The post in which Nidge talks sex...

I read an online article the other day that was discussing 'gay' terminology.  Having read such things before I am well aware that there are distinctions in the roles gay men take during sex.  From my own limited personal experience I have also found the following to be true:

Bottom or passive = on the receiving end
Versatile/bottom = as above
Versatile = as above
Versatile/top = as above
Active or top = believes it is better to give than to receive (approximately 51% of the time and the other 49% is on his knees whimpering like a new puppy)

So the article I read gave me a new concept, something called a 'total top'.  At no point in time does he wish to be on the receiving end (unless it is of a blow job).  As previously mentioned, my practical experience is limited, but from the men I have known I find it difficult to believe that something such as a 'total top' exists.  I would have put such a man on my Christmas list for Santa but I find it easier to believe that Santa exists!

I suppose I am something of a prude when it comes to sex.  I understand the idea of kink and fetishes and all the rest of it, but personally speaking I have simple needs.  I don't need chemicals (i.e. poppers) to achieve and maintain an erection.  I once got a whiff of them in a nightclub and almost brought my dinner back.  I don't feel the urge to have so many piercings that my intimate regions resemble a Meccano set.  I am sure I will never understand why anyone needs to be zapped by so much electricity during sex that they cause the neighbourhood lights to flicker.

I admit that I like leather...but don't especially want to be clad from head to toe in it during sexual activities, nor do I wish to be strapped in to some sort of arrangement that looks like it is used by cows during calving.  While a bag over my head may be preferable for my partner during sexual relations, I have no desire to be zipped in to a gimp mask.  Anything involving catheters(!) and funnel shaped devices is also on the list of undesirables.  I don't want a crowd watching...I certainly don't want to be videoed...I find it unpleasant having my photograph taken at the best of times.

I am ticklish, so touch me like you mean it otherwise I will laugh (and then punch you) and my nipples are very sensitive, they don't need twisting like you are trying to tune in a 1930s wireless...

What's wrong with tenderness, affection and intimacy?

Making a list...

On Thursday, my Facebook status was, 'Prowling for fresh victims. Advice to the gay dudes...make sure your expectations are realistic. Some of your demands might have been okay when you were 30 years younger, but now you should just be grateful that someone doesn't make you wear a bag over your head.'

So having continued to read lists of what everyone absolutely must have in a potential shag...erm, I mean...partner, I have decided to make my own list of musts and must nots.

• Male genitals - kind of obvious, but I thought I had better mention it as I have had some strange offers in the past...like the woman who sent me the message, "You don't need to be gay.  Some of us women like it up the arse".  As icebreakers go, that was a little beyond what I require from anyone and ensured I blocked her
• A pulse - always a plus in a potential match unless you want to date a vampire or a zombie (already had my share of both of those)
• I have a fondness for blue eyes...but other colours are acceptable so long as they aren't black, red, etc.
• I like dark hair - and short hair.  I am not bothered how short it is (bald...stubble...etc.) and quite like it when it has grey in it (or was once dark and is now totally grey)
• Body hair...actually I do have a thing for hairy men - and I mean right up to looking like a gorilla.  Body hair isn't such a huge deal so long as there is some somewhere.  Men are not meant to be waxed and polished to a shine, especially pale ones...they just look like oven-ready chickens
• I don't mind facial hair so long as it isn't an outlandish design or you get mistaken for Gandalf...
• An interest in something, but not an obsession (and not trains)
• Confidence, but not arrogance
• A sense of humour - trust me, you'd need it
• I quite like a dominant guy - not in the realms of being dragged round Asda on a leash in a gimp mask - but a man who can 'take charge'
• Someone who has feet in proportion to their body...men who are six feet tall and yet only take a size five shoe just really weird me out
• A sensible height...like between five feet and six feet six.  I am 5'11" (and a fraction).  I am not going to be wearing high heels any time soon.  Once you pass the 7' mark, you are intimidating (and hard to kiss)
• A bit of meat on your bones...if you only need a long nose and ears to resemble Wile E Coyote, even facing the other way is not going to help...

I am sure there is other stuff I could put on this list, but choosing a person is not an exact science.  At least not for me.

