Arrrraggggghhhh I'm moving in with a boy

Well it has been a while since I wrote a blog.  This I must assure you is not for want of trying but has been caused by a combination of settling into a new job, learning to drive, going on holiday, spending more time with the journalist (mentioned in previous blogs in the form of a press release), seeing friends and good old fashioned writers block (not ideal in my line of work). 

Time literally has flown and getting half hour to write about it all has proved near impossible but, here I am. I'm back and with some shocking news.  Something has happened that I never thought would happen and always felt I would try and avoid at all costs...... I'm moving in with a man.

I know most people probably want to read about how it is all super exciting, romantic and that I spend most of my days floating in a little bubble dreaming of how beautiful I can make the house look and evenings spent snuggled in front of an open fire, but the truth is I am crapping myself, absolutely crapping myself.

Now when I say that,  I am not actually concerned about living with the aforementioned journalist as we get on great and after 34 years avoiding living with males in a romantic sense it is obvious I am not the type of woman who throws herself willy nilly into these things so I must be quite sure about this one.

But, there are a few things that scare me:

Leaving  My Flat
I love my flat.  When I brought it nine years ago it was my way of marking my independence.  At the age of 25 I was incredibly proud of myself at having the ability to buy myself a place without assistance from anybody else (well except for all the furniture contributions which were gratefully received), no deposits from the bank of mum and dad and not having to buy with another person to get on the property ladder.

The flat holds many memories good and bad, (mainly good but not to be written about here, as many would incriminate myself and others in ways we don't wish or need to be incriminated in now that we are sensible adults with jobs/husbands/children etc). The place has seen some good times, lots of laughs, some tears, all night conversations, as heard plenty of putting the world to rights and witnessed many a glass of wine being drunk.  It has been home to blossoming romances, broken hearts and much more.  It may not be in an area I particularly want to live and it may not be super stylish, but it's mine, all mine.

My Friends & Social Life
Obviously I am aware that my friends will still be my friends and I am only moving an hour away but gone are the carefree after work drinks and midweek dinners which I enjoy so much.  Gone will be the days of deciding that dinner on a Tuesday will be a good idea (as this will require an hours commute from the office, followed by an hour home), not something I fancy doing, especially in winter.


Space
This might sound crazy as I am going from a one bed-roomed flat to a four bed-roomed house, but I don't mean physical space I mean my space. A lot of people reading this may wonder what I mean as I am a very sociable person, but I am sociable when I choose.  Sometimes I like to go home not answer the phone, not answer the door and just chill.  I am now going to be living with a journalist, a teenager and a dog not exactly conducive to chilling out.

But, for all my doubts I know my flat will still be there (albeit with somebody else living in it -although I am trying not to dwell on that) and am having nine of my girlie mates round for a leaving meal two days before I leave to ensure that I leave on a high.

The friends thing, it might actually mean we see each other more as we will have to plan more in advance and having a bigger house means more of them can come and stay at once.

The space thing I am having my own dressing room and there are plenty of rooms so that will give me a bit of space should I need it.

And finally for all my worries I know I am making one of the best decisions I have ever made and am just viewing it as the end of one phase and the start of a brilliant, new, amazing adventure.

Valentines day. Romantic. Really?

Valentines day what a pile of pants.  I guess you would assume from that statement  that I am not a romantic and in some ways you would be right.  I like romantic gestures as much as the next girl, but I prefer them to be spontaneous and to me Valentine's day is a little contrived.  Yes flowers, chocolates and meals I love them all but I prefer them out of the blue rather than because it is the 14th February  and we must show the world we are in love.

Valentine's Day to me is a little bit like Chris de Burgh singing Lady in Red,  in that people like it because it is perceived to be romantic but really it is the lazy man/womans choice of romantic sentiment.  In my mind the day is akin to forced fun the very fact that your been told that it is fun sort of ruins it a bit.  The same with the big day of love the very fact that I'm told it's romantic removes the romance.

Also I feel that these big decelarations of romance and love are wasted if they're not shown all year round.  I mean surely anybody can be nice and flash the cash one day of the year, but if the rest of the time is spent arguing it all seems a little pointless.

