Reiki brings calmness & a realization

My father starts shouting at my mother and I.

“It’s not my stuff! And I’m bored with bring surrounded by it! It’s costing me money! You’ve got to throw more stuff out!”

I’m genuinely intrigued as to how my, my sister and my mother’s possessions are causing him to lose income and venture the question.

“Rental income!” he bellowed, as if speaking in a normal volume might not quite get the point across.

“Oh how much?” I ask, wondering if a figure will in some way help illuminate why a calm man is now snarling at us and treating the two members of his audience as selfish imbeciles.

“Ha! Well it’s not quantifiable!” he huffs, before snatching at a scrap of paper which must have dangerously entered the house this morning unsanitized through the letter box.

“But this man wants to rent space!”

I stand quite still evaluating the situation for a moment, and my mother supportively rubs my arm. We have had three weeks of steady, industrious work, moving, then emptying boxes. Packing things up for the charity shop and then taking them there. I cleared an office studio for us both to do art in, and revealed a space to put in a double WC, which gives an idea of our progress but we did realise this was only a start.

Old me would have exploded. Shouting and screaming that we were trying and it was hard, and I was always tired and fatigued and on top of that I’m bloody scared. Terrified in fact that at some point someone will fuck up and one of us will get sick. It would only take one person to get it, and this family of three might become one or even sadder none.

“What about my sisters stuff, why don’t you ask and see if they could pay to rent some space until they could take her things?”

“No point. I might as well just throw them out.”

“Throw them out? Without consulting her? I’m not sure that’s very nice..”

“It’s what her husband would do!”

My sisters husband is ruthless but I’m unconvinced at this point he is a good inspirational thought leader as my sister still hasn’t recovered from some of his removals from her life.

I go down stairs and take a Vitality Supplement. Stroke the dogs and then return upstairs. I’m on route to meditate but I will just stick my head through the door briefly.

“Daddy I just want to thank you for letting my sister and I store our possessions for free for so long. It was my and I think her impression that this was a gift to us and not a problem but clearly things have changed and as such will need resolving. I appreciate your bringing clarity to this situation and thank you again for your past kindness.”

I go upstairs to the second bedroom where I am camped and looks a little like a tornado rolled through it. I turn on my heated blanket and climb onto bed to meditate. As the warmth envelopes me I realise that if I get taken out by Corona everything will get chucked anyway. So I pen a further note to parents via WhatsApp.

It reads “I should be dead in a month, why not wait until then when you can throw everything out with far less stress”

Mother replies – “Relax”

I meditate.

Reiki practitioner is kindly giving me long distance reiki and did yesterday. She asks how I am getting on.

And yes, I’ve realized that pushing a bolder up hill in terms of trying to get someone / FFF to fuck you really isn’t my style. In some ways, the challenge was to get him, and now that I know I have I can step back. If he really wants me he sill need to work I’m for it as I’m a high value individual on borrowed time and life is too short for people who don’t appreciate me for who I am…

Friday the 13th & a Tinder Date…

I’m on a date! And, dear reader with the onset of Corona Virus, and who knows it might be my last… But no! I won’t have this negativity! It’s bad enough that a disease which is taking out those with ‘existing medical conditions’ (me) and those with ‘suppressed immune systems’ (me) has the same name as what used to be a delightful summer beverage served ice cold with a slice of a lime wedge in the kneck of the bottle, is killing people! It’s also ruined my non-existent social life.

The country is gripped by fear, and panic buying has set in with the shelves of loo roll empty (why?) and pasta (are people that lazy?) empty and the radio filled with barely disguised ‘keep calm and carry on’ rhetoric. (Which in 6 hours will dissipate as the Government does a spectacular U-turn and bans mass gatherings – without clarifying if this more than 4 people or not…) If someone had written this up you wouldn’t have believed it never mind wanted to read it, but probably someone did and maybe right now as I type he/she is probably thrilled as their bank account fills up from their self-published kindle sales. (As it happens Amazon is overwhelmed by the number of self-published books coming out as people try to make a quick buck off the crisis – self-help manuals cobbled together from online articles alongside cookery books on how to make hand sanitizer – Amazon is trying to take the really rubbish ones down but it’s a full-time job and hand sanitizer is being listed for £160 for tiny 30ml as panic spreads.)

This is an odd time to be alive and although I feel blessed to be alive – thanks to my anonymous deceased donor – I am also more than aware of the fact the world we are living is daily becoming darker and more dangerous as the things that may kill us, become invisible and more stealthy.

