Archives for posts with tag: fun

It was my birthday last weekend.  Husband said he would take me out but as the day got nearer, he started making noises about the cost so I said he didn’t have to bother.  I want him to want to be with me, not be with me out of tradition or duty.

And so I made other plans, lots of other plans with people who did want to be with me.  I went dancing, I had afternoon tea, I did some more dancing, I went for drinks.  I had a great time.

Husband worked all weekend.  I didn’t see him.  My counsellor says he has strong Narcissistic traits and although I resisted this, when I look back at what I write, I can understand her view.  Recently, I was saying how I didn’t feel that he saw me as a human being, that I felt like a shop mannequin would serve his purpose better than I could.  He blames me for everything, calls me selfish, wants the world to centre round him, makes me feel ashamed of being myself, gets verbally abusive and angry when I try to raise issues, criticises my friends and family, and so on… It’s his way or no way.  [sigh]

And after the weekend had passed, he didn’t even ask me what I’d done or whether I’d had a nice time.

And I didn’t even care that he didn’t care.

Because other people did.

And I’d had a lovely time.

Without him.


There are two MEs: Happy Me and Sad Me.

I often meet Happy Me but she’ll only occasionally come into my home.  She comes back with me but rarely steps over the threshold, although she often looks through the window, just to check I’m OK.  Sometimes she waits in the car for me, or she’ll be there when I turn a corner or stop at the traffic lights, or I’ll meet her at the gym or in a coffee shop or she’ll come to lunch with me and my friends.  She’s always there when I go dancing.  Life’s great when Happy Me’s around: she’s so positive; full of fun and laughter and ideas.  We have a fantastic time together.

The only problem is Sad Me often drags along with us, spoiling our fun.  Happy Me and I usually manage to shake her off, lose her in the crowd or just ignore her as she sits in the corner and sulks.  But sometimes she’s more persistent and no matter what we do, she’s still there, with her miserable face and her negative outlook.  She’s not frightened to come into my home.  She’s waiting on the doorstep when I get back from the fun times with Happy Me.  She pushes past me to get in first and she trails from room to room behind me, looking sour.

Happy Me and I are plotting to eliminate Sad Me for once and for all.

We’re going to bombard her with our happiness.

Until she can take no more.



Dance (Photo credit: Nuno Duarte)

I’ve been dancing with anothers tonight.

Husband won’t come dancing with me anymore and hasn’t done for over a year now, even though it was a hobby we started together and he used to enjoy.

I didn’t want to give it up – dancing is really good for you on so many levels: it’s exercise, it’s social, it’s fun, it allows you to express yourself through the music, it makes you laugh when you get it wrong, it makes you feel fantastic when you get it right.

Recently I’ve had the confidence to move up to the advanced class and, as a result, I’m getting to know the better dancers and am taking the opportunity to dance with them rather than heading in the opposite direction because I don’t think I can cope.  It’s a great feeling when you connect with someone through the music and your dancing styles match.  You forget about everything and get lost in the moment.  (It is of course not me in the photo, but this is what I feel like during a good dance!)

So I’ve had a lovely evening – dancing with anothers.


I asked husband to come dancing with me tonight.  I haven’t done that for a long time because he gets annoyed, but I know that if I don’t ask him, then at some point in the future, he will turn this round on me and say I exclude him.  Sometimes when I ask him, I don’t actually want him to come: it feels like my space and my life and my friends.  At other times I wish he would.

Of course, he didn’t come.  And tonight I was disappointed.

But when I thought about it, I decided he’d probably be shocked: shocked at how relaxed and uninhibited I am when I’m dancing as I always used to be quite self-conscious; at the ease with which I chat and laugh with people, many of whom I’ve known for over a year, whose names he has never heard because he doesn’t want to know anything about my new friends; at the way I dance, because I’m in the advanced class now and whilst I’m by no means brilliant, I can certainly give it a good go.  I used to be fairly quiet and live a bit in his shadow so I think he’d be surprised at my confidence.  Perhaps he imagines, rightly or wrongly, what my nights out are like, or perhaps he doesn’t even think about them.  Who knows?

Then, when he came in from his night out, drinking down the club, he had a go at me for having asked him, accusing me of playing some kind of game and saying this didn’t bode well for the future.

How can asking your husband to spend the evening with you, to share part of your life, be ‘some kind of game’?

The gulf widens.

It doesn’t bode well for the future.