A man I knew many years ago, once said something to me that has stayed with me all my life. But it is only recently, have I taken his words as a lesson.
I will tell you from now, that whatever I write today is going to be very frank and bluntly honest, because I don’t know any other way of expressing what I feel.
An unusual friendship
At the time I think I was about 25, so about 25 years ago, and I did not take offence at what he said, because it wasn’t said to be offensive or to hurt me. I believe that he really saw into me, and saw something that I still had to discover for myself. He was a few years older than me, and we had struck up this unusual friendship, that we both knew would never be more than it was. He was a Sikh, and I obviously wasn’t, but that didn’t get in the way of our friendship. There was never any question of anything else happening between us we just took it, for what it was.
I remember this occasion so clearly, because we were sat in a local pub, both drinking soft drinks, and I guess he must have been observing me and given it some thought, because he turned to me and said, I quote:
“You could have either been a Princess or a fucking whore!”
I never asked him why he said it, or by what he meant, I just kind of took it on board and accepted it. But so many times over these years, his words have come back, resonating loudly through me. And each time, it has made me stop and think. The statement itself, is a dichotomy, and as such there is no absolute answer to its’ meaning. However, time and again, I am given reason to revisit that particular day, and each time I have reached new conclusions, and gain a better understanding of where he might have been coming from. I don’t actually recall if I saw him again after that, but it is true that words can leave a remarkable footprint. I don’t know whether he knew, that his words would have a lasting impact or not, but I do see the absolute truth in them; which goes to the very root of me.
The Ugly Duckling
I have never looked at myself as being some great beauty, in fact I only really became aware of my looks when I reached the age of 26. I never really appreciated what made me attractive to the opposite sex, or noticed that I had blossomed, until I began to hear what the men around me said. Throughout school and college, no one had expressed any particular interest of that kind in me, so I never thought I was anything special. I didn’t look in the mirror and see something stunning reflecting back at me, as far as I was concerned, I was just ordinary. I associated myself with the story of “The ugly duckling”, that later became a swan. But it would seem that I had changed and blossomed, even though I couldn’t see it myself, and still don’t even today!
I have repeated what this man said, to few people both male and female, only to gauge what they might understand. The general response from the women has always been to take immediate offence, and the guys are always reluctant to share their thoughts; which has only served to confirm that my own thoughts are right. And this saddens me, because I have been a victim, caught up in something, that I have only just realised I have unwittingly played a part in.
His statement would suggest that somehow there is a choice to be made. A choice between being either a Princess or a fucking whore, but that choice or decision does not exist, nor it is one for me to make. It is made by what attitude the men I have encountered in my life, have of me. They decide what it is they want from me, they decide, if I am the princess or the whore, and they treat me accordingly.
The simple truth
But the simple truth as I believe it to be, is that I am both. In truth, I am a princess, but on a romantic level; virtually every man that I have come across has only ever treated me like a whore. No wonder I have become so disillusioned.
And knowing and understanding this fact, is horrible. It is not something I am willing to accept.
All my life, I have been in search of love. True, genuine, sincere and real love. And yet I have seldom felt it. I give out enough of it, and get pretty much fuck all back… apart from men wanting to literally fuck me or fuck me over. Like I said at the start, some of you may think I am being foolish, that maybe I should be grateful for this kind of attention, that it’s a boost to the ego. But what it has achieved is that all I see are men looking at me, like I’m a piece of meat or plaything, and nothing more.
The first time I signed up for a dating site, it didn’t take long before I realised that finding sincerity let alone true love, was going to be difficult. Within a matter of weeks, I said to my friends, that I had a “fuckable face”, not a nice term, but a factual one nonetheless. I came up with this, after so many men made it perfectly clear what they would like to do, either to me or with me. They saw me, and just wanted to fuck me, and nothing else.