Another thing is the cash, myself and some mates were discussing this at the weekend.  If my boyfriend went out and spent £60 on a bunch of roses that usually cost £20 I would be furious.  Not only because he has been ripped off but also because if he is going to spend £60 he should really spend it on some shoes or a handbag, things I really will love and cherish forever.

You're probably reading this thinking I am a bitter singleton  who is writing in fear of getting no cards, but you would be wrong.  I have a lovely boyfriend but it is early days (only six months in), but I find it more romantic that he buys me flowers becuase I feel under the weather,  gets me surprise ballet tickets even though he knows he will hate it,  does the washing up after I have cooked without being asked and  was willing to drive me to work on my first day because I was nervous even though it added an hour onto his journey.  That to me is romance and means far more than an over priced gift  on one day of the year.

Don't get me wrong, I have posted a card to show willing and also to protect against the fact that if he hasn't listened to my anti-Valentines protest he sends one I don't look mean and heartless.

So with all this in mind my boyfriend is away and  I will be spending my Valentines day at the pub with my mate and that suits me just fine.

There's a new girl in town

So, I have a new job. It fits all my criteria, it uses my PR skills, it is worthwhile (it's a charity), pay and benefits fulfil my needs and yet although perfect on paper it makes me have to face one of the things I hate. Being new.

I absolutely hate being the new girl. I am part way through my second week and am sure I spend most of my time looking like a rabbit in the headlights. I am failing make any points of use in conversations, as if I am honest, half the time I am not one hundred per cent sure what people are talking about and I am convinced my new manager is probably thinking “Oh no why didn't I stick with my first choice, candidate number two.” This is a feeling that has been repeated job after job after job.

Given I have had quite a few jobs you would think I would be used of the new girl feeling, but it can be difficult to get the balance between being seen as friendly and approachable without being over familiar. Over familiarity can be the kiss of death for any new starter. I remember a new girl in a previous job trying to get in on an in joke between two people and calling somebody by their nickname in a jovial (I'm trying to fit in) tone on only her second day. It wasn't well received and the over familiarity I am sure delayed her full integration into the team by a couple of weeks.

The other thing with new girl syndrome is that there is so much bloody information and everybody talks about the said info so casually that when I am not understanding it fully I start to suspect that I may be on the lower end of the intelligence spectrum. In reality in the 13 years I have been working I have had to get my head round the complexities of over 100 different childhood liver diseases, classic car insurance and the finer points of women's lingerie and how it fits to name but a few, but you forget how long it takes to learn the jargon and procedures of each business.

The final thing I hate about the newness is that deep down I always thing “Oh my God what if it is like this forever, what if I never meet anybody in the office who will chat to me about none work stuff.” This is a slightly unfounded fear on my part as in whatever job I've had I have always been a reasonably popular member of the team (even if I do say so myself). So, it is a weird feeling going from one day knowing everybody, having a laugh, knowing all the in jokes to suddenly being in a position where it is questionable as to whether people even know my name.

In reality I know that in a few weeks I'll be settled and it will feel like I have been there forever, but for now I am going to just carry on doing that smile, (you know the one that you hope makes you look approachable and friendly, but that you suspect might make you look like a lunatic) and hope for the best.

News Flash

Today's blog is no normal blog, in fact it is no more than a press release.  The new man in my life is a journalist and I work in PR.  A month or so ago he was telling me how good I was at PR-ing myself (I see no problem with this and think it is something we should all do more of).


In the name of journalism and as a little joke reminder of what a delight I am (he may beg to differ) I decided to send him a press release, all about my good self.  Please see below.


News Release

F.A.O A certain man

24^th September 2011

  

Amazing woman found in Birmingham

Rebecca O'Connor was today discovered in Birmingham, just generally being amazing.

The petite 33 year old was found to be living in a flat in Erdington.  Experts do not know how long she has been there but all agreed that she was a rare and precious gem to be treasured.

The ebony lovely is said to work in public relations and boasts many talents including being cute, hilariously funny, intelligent and great fun to name but a few.

Those in the know say that it is rare to find a creature of such loveliness and concur that it will be a lucky man that manages to capture such a wonderful specimen.

A doctor from the Department for lovely things at Birmingham University said: “We were delighted to come across such an wonderful find, especially so close to the city.  We have all been drawn in by her magnetism, she really is something special.  When she's around we all just feel generally happier and more at ease. 

