Etiquette

So I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about blogging – I know, sad isn’t it?

On my last post, I answered the comments that had been left. You know, individual replies for each comment. I never normally do that because I feel most of the posts I write are a record of what has happened to me or how I am feeling about a personal situation. Once I have published it is done – nothing more to say. Of course, I love reading the comments that are then left, which advise or sympathise or offer another way of thinking about things. But I have rarely replied apart from the odd general message of thanks for all the comments left.

This time I did though, and actually the process of doing that helped me a lot. It made me think about my situation a lot more. I do try and write honestly but actually the introspection needed to reply, helps all the more. It wasn’t easy though. …

I leave comments on blogs that I read where authors don’t respond back and that is fine – I don’t mind at all. But then, on other blogs, I leave comments where I do get an individual reply which I have to admit, makes me feel that what I’ve said was valued and appreciated.

So what I want to know is, what is the etiquette here? Is it rude not to leave answers to comments that readers have taken the time to write or is it quite acceptable?

Just so it is clear, I’m inviting answers so comments would be gratefully appreciated. Whether I answer or not though remains to be seen …..!!!

Trying To Talk

I’ve seen a lot of Matt since I went back to his flat from work that afternoon which explains why I haven't been blogging much or doing anything else much because I seem to be with him all the time. I haven’t felt good about it though.

The sex has been very urgent and he doesn’t let me leave easily without promising when I’ll be back and he texts and emails me all the time telling me how glad he is that I’m back and what he wants to do to me next time we're together. The thing is, however much I enjoy myself physically when I’m with him, I’m cross with myself for finding myself back here and I’m cross with Matt for being so smug about getting me back in his bed.

I tried to tell him this yesterday evening. In fact, before I got there, I told him I wanted to talk. We haven’t really done much talking since this all started back up again which I guess, is another reason I have felt a bit cheap.

When I got to his flat, we sat at his little table, which I don’t think we’ve ever done before. He poured out some wine and there were cigarettes next to the bottle. I don’t smoke and I wasn’t aware that he did so I asked what they were doing there and he said he suspected I was about to dump him again and so they were there to help him through the rest of the evening…even though he gave up years ago.

He’s very good at those disarming techniques. I almost decided against saying anything then but it was the smile playing around the corner of his mouth that made me realise that I couldn't let him play me.

I told him I wasn’t happy about the way things had just reverted to the way they were. That it wasn’t what I wanted and that I thought I had explained that in my email which I now felt he hadn’t read or taken any notice of at all. A discussion ensued where he pretty much said he had read my email but actually it didn’t matter because he was more concerned with where we were now and that he knew I wanted him as much as he wanted me so why was I making a big deal of something we were both enjoying. He said that actually he had shown me huge respect by staying away for so long, even though he had never stopped thinking of me – that he had dreamt about me at night and during the day until he had made a decision that he wasn’t going to carry on feeling like that if there was a chance that I wanted him back.

I felt we were getting nowhere fast because I didn't think he was hearing me, and then his phone rang. It was clearly a work call and not one he was pleased about. He paced up and down the hall and I could hear him shouting at whoever it was that they were completely incompetent. I was quite shocked, as in all the time I’ve known him I’ve never seen him angry. I picked up my keys and went over to the window and looked out at the amazing views from his eighth floor flat, as the sunset cast a fiery red glow over the river and the fields.

He came back clearly pissed off and not particularly happy to see me with my keys and my bag, ready to go.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to leave…..” but I hadn’t finished my sentence when he was by my side and had grabbed my arms.
“You’re not going anywhere Selina. I’m not going to let you leave me again. Can’t you hear what I’m saying to you? I’m completely obsessed, OK? I need you in my life.”

And then he was kissing me and the sex that followed was like nothing I’ve ever experienced with him. He was very rough with me, overpowering and almost forceful but still so full of passion that he took my breath away, literally!

Afterwards he was very gentle again.
"Please don't leave me Selina."

How can I? I feel trapped in his web of desire but actually, I don't want to make the effort to try and break free.

Happy Anniversary !

Today it’s a year since I started writing this blog.