I never wanted a child until a doctor told me that having children would be difficult, ‘if not impossible’ and now, years later I am realising that I am unapologetically realising that my desires are not unreasonable for a 35-year-old. However, what world would I be bringing a child into? What can we not predict or see? What may be yet out to get us?

And yet, I digress. The country is in the beginning days of a pandemic and yet I find myself in a Cornish pub, an authentically naturally themed 17th-century watering hole, which by the way is packed, waiting for a Tinder date. (We can only assume that the ‘packed’ nature of this establishment is encouraging  people to make a last ditch attempt at socialisation before we are all told to self-isolate.)

“Tinder date?!”

Yes. I realise I should have given it up as a bad app, with most men on it wanting a quick fuck, but now that enough seem to genuinely want something with more depth I decided to give it a second chance. And while aimlessly scrolling I happened upon ‘Jonathon’ (not his real name) and thought – ‘wow’. He may, of course, be one of those people who photographs well and yet in real life is unattractive yet his bio was worthy of a second read-through and complimented his pictures.

“.. 5’11 (we will see!) And I work in films…. Not very glamorous… (modest – or brutally honest)… A lot of geek… (oh meow…) bad action movies (I wonder which ones) video games (oh dear…) the natural world (David Attentbrough fan I hope!) travel (Yay!)  and photography to name but a few. Easy going and often found in London or Switzerland. A sucker for pretty eyes (hmmm… well mine do have magical powers…)”

The only issue is that he is ‘London based’ – but London is but five hours, one scenic rail journey away, and let’s be frank, what would there not to be like about a girl in Cornwall? A holiday and a fuck? Go on then… But I am too hopeful, and I must curtail my optimism before it flies away with me and up too close to the sun.

“But what about Fit Family Friend?”

Oh, dear friend, he is not forgotten. But he categorically told my mother he couldn’t and wouldn’t have another child, it was too stressful, and in that last message he sent, although he said he ‘adored you and your family’ the fact he hasn’t got it in him to step up and take me to bed… Well, what can she do? As my life coach (who works pro bono with me in the hope I will make good one day) says, if ‘he isn’t man enough’. And dear reader I can’t wait around forever in the hope that just maybe he will step up. My life as you know is one with no guarantees, no sureness of longevity and I need to make the most of every moment. I want him, so much, but he doesn’t value me above a few good lunches and dinners social engagements and meals, so, for now, I must focus on my health and my own pleasure.

This is backed up by the fact that for Christmas, I gave my sister a ‘Tarot Reading Course’ for Christmas and on Wednesday she did me a love reading… Well, well. It was quite remarkable in its accuracy! For I did come to the realisation the other day that I really did need to make myself self-sufficient before I can be seen as a feasible option as a life partner. I come with a brilliant credit rating, and since the whitening, teeth which I think aren’t half bad, so if you ignore astigmatism and vulnerability to an infection, I am a reasonable catch.

But – living off disability benefit, knowing that often days are written off due fatigue, and there are no certainties in whether I will work today, tomorrow or the subsequent days and hours afterwards, means that realistically I need to get my side hustle on in a big way.

I have plans. Many of them. Maybe too many. But I am not prepared for things to remain as they are. If for no other glaring obvious reason being that I am yet to find the miracle supplement which will replenish my energy levels and leave me the Duracell bunny of energy I desire to be.

But back to the date. Scary. Exciting. Bizarre.  But why the fuck not?

When I look back, whenever I might be, I do not want to say, “I wish I had…’. No regrets. It’s the promise I made to my organ donor. To her memory and I won’t let her down. Ever.

7:13 pm Friday 13th of March 2020 – 13 is my lucky number… Do I believe in magic?

7:16 pm

Ah. First impressions?

A little chubbier than his profile and if that’s 5’11 it may have been in heels…. Now – now – stop it! Give him a chance!

Two hours later I step back into the dark wet night gently warm from the laughter that has filled my lungs in the past duration of time.

He wasn’t the man I wanted to be opposite, but he was nice. He was kind and he was amusing. And, I must keep trying to move on…

Of course, what I also thought for much of it was, quite simply that, he wasn’t Fit Family Friend.. but there is not a lot I can do about that is there?

11:30 pm

I don’t believe it. Really?

Fit Family Friend: Why have you gone so quiet? I miss your messages.

WHAT? Really?