“It is believed that many men have tried to lure her from her natural habitat but have failed.  It will be a lucky gent who manages to keep her for himself.  It is a pleasure just sharing the same room as her.  If there were more people like Rebecca in the world I truly believe it would be a better place to live, I am even convinced that she could even, given the chance, be responsible for world peace at some point in the future.

“I think we are going to see amazing things from this fantastic young woman.”

If you wish to see Rebecca O'Connor she can be viewed in  Erdington, Birmingham after 630pm most weekdays but appointments must be made for weekends, due to her hectic social life which is a side effect of being wonderful.

ENDS

Memories.....Priceless

In a time when we all seem to be about the “I want”, “I need”, “I must have” and in a world that at times appears to have gone consumerism mad with many people seeming to believe that a flat screen tv, a minimum of two holidays a year and owning at least two cars to a family is what will make them happy, I have been having a think about whether real happiness can be bought?

I mean I love shopping as much as the next person but I can honestly say I have never had any long term happiness from a pair of shoes, new dress,coat, handbag or miraculous new make-up product (to be honest I don't consider make-up a luxury more a necessity, and anybody who has seen me first thing in the morning will vouch for this). These items are more like lust filled flings, I see them, I want them, I get them, wear them endlessly for a short period (sometimes combined with feelings of guilt) become bored and then forget about them and move on to the next shiny, beautiful thing that catches my eye.

When it comes to the things that have have given me long term happiness (the solid as a 50 year marriage kind), most of it comes down to the things money can't buy, the things nobody can steal nor replace....memories. It's rare that anybody ever sits back, smiles fondly and gets a far away look in their eyes as they reminisce about the time they had to miss a mortgage payment because they went mad in Selfridges on a Saturday afternoon.

Like I say I'm not against a bit of mindless blowing of cash as my ever expanding wardrobe will confirm, but the things that have made me happiest and can guarantee to raise smile when I'm having a bad day include (and this is not a full and comprehensive list):

Kayaking in New Zealand

The memory of New Zealand full stop is an amazing, happiness inducing one, but remembering setting out into the sea with an instructor and five other people (with varied kayaking experience), looking at a beautiful coastline and paddling out amongst the seals will be something that stays with me forever.

Mentoring

I mentored a young person for a short time and can honestly say it was one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life. Seeing another person grow in confidence and achieve things that they themselves never thought they would achieve and knowing you helped them do that is the best feeling in the world. All the shoes in the world can't beat the feeling of knowing you've helped make a difference to somebody else's life.

Out of the blue post

Now I'm at an age where most of the letters that land on my mat are telling me that I owe money or trying to get me to part with my money it is always a joy to return home to an enevelope with familiar handwriting and an unexpected card or letter from a friend thhat they have decided to send ' just because.'

My 30^th birthday party

Some people dread turning 30. I loved it as it was a brilliant excuse to get all the people I love and care about in one room and even if I don't remember most of it, the pictures tell me that we all had a great night.

Laughing till it hurts

Nothing beats the feeling of getting together with good friends, eating food, drinking wine, catching up and laughing until it hurts so much you actually fear that you might stop breathing. Luckily for me I can't pin this down to just one memory as I am fortunate enough that I have had numerous nights like that.

And my favourite memory.......

Dancing round the living room with mum

When I was a kid, I remember many a Sunday when mum would put on the Mowtown, you know a bit of Stevie Wonder, a bit of Diana Ross and the Supremes et al and we would spend the afternoon singing along and dancing round the living room. My song of choice was Bonny M brown girl in the Ring and to this day will still get me up dancing.

So there you have it, like I say not the full and exhaustive list, but more of a taster. I'm sure we all have different things on our lists of things that make us happy and the memories that will keep us warm in our old age may differ but I'd bet Louis Vuitton clutch that not many of them involve possessions.

What everybody should know (in my opinion)

The other day I heard a song that I absolutely love, Baz Luhrmann Everybody's Free (to wear sunscreen), if you have no idea what I am talking about take a look on YouTube.  Anyway I digress, listening to him and his words of advice got me thinking about what advice I would give my younger self and here is what I came up with.