None of them read my profile or asked anything about me. But they had assumed that it was okay to speak to me like this, with such disrespect; as though my own feelings didn’t even come in to it. They were attracted to me, and that was enough. As though that was all I was also looking for, meaningless sex and ‘no strings attached’ relationships. Needless to say, I soon put them straight and then some, but after a while it began to hurt. And if it wasn’t sex they wanted, they put in a lot of effort to woo me, in order to extort money from me, with their sad, sorry tales of sudden misfortune, with which only I could help. I have come across them all.
Spreading my legs…
On 2 recent holidays, I was constantly harassed by men of all ages, shapes and sizes, all thinking they would have a go. As if, just a few nice words were enough for me to fall down, spread my legs, and invite them all in. I never asked for or solicited any of this attention, but I got it anyway. I had begun to think that I had some sign on my forehead only visible to men, it made me feel quite paranoid. It made me feel angry and sad.
I am sure I am not alone in this, but as a woman it is not a compliment to be made to feel like this. To be thought of in this way, certainly doesn’t boost my ego or make me feel good in the slightest. Maybe if I were still young (& wild), I might have appreciated this or even made the most of it. But in truth I was never that girl, and I will never be that woman. I guess I am angry, because I never believed that men could be that shallow, and it saddens me, because they have no idea about everything else that they are missing out on. Everything else that makes me, me, everything else that is hidden just beneath the skin of what they perceive, because that is where my true beauty exists.
And so those words that were spoken to me all those years ago, are still in my head and remain so utterly true. My conclusion to all this, is that I am both a Princess and a whore, and what men have to learn about me is that,
‘If they treat me like a Princess, maybe I will also be their whore, but if they treat me like a whore, they get nothing at all’.
And as for ‘that’ man, I believe he saw that in me, and if circumstances had been different, who knows where we might be.
But I thank him, because I have never felt such honesty since.
I would be very interested in hearing your thoughts… Sx ❤️
If you are interested in any of my work, or have any queries please feel free to contact me using the form below. 🙂
If you are interested in any of my work, or have any queries please feel free to contact me using the form below.🙂
This house, which was once my home, has (I hope) been sold today. It marks the end of an era. An end to a large chapter of my life. And the beginning of feelings of displacement, as I search for a new place to call ‘home’.
When I bought this house 12 and half years ago, it was a time when my relationship had felt secure; and I was willing to make a financial commitment, with the man that became my husband. Up until that point I had been completely independent, having already owned two previous homes, and coped very well on my own, thank you. But somehow, it seemed like the next most natural step, it had felt like the right thing to do, at the time.
After his children left to live with their mum, my ex, all but moved in with me, even though he had his own place still. It wasn’t at my request that he moved in, he’d just decided he didn’t want to be on his own, in his own home any more. And that was it, he never left.
It became time to move on again, and that’s when I found this place. This house talked to me, from the moment I saw it from outside, before I had even knocked on the door. I knew that I had found the right place. As I walked round on my first viewing, I had already pictured how I was going to put love back into this house. It had been lonely for too long, with it’s single occupant, who had been here since the day it was built. She had got married, raised a family and was eventually left alone for years, until her son decided to look after her. I did a lot for her before the final day; and I always thought that she seemed happy to be selling her home on to me. Almost as if she knew I would indeed continue to take care of it.
And that’s just what I did. However, I think I did a bit more than she might have anticipated!
We both planned and designed our home, but decor and furnishings etc, were my department. All my furniture, bar the essentials were put in storage, and within 6 months of roughing it; all building works were completed, the house was completely renovated, extended, re-arranged and bought up to date. It was a tough six months, of sleeping rough, being cold and having no kitchen to speak of. While this was going on, my ex still had his house, and was able to avoid most of the discomfort, I had to endure. But, it was done. I worked hard on making this house, our home, my home, transforming it over the years, until it became what it is now.