One Day I'll Fly Away

Someone told me the other day that I wasn't materialistic.  I am not sure whether it was meant as an insult, but I took it as a compliment.  I really don't care about 'stuff'.  Don't get me wrong, I used to - I loved having nice things.  The older I get, it seems the less I require.

My house isn't spectacular, but it keeps the weather out.  My clothes are probably starting to look dated and maybe some of them are a little worse for wear, but they are clean and keep me covered.  My car isn't flashy, but it takes me to places I need to go.  My phone doesn't have lots of technical thingummies, but it makes calls in an emergency.  I might miss a meal here and there, but I am unlikely to starve to death.

I remember reading something about possessions - that we don't actual own anything, we just rent them.  For example, a gold ring.  You might buy it, but you don't own it because it will more than likely outlast you - so your payment was renting it for your lifetime.  Over the past couple of years, I have learned that I need very little.  I don't feel the need to have new furniture and knick-knacks and gadgets any more.  I have seen so many people that I genuine and deeply cared for fade away because of cancer and Alzheimer's.  Life is there to be lived, not to be spent polishing a car or dusting.

Don't get me wrong, there are still things I would like - a new PC wouldn't go amiss as mine has just celebrated it's tenth birthday.  My car could do with an overhaul.  I'd like some warm trousers for the winter.  To be honest, I would much rather see what else is out there in the world and share it with people than own a load of clutter.  If I had the money, I would travel.  I have seen so little of my own country and there is a whole world out there - all those places to see, things to do, people to meet.  Perhaps one day.

Hidden Damage

The worst thing about depression is that people can't see it.  They can see evidence of it, but the actual thing itself is not visible.  I have suffered from depression since I was seventeen.  I had a breakdown when I was 29 and another when I was 39 (needless to say that I am not looking forward to 49).

People can look at me and not know anything is wrong, just as they can with anyone else who suffers from mental health issues.  When you have experienced it for yourself, you tend to pick up on the small things in other people...a tremor in the hands...a momentary facial expression when a thought hits them and their guard falls down.

Despite the pills and the twenty years of therapy I have had, the darkness never goes away.  It is always somewhere in the back of my head waiting for a moment when it can cast a shadow over me.  That's what it is like for me - a shadow.  The light does not go out of life, but it is not on me.  I can see it around me, which makes me even more acutely aware of the shadow on me.  That's the momentary facial expression...just like a shadow passing over the person's face.

I think people who have not experienced depression find it hard to understand.  There are no scars, no physical impairment.  Unless you are sat huddled up and having a cry, you appear just as anyone else does.  The fact that inside screaming and your head is contemplating how to end it all does not show.  When I am alone at night, that is when the shadows are greatest.  I always loved my bed, but over the last couple of years I have delayed my bedtime more and more.  Lying alone in the darkness of my thoughts with voices goading me and images of blades is not something I look forward to.

I heard it said that one of the times when you feel the most relief from depression is when you decide to take your own life.  The end is in sight and the shadows lift.  When a person with depression suddenly becomes happy and at peace is, apparently, the time to worry.  I reached that point once myself.  I went to see individual members of my family, just to spend time with them and let them know that I had been feeling unwell but was now able to see the light of day.  As it turned out, a friend prevented me from carrying out my plan.  I had it all figured out - when I was going to do it with the least likelihood of being discovered during my attempt, how to wedge the garage door so it would take effort to open it.

People say such silly things when you have depression or they offer you tea and sympathy.  Personally, I don't want sympathy...I want understanding.

A Word in Your Ear

Actually it isn't a word in your ear.  Sometimes words get stuck in my head - going round and round on repeat like an obsessive thought.  Sometimes they are funny, other times they are just annoying.  Very occasionally there will be a word that is odd.  This is one of those times.

Who am I?