It doesn’t seem like twelve months since I made the decision to embark on an online journal. Then, I thought it would be a good idea as I was having major issues about my age which I felt I needed to write down in a bid to get to the bottom of it all. Events took a turn almost as soon as I started writing it though and it has since turned into somewhat of a confessional, but still therapeutic.

I always thought I just wanted to write and not become part of some blogging community as I didn’t think that was me. But over the year that is exactly what has happened and I wouldn’t be without my cyber acquaintances – no dammit, friends in fact.

I usually try not to write with a view to being read but that doesn't mean that I don't enjoy that that lovely feeling of noticing a new comment at the end of a post. And the comments are always so nice - never judgemental even though I always expect them to be. In the last week or so, they have been so supportive and have helped in a way I never expected they could, so a big thank you to all who have taken time out, now and in the past.

It's been an interesting year. Soon after I started writing I came across John’s blog and he actually inspired me to write as honestly as possible because that’s what he did and it made for fascinating reading. He doesn’t seem to keep us updated so much these days but I still look out eagerly for new posts from him.

And then there’s Priscilla. I signed into my blog one day to find I had a second follower and I remember being soooo excited. I eagerly linked into her blog to find some very saucy, erotic writing. It made me blush ….. but I haven’t been able to stop visiting! I read it when no one else is around - my guilty secret – although she hasn’t posted for ages so I hope all is well.

I also love to read all the yummy mummy blogs – some who live so far away that they give me a completely different taste of life. They all make me remember, and sometimes yearn for, the time when my teenagers were tiny and the funny little things they did. It makes me appreciate them so much more when I look at how they have grown up into lovely young people that are a real source of pride to me.

Many have become friends who I correspond with beyond the blog on email and with some I have really opened up to in a way I just can’t with people in real life. That correspondence has been as therapeutic as the blog and I really value it.

There are some posts that are published by fantastic writers, Ian and Meggie to name but two, and I often visit them before I sign into my own blog as they always make me think for the day.

Lately too, there has been Steve, another great writer whose posts I really enjoy and who seems to be the wisest, cleverest man around and who always comments on what I write which I find such a huge compliment.

My French has improved big time over the last few months thanks to Georges. He writes in English as well and again he tells his story honestly and from the heart.

There are so many others as well but time is against me. However, I have to mention the youngsters like Decoybetty - she makes me laugh with her observations - and blogs with great photographs such as The Sagittarian who is leading me into very bad habits with her Tuesday tipple.

Have a look at them if you can. But in the meantime thank you to all who read me and who give me the pleasure of letting me read them.

Here’s to the next year!

The Funeral

Yesterday was Sean's funeral.

I went with Ewan. Nancy was there with her husband Will, as they are back together again, but she didn't say much as she's still not very well. She didn't look too good and at one pont she had to leave the service for a bit. I think it has hit her very hard and she was very tearful.
Dave was there with Zoe, his wife, and he brought his three girls along as well as they adored their Uncle Sean and he loved them all too.
And Ed was there. He arrived alone late, only seconds before the coffin entered and as he joined us, he announced that Carolyn gave birth to a baby boy earlier in the morning. It can't have looked good that we were all beaming as Sean was carried in but my smiles soon dissolved into tears as I watched his mother following the coffin, wth Jenny holding her arm - clearly supporting her physically and emotionally.

It was a very moving service. The church was packed and Sean's band led the music.
Jenny spoke of how lucky she was to have known him even for so short a time and that she knew she would never love anyone like that again. She said she didn't feel cheated but blessed and that set me off again.
Ed spoke about his very good friend and relayed a few amusing stories about Sean in that way that only he can, but his voice cracked towards the end as he told the congregation that he and Carolyn had decided the only name for their new baby son was .....Sean.
And as the coffin was caried away, his mum broke down completely and none of us could hold back the tears.

For me, the hardest thing was seeing him lowered into the ground. The finality of that was too much and I'm sure if Ewan hadn't been holding me up, I would have collapsed.

My dear friend has gone and I never told him just how special he was. I hope he knew.

I'll never forget him

Weakness

I thought I would go back to work yesterday to give myself something to do and take my mind off everything but I was pretty useless when I was there. I couldn't really focus or get down to what I should be doing and spent most of my time just looking out of the window, remembering various things about Sean.