It wasn’t long before my concerns for my financial security were proved right, I had made a mistake. A big mistake. And there was nothing I could do about it, except to bide my time, watch, listen and learn. In the end, it proved to be a very expensive mistake, and I have since spent a long time contemplating it. I could have taken action or fought for it, but decided it just wasn’t worth it. Money has never been my king, so I opted for the peaceful process, which proved just as painful. But anyway, long story, short, I got my fingers severely burnt!
Bear in mind, that I had been separated from ex since Oct 2012, he had initially said he would leave, but due to circumstances we’ve had to share the same roof space. And still do to this day, which has not been easy by any definition, the last 15 months being possibly the worst of my life.
I have digressed a little, but I suppose the point I am trying to make is that, there were a lot of ‘beginnings’, and ‘endings’ in this house. These walls have witnessed and absorbed so much of my life. It echoes my unhappiness when I am here on my own. My home, for the last 15months, became two rooms, my bedroom and my ‘snug’, I have given up on using the rest of the house, unless it’s necessary. My snug is where my world happens, it is my place of peace, calmness, inspiration, creativity, imagination and so on. My snug is, ‘MY’ space. My bedroom, is for rest, rejuvenation and quiet times, or for when I want to feel music in me. Both spaces are my sanctuaries. no stress is allowed across either of these rooms’ thresholds.
But going back, it was the first time I had ever properly lived with someone, actually shared a life. At the beginning, we both has so many hopes and dreams about our future, as it was back then. We have shared some precious moments here, there have been many occasions when we have created memories, on our own or with other people. There was once love here, but that too has since evaporated, dissipated into thin air, like all other kind feelings, and nice thoughts. Now I am reminded of arguments, discussions, conversations, tears and so on, as I go from room to room.
This house, is also the place, where I first seriously became ill, and continue to be so, this is the place where my world fell apart, and bad health became a constant companion. I had aways thought having the hospital so close by, was a good thing. But I didn’t appreciate just how much time I would get to spend there, for one reason or another. As my health deteriorated, and so did everything else.
But I loved this house, it was ‘me’ all over. But since things went wrong, I have come to see that I need to create a new home, somewhere else, another place where I can start my dreams and hopes afresh. This house is the only thing that still binds us together, mentally and emotionally, I left this place a long time ago, now I need to physically follow it through
In the last few years, this house has seen so much anger, resentment, bitterness, bereavement, and the true colours of our individual rainbows. It has seen the end of many things, and now the planning stages of new horizons.
On the whole, it was the best thing I could ever have done. I am not one to generally walk away, but this time it was about saving my own life from an inevitable misery that laid ahead. Now, I am a happy person. Now, I have a stress-free life, unless it’s brought to my door like bunches of flowers or via the telephone line…
It’s been nearly 4 and a half years since I moved on, and the place I found (by luck more than anything), has become my home and sanctuary. I had many battles to fight along the way, with my physical, emotional and mental health. As well as a mountain of excess baggage, I desperately needed to off load. But, I got here in the end, and feel a hell of better for it.
It took me a long time, to deal with the fallout of everything that had happened in the last 4/5 years. It took me much longer than I had expected to fully heal and repair myself, after all it was a traumatic experience. There are pieces from that past, that are still wedged into me. These fragments will be reawakened from time to time, when triggered by someone’s words or behaviour toward me. I have a very quick flinch response in that respect.
It’s a fact I can’t help, but it serves to protect my fragile heart and feelings, because I absolutely refuse to ever walk down that same path or road again.
It may well have ruined me, in a way that I find it difficult to visualise living with another man again. Ruined me to the point, I don’t know if I will ever trust another man; and always look at actions and behaviour, more than whatever words he may say.
I feel something inside of me has hardened. I’ve a much sturdier shell than before, to deflect as much negativity as I can. I have a different mindset. I am less tolerant and more vocal about not accepting bad behaviour and manners. But most of all I try to live the life I often speak of.
I am still very soft within, but that part of me is now slightly harder to reach. Sx❤️
If you are interested in any of my work, or have any queries please feel free to contact me using the form below.🙂