The video above is something I can relate to - and yes, I see myself in the Joan Collins role.  Does everyone do this?  At home sometimes I am an emotional wreck, I am too tired to make an effort, I want to curl up somewhere and shut out the world.  I am sure everyone who really knows me or who has seen the things I have posted on blogs, Twitter and Facebook will have an understanding of this.  As soon as my hand touches the door handle to leave the house, another me assumes control.  The smile comes on, the silliness and laughter start.  Someone asked me recently if I ever felt down because I am always laughing and positive.  My online presence reflects some of the inner turmoil I feel because I am in private when I write it, so I don't see it as being public.

The different personalities is something I discussed when I last had therapy.  At the end of the first eight sessions, my therapist suddenly stopped and said "I think I just saw the real you for a second".  I knew she was right as as I felt it and snapped myself back under control.  I am a natural introvert, but when I was 16 years old another personality emerged as a self-defensive mechanism; something to keep the bullies at bay, something to distance me from the world around me.  I refer to it as 'showbiz me'  Even during therapy sessions.when I had sat pouring out my fears and anxieties in sobbing bursts, when it came time to leave, my face set in to it's outside world mask and my mannerisms became exaggerated.

Keeping up appearances for many years takes it toll.  I still do it to a certain extent, but over the past few months I learned some things about myself.  I am actually a good person.  I have value.  I have some fantastic skills.  I deserve to be loved.  So much pretence over the years.  Quite surprisingly (to me anyway) I am now taking a much more relaxed view of things - hate me or rate me - I actually like me.

Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

Years ago I decided that regrets were a bit pointless.  I thought it seemed like a waste of time and effort to regret things I had done or not done, things I had said or not said.  I couldn't go back and change the past.

Recently I realised that I am actually carrying a huge burden of regrets; not regrets for the past, but regrets for the future.  So if my regrets centre on a time that has yet to happen, what is preventing me from changing them?  The main answer of course is...me.  Even after half my life in therapy, I am still ruled by self-doubt, by fear, by anxiety.  I am also a martyr to my nature - I hurt myself rather than hurting other people.  Other things that cause me future regret are lack of money and various situations in my life - these situations link in with my comment about hurting myself rather than other people (I wonder who made me responsible for the entire world).

So, what do I regret about the future?  I regret that I will never have children.  I regret that I will never walk on a foreign beach.  I regret that I will never experience the nerves and thrill of a wedding day.  I regret that I will never make anyone proud of me.  I regret that I will never have that someone to share my life with.  I suppose the thing I will regret most is that I will have a whole life unlived.

I Blame The Parents!

We are all products of our upbringing.  The experiences we have, shape who we become.  I learned many good things when I was growing up; I also learned some bad things.


I believe my mother taught me Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, for example.  Admittedly, I think I was already touched with the crazy stick, but looking back I can see how she reinforced repetition of behaviour.  When I was growing up, my mother used to smoke (as in cigarettes, not just smoke coming out of her like Fenella Fielding in Carry on Screaming).  Before we could go to bed on a night, she would have us checking the sofa to make sure there was not a burning ember lurking that would cause us all to be burned to death while we slept.  It may sound like a small safety precaution, but I mean we actually had to take the sofa seat cushions out and check every nook and cranny.  Given that at age five I was a minor arsonist who stole matches from the kitchen and set fire to the grass over the road, I was probably not the best person to ask to do a fire safety check...

My father taught me to be an underachiever and then later in life an overachiever as I rebellled.  Nothing I ever did was good enough for my father.  The first criticism I can remember was concerning my painting of a windowsill; it was the first time I had ever painted anything other than a picture of a house and I was only six at the time.  I discovered that gloss paint in the 70s was nothing like the waterbased paints we used at school.  Eventually the criticism was enough to make me give up trying to succeed in anything as I always seemed to be a disappointment.  This attitude eventually went to it's polar opposite when I was in my early 20s and I became an overachiever after accidentally discovering I was good at things, like sewing and baking.  I then went from not caring if I pleased my family to trying to please everyone all of the time - something that has taken me another 20 years and two nervous breakdowns to give up on. 

I now live be the words that my great aunt said to me so many times, "You can't please all of the people all of the time...so please yourself".  It has, however, taken me the two afforementioned breakdowns and 20 years of therapy to see the benefit of what she told me for years.

None of the above is meant in a negative way against those people who have influenced my life - without all of them, I would not be the person I am now...and for the very first time in my life I can actually say that I like me.

