at the roots and blonde at the bottom, channelling my Sarah Jessica Parker again.  It’s been so long since the ‘do was done, that I pretty much am two-tone already (albeit with a few grey streaks, as little woman just pointed out, as she read this over my shoulder, laughing her head off).

I’ll spend the weekend with the children.  We are all heading off on a sleep over later (even the dog).  New hair is not necessary for this occasion.  Wine is though.  Trucks of it.  It can be my catch-up birthday wine – the liquid stuff that many people referred to in messages on Facebook.  My Wednesday birthday was a sober affair in every sense and that needs to be sorted.

The children have already given me handmade birthday and Valentine’s cards.  The ones that flop on the mantelpiece and that I will keep in a box forever.  I’ll give them money later and let them loose in a euro shop to buy me a birthday present.  On second thoughts, I’ll bring them to a chemist instead, in the hope that they will buy something I will actually use.  At some stage they will see something that they fancy and ask if they can buy that instead. It's a wonder that the pair of them remembered my birthday at all, such was their excitement about Pancake Tuesday, or more specifically, that a jar of chocolate spread, usually considered as contraband, was purchased for the occassion. They ate the stuff for breakfast, dinner and tea and lamented over the empty jar.

Other than that, I can’t see myself being showered with Valentine’s Day gifts.  I already checked with the postman – there shall be no special weekend deliveries tomorrow.   Still, there is loads that a gal can do to make herself feel special on her birthday/Valentine’s week.  An extra squirt of perfume.  Lingering in the shower with fragrant Chanel soap for a companion.  A glut of blueberries and the biggest spoon of honey on my porridge.  Children getting ready for school ‘extra fast’ as a surprise.  A purchase from the 70% off Sales Rail in Shaw’s (Almost nationwide).  Wearing my bestest knickers midweek.  Writing blog ideas in my new embroidered notebook.  It goes without saying that a good streak of red lippy tops it all.

Since my new found singledom, I’ve been getting a lot of advice, some more helpful that the rest.  Sentences that start with ‘Do you know what you should do … ?’ are enough to make me glaze over.  I’ve also had plenty of advice on how to find a new man.  I’ve had the low down on Tinder, which quite frankly, scares the life out of me.  Someone recommended that I just need a ‘Booty Call’, or if you want to be really crude about it, ‘Dial-a-Ride’.  Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you blush, but I probably did that earlier when I mentioned knickers.  My lovely Mammy hoped that I might meet someone at an arts conference I was attending recently.  I smiled.  The attendees were 70% women, with a disproportionate percentage of gay men.  Damn, they dress well.  

Even my children have begun to ask me if I will get married again – A subject that I wouldn’t have thought would have entered their heads and one that I certainly wouldn’t have broached at this early stage.  My boy wants to know what kind of car Imaginary Man will drive.  (Audi or BMW apparently).  My girl wonders if I will have more babies.  Jaypurs, I may get my skates on, biological clock ticking like a time bomb now. I wonder how/when they think that I will meet someone, when they both have heart failure at the thought of me going on a night out ?

Right, I’m outta here.  The 70% Sales Rail awaits me.   Maybe I'll buy a hat to cover the hair.  Maybe Prince Charming will catch my eye at the till.

Happy Valentine’s lovely people.