Don't believe that school days are the best days of your life

When I was at school and grown ups used to tell me that my school days would be the best days of my life I was filled with horror.  The thought that life wasn't going to get any better than being told what to do all the time, stupid rules that nobody was willing to explain, bitching, insecurities, your mates being off with you because you've been off sick for a few days, needing a diary to remember who your best friend is that day, how could these possibly be considered the best days of your life?  Fair enough you have no responsibilities, you don't have to worry about bills and money but still the best days of your life? 

I would tell my younger self that this is a load of old rubbish and that the people who say that school days are the best days of your life probably need to get out more and actually have a life.  Trust me if you live your life right things get a whole lot better than school.

Honesty isn’t always the best policy

When somebody starts a sentence with the phrase ‘can I be honest?’  Or says the line  ‘I was just being honest’ 9 times out of 10 this translates as “I want to be a bitch but nobody will call me that if I disguise it as honesty.”  Trust me on this, when you were a kid and your mum told you that if you didn’t have anything nice to say it’s better to say nothing at all, she was right.   My rule of thumb is if being honest is going to stop somebody from getting hurt do it, is going to hurt them for no other reason than you felt that it was necessary to mention that you didn’t like their outfit then don’t bother.

One day you’ll get hangovers

In my carefree student days when I could drink copious amounts of cider and roll out of bed fresh as a daisy for a 9am lecture I would never have believed it if somebody had told me I’d one day get crippling hangovers, but boy do I believe it now. 

The decline into hangovers from hell kicked in at 26 and has got progressively worse.  At 26 the hangover probably lasted a morning and I could probably be back out on the night, by 30 it was lasting a whole day and now if I deign to stay out past 3am on a Saturday you can guarantee I’ll be turning up to work on Monday still feeling slightly jaded.

Don’t take advice from people whose life you don’t want

What I mean by this is if there’s an area of your life that you’re having trouble in and you want advice on it choose whom you ask for it, carefully.  For example nobody would/should ask me for relationship advice or how to be a domestic Goddess, but they might ask me how to make a wicked spinach and goats cheese lasagne, where to go on a date or how to maintain a hectic social calendar. 

Basically what I’m trying to say if you want relationship advice ask somebody who’s relationship you admire, not somebody who’s relationship you look at and think “no way no day would I put up with that shit”. If you want advice on asking your boss for a pay rise or getting a promotion go to somebody who is successful in this area, if you want somebody to give you tips on hosting a great dinner party ask somebody who's party you've enjoyed.  It's not brain surgery.

Find a passion and make time for it

Life is short and what you do for 8 hours a day and 5 days a week won’t always fulfil all your needs.  I love working in PR as I love writing, coming up with ideas and dealing with people, but as much as I wouldn’t choose any other career it doesn’t fulfil all my needs and I suspect it’s the case for most people.

So, I try to get my fix of other things I love in other ways, for example, writing this blog, seeing new places, and doing voluntary work with young people (although currently looking for a new project), these are the things I love. 

I have friends with everyday jobs who sing in bands on an evening, another who spends a few hours a week working voluntarily with RSPCA, a few who run marathons (crazy in my opinion), work with homeless people, the list is endless.  The thing they have in common is that they’ve all found something that they are passionate about.  Whatever the passion whether it be climbing mountains, sailing oceans or just taking time out to read a book with a good glass of wine, take time to do it and your life will be more fulfilling.

When it comes to friendship get rid of the spreaders of doom

Sometimes we end up in friendships, which start off great, like a great romance but platonic, and like many of the great romances things can go wrong. One person becomes to needy, bossy, whiny, spending time with them leaves you feel deflated and a bit crap.  Generally they are what I refer to as zappers or spreaders of doom.  If this is your friendship then I say run, run for your life. 

Now I’m not saying ditch your mates when the going gets tough (we all have times where were a bit down, grumpy, teary), but for some people this is just the way they always are. 