My immediate response is to carry on reading my most recent self-help book and ignore him for a week as he has me. But another part of me wants to be brutally honest and lay it out so he can understand clearly the situation.

What I want to send:

“In the past 8 plus months, you have flip-flopped backwards and forwards as to how you see and want to be with me.

At the end of the day, I told you regardless of what happened between us nothing would ever change the family friendship we share and even gave you the evidence-based on past histories of our families.

You told me that as much as you cared for both me and my family nothing could be risked as you wouldn’t respond well to any situations that might arise as they would affect you and make you cold and distant.

Finally, after our last honest message exchanges, you insinuated that when alone we might fool around – something I was more than fine with – and understanding of it would be just that – ‘fun’ no commitment – no drama – just two people being young and enjoying each other’s bodies. As nothing happened, I realised that you must have decided that that part of our friendship was done. (Parties and events not included).

For me – life is for living for the moment – because to be blunt – I don’t know how long I have with this new organ. And as one of those who is both ‘immune-suppressed’ and has an ‘underlying health condition’ both of which make her vulnerable to the recent pandemic – and bluntly now making it I would rather have experience then have regrets – but your life is different – you will live a long time and I shouldn’t need to push a boulder uphill when it comes to some fun and frolics. Either someone is in or they aren’t.

I haven’t therefore been sending any flirty or lingerie shots as I thought that might be considered being a ‘tease’ and that’s not me.

I’m not looking for a relationship with you – I know we want very different things – and what I value more than anything else is our friendship, so I felt stepping back while you were so busy was the best recourse.

I care about you greatly. And don’t want to confuse our friendship with mixed messages – you mean too much to me to do that. X”

This, of course, would be overkill.

For one thing, is that what he means? He misses the provocative shots I used to send him? That’s where my mind immediately goes, but what if I am wrong, and he just means the nice landscape Cornish seascapes I have been sending him. It’s unlikely, but it would seem totally over the top if that wasn’t what he meant. Instead of responding immediately in the knee jerk responses of old I went to sleep.

But I woke early and bit the bullet.

[6:27 AM, 3/14/2020] Daisy: Hey you, how is it all going? Can you clarify which messages you are referring to please? Cornish seascapes or other art shots? 😉

Hours pass and the ticks go blue, but nothing…

[1:37 PM, 3/14/2020] Daisy: And don’t overthink your answer – there will never be a wrong answer with me x

There are two options for his reply, and one will get the first text, the long honest response which he could do with hearing, and the other will get some nice pictures of Cornwall. She hopes he goes for the first, because at least then they can move on with their lives. One way, or another…

Of course – now – at 3:26pm – four blue ticks later, she realises that she will probably have to wait a week to find out his answer…

Coronavirus is ruining my life

Daisy, immune suppressed is likely to be over of the first victims of this innocuous but deadly disease. And if that wasn’t bad enough, it now looks like she will have to self isolate immediately and miss out on going to yoga. Yoga which in the past few weeks has been a source of great comfort to Daisy. In fact any social gathering is now a risk and Daisy is more than aware of the fact if FFF had known the end of the world was coming perhaps he might have been a little more forthcoming to a fumble last time they saw each other.

However, as her life coach pointed out today, you shouldn’t have to push a Boulder up a hill inn terms of getting someone to want to sleep with you. So although Daisy thibgs he is drop dead gorgeous, she has also taken a step back and realised she is almost a catch herself to him. Twelve years his junior, with one degree and a master’s under her belt, a self published author of two successful books, she’s really not someone too just be overlooked as her has.

The ‘erotic photos’ (sexy pictures) that she enjoyed sending and he delighted in receiving must stop. He needs to miss her. To feel her absence and how can that happen when she keeps being so friendly and nice?

The priority over the coming weeks must be, ‘staying alive’, but alongside that, not contacting FFF comes a close second. Daisy can’t stop from being infected but she can stop being over Keen. Top tip she thinks to herself as she climbed into bed that night. Crossing her fingers she can do this…

‘Texts he can’t resist’ experiment…

I’m a huge fan of Mathew Hussey and his no nonsense approach to dating but will his ‘report’ on texts a man can’t resist work, or just make FFF think I’ve lost the plot?

Start time 3:15 pm today –

He reads the message… and then…
Oh fuck. Well that went well!

He had his son with him yesterday!
I’m so embarrassed 😞
Why didn’t I realise that? Me with my frivolous hamburger 🍔 messages and then I had gone and sent a voice message asking for advice… idiot