For example, I remember going to lunch with him once and he told me off for having my mobile on the table which I kept looking at. It was a busy time for me at work then I think, but actually he was right. It had always been a failing of mine that I always used to have it out and be fiddling with it. He told me I used it as a security blanket - a way of showing others that I was important ...and wanted. He was so right! Since then, it has always remained firmly in my bag - rarely taken out in company. He was right about so many other things too and never scared to tell me. That's one of the reasons why I loved him so much.

I don't know how many times my eyes welled up and I got that lump in my throat. It didn't matter what I did, I just couldn't stop thinking about him.

And then my phone beeped with a text. It was from Matt.
"Are you missing me as much as I'm missing you?"

I should have ignored it but I replied saying that I couldn't really answer because I had just had some bad news. He immediately called and again I shouldn't have picked up but I did and before I knew it I was crying down the phone and telling him about Sean. He told me he was sorry, really sorry and asked what he could do to help. I said nothing and then he asked if I wanted to go over to his - just to talk. I should have said no but of course, I didn't .....

I ended up spending the afternoon with him. In his bed. I hate myself for having no strength of character.

Grief

The funeral will be on Tuesday.

In the end, it was just Dave who came round yesterday. Nancy wasn't well and Ed's wife, Carolyn, is due any day now so he can't be too far from her.

I was right in assuming that Sean had told Jenny not to tell us anything so she thought it was just easier to cut off all contact. Dave spoke to her when she broke the news and he said she was in a really bad way. Even though she had been with him every day and watched him dying, it has still hit her hard. We're going to have to rally round her and look after her as Sean would have wanted.

Apparently, he was in a lot of pain in the last week or so and the morphine seemed to hardly help. He was pretty much out of it at the end but late on Sunday night, she looked up from her book and he was watching her. He motioned that he was thirsty and she gave him some water on a sponge. He smiled at her and mouthed the words "I really love you. Thank you". And then, he closed his eyes. He didn't open them again after that, and early on Tuesday he just slipped away.
I still can't believe he's gone. I feel so empty and I don’t know what to do with myself. I can't focus on anything and I don't really want to speak to anyone. My mind is just a mass of blank fuzz.

I don't know how I'll make it through the week or how I'll get through the funeral. I understand about closure and saying goodbye but that also means it will be so final and I'm not sure I'm ready for that.

The News I've Been Dreading

I had just got into work this morning and was dealing with some of my messages when Dave called me. As soon as I heard his voice, I suddenly wanted time to stand still. I knew what he was going to say and I couldn’t hear it - I wasn’t ready. I wanted to be able to run away somewhere so that I wouldn’t have to acknowledge his words.

But they still came and I still heard them:

“He’s gone Selina. Sean’s gone. He died early this morning. Jenny just called me.”

I could feel something bubbling up deep within me. I could feel it getting bigger and I could feel it travelling right from the very pit of me, through my stomach, past my heart and up my throat. I could feel the waves it was making inside of me and I almost had to hold on to my desk as it then burst through my mouth and suddenly I was sobbing down the phone.

I could hear Dave but I couldn’t speak.

“Selina! …….Selina! …..You need to go home. Stop whatever you’re doing and go home. I’ll pick up Nancy and Ed and we’ll join you there. Can you hear me Selina? Go home.”

So that’s what I did. I don’t really know how I made it back here. I can’t remember who I spoke to at work. I must have looked a right state as I emerged from the office with my face all blotchy and red.

Now I’m home and waiting for the others. I don’t know what we’ll all do. Just remember him, I guess.

I can’t believe he is dead.

I really thought it was going to be all right. I wanted to believe that he would go into remission and come out of that hospice laughing and announcing that he was back. I tried calling Jenny a few times but her phone was always off and she never returned my messages. I suspect that was on orders from Sean as none of us had heard anything since that last night we saw him. Why did he cut us off like that? Why did he die? He was so bloody young – my age for god’s sake. This time last year, we went to a gig to see him play in his band and now, he’s gone. How can that be?

I can’t take it all in – I’m devastated.