Example one, cheery friend: “Shall we go to that festival our favourite band are playing it’ll be great?” doom spreader “I’d rather not it’ll probably rain or they’ll cancel”

Example two: cheery friend “Let’s go to that party, that guy you like will be there” doom spreader “He’ll never fancy me what’s the point”

There are some times when the doom spreader is happy, usually when you’ve had a row with your boyfriend, lost your job or your cat as died and they want all the gory details.  They seem to thrive off your misery like some blood sucking vampire.  Trust me anybody who’s company you leave feeling deflated, tired and emotionally drained needs to go as no good can come of it.

You’ll get your heart broken and break hearts to

Unfortunately this one is pretty much a given and for most people it will happen more than once.   Everybody gets his or her heartbroken; everybody has that moment where a break up is so bad that you think you’ll never recover.   I once broke up with a boyfriend and couldn’t eat or sleep for about 4 months, all I could do was cry, drink alcohol and cry some more.  I swore I would never get my heartbroken again, fast forward a few years and I’m crying and drinking again and so the cycle continues.

On the other side most of us will have a time where we the heartbreaker who leaves with no real reason or who says the cruel thing just because we know it’ll hurt.  This is how life goes.

The good news no matter what we might be told not many people actually die of a broken heart, most of us  survive heartbreak, can one day laugh about some of the tales of woe and will hopefully go on to meet somebody who makes us question what all the tears previously were about.

If my younger self decided not to take any of this advice I’d just say go and buy a copy of Baz Luhrmann Everybody’s Free (to wear sunscreen).

The Patron St of Lost Causes

Of late I have been giving some thought to the problems with my love life and it has only just dawned on me what the problem is…I go for totally dysfunctional men. I am sure that there are no gasps of shock from people who have known me for a long time, who have been there through the ups and downs of commitment-phobes, borderline alcoholics, cheaters, people who are already attached and crazy stalker types (to name a few), but for me this has been something of a revelation.

Having given it a lot of thought I realise that I have been afflicted with this condition from a very, and I mean very early age. At the age of just five mum and I spent Christmas in Florida with a rock band (yes, that alone sounds quite dysfunctional). Now being quite an earlier starter, at five I already had a crush on one of the band members. Not only did I spend my days telling the said crush of my love and how beautiful he was, but I could already pick a dysfunctional lost cause out in a room full of men (and given the said band were a full on 80’s, leather trouser wearing, wild hair type rock band - think Bon Jovi and Europe stylee), that‘s no mean feat but I did it. My crush was approximately 26 years old and already on wife/divorce number three. Unfortunately I haven’t grown out of this, on my living room wall I have a framed picture of Jim Morrison (a man who was undoubtedly beautiful and wild but he did die in a bath, an alcoholic with a serious drug problem).

The thing that made me take stock and realise that I am playing a key role in in this exciting but disastrous love life of mine is that the past couple of months have been a dating frenzy and a pattern has arisen. Emotionally unavailable/functioning alcoholic/inability to commit? Men with any of these criteria have been pretty much guaranteed a second date, if they’ve managed to be all three and possibly more I’m practically planning the wedding.

On the other hand I have also been on dates with some men that my mother would seriously approve of self sufficient/no major emotional issues/ability to commit to something more than three days in advance and what’s my response? ‘Run Becky run’ and I’m away faster than Forrest Gump.

As I am writing this I am laughing but in reality it is a bit of a problem and the problem lies at my door. As much as people might say ‘it’s not you it’s them’ I have finally taken responsibility and am prepared to stand up and say “hello I am Becky and I am a commitment-phobe”. Allegedly admitting it is the first step to recovery.

I remember reading in a glossy women’s magazine that if you fear commitment you subconsciously give out signals to men who won’t/can’t commit. This explains recent attractions to men who live anywhere but the West Midlands. I have decided that it is my fear of the mundane that causes this. The deep down fear that one day like the majority of other people in the world my evenings will be spent sitting on a sofa, eating dinner, watching soaps and arguing over washing-up. Hey I know that’s normal every day life, but if as a five year old your spend your time on tour buses with rock bands how are you ever meant to want the mundane?

So I am going to try and learn from the friends I see who are happy, that funny, caring ,willing to commit men can be just as much fun as the wild ones. From this point forward maybe looking dreamily at my Jim Morrison picture thinking of what could have been if I had been born in another era is as wild as it’s going to get. Well maybe after just one weekend with a crazy, fickle, wild man I met at the weekend who lives south of the Watford Gap.