Blanding In

The title isn't a typo - I do mean 'bland' and not 'blend'.  I was alone in the quiet of the night yesterday and my brain was ticking over like it does; not totally sure how it got to the point it did.  I realised that without even noticing it was happening I have slipped in to the comfort of 'middle age beige'.  I only ever seem to wear browns and neutral tones these days - it is hard to believe I was once a goth with dyed black hair and blue lipstick.

I still have a lot of the clothing from my goth phase, though I doubt much of it fits me now other than the coats with their floor-skimming hems.  The boots, of course, will still fit but are probably past their best.  Chances of me ever fitting in to the numerous pairs of black leather trousers are a lot slimmer than I am now!

As a side note, I also find it hard to imagine (given the state of my back and the fact I walked with a stick for about two years) that I ever tottered around in four inch high heels.  I was not a transvestite but when I came out of the long, dark goth phase the make-up I wore got brighter and I discovered the 'joys' of heels.  Of course, being almost six feet tall to start with, I found myself stooping a lot so as not to feel like a bizarre version of Snow White every time I went anywhere in a group of people.

So anyway, not sure when I settled in to beige, jumpers and cardigans but it is something I always thought would never happen - I always despised the colour brown.  I guess it means that although I have never grown up, I have started to grow old.

Fear

I hate going to bed.  It isn't because I am afraid of sleep.  It isn't because I am afraid of something happening during the night and me not waking up.  It isn't because I am afraid that something could happen to my home or my loved ones.  I hate going to bed, because I am afraid I will wake up the next morning.

Monday Monday

A quiet day.  Finished shortening curtains for my brother's ex-wife yesterday.  It took me ages as I could only manage a few stitches before I had to get up and do something else.  Anything that is repetitive and requires focus gives me the jitters at the moment.  Perhaps it is just as well that I don't have a sex life; my partner might find it off-putting if I kept saying "Can you stop for a while, you are annoying me?"

It is a nice day outside; cold but bright and sunny.  Of course, this being England it is unlikely to last.  In fact there is heavy snow predicted for the end of the week!  It makes little difference to me as the only plans I have are the Jobcentre on Friday and they will ring and cancel if the weather is bad because half the staff live so far away.

A long soak in a hot bath seems in order.  Anyone want to join me?!

Give me my life

Something strange happened today - after months trapped in darkness I realised that my brain still functions.  I allowed my life to be taken away from me by circumstances.  I lived in a tiny little space in the world.  Why?  Yes I was tired and worn down by the actions and words of those around me, but I did not fight back.  Perhaps it was their subtlety that gradual robbed me of who I was.  But - I am me;I can think, I can feel, I can experience.  I want my life back.  And I am going to take it back no matter what.

Employability

So...I am currently unemployed.  I have been for over a year now - but then again I am hardly unique in this.  The jobcentre have sent me on a course to help me in to work.  Today we filled in a practice job application and then had two 'fun' exercises.  The first involved using dried spaghetti and Jelly Babies to see who could build the highest tower.  The second exercise was to build a freestanding tent out of only newspaper and sticky tape.

These weren't really my sort of thing and as I have low self-worth at the moment as it is, I got to thinking "Is this all I am good for now?"  I have been an office manager, a training development consultant and a further education lecturer.  I suspect that kids in pre-school aren't allowed to mess about like we were doing today.  I tried to distance myself from it and of course there was a build up of resentment in the others in the room who were more than happy to spend their time on such things.  I am aware that a sheet of newspaper does not provide effective soundproofing when slagging someone off, but evidently some of the other people in the room did not.

In the end, I walked out.  Didn't even pick my coat up.  Went and sat on the ground outside the building and cried a bit.  Eventually I went back in and asked someone to get the course tutor to come out.  It was agreed that it would be better if I went off and did something else for the afternoon, which I did as I am working on refreshing my literacy and numeracy skills at another training centre.

Funny the way your day can change in an instant.  Recovering from a second nervous breakdown and being hooked on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills doesn't help.

At least after today I know I won't be any good in jobs where I have to build things with dried pasta or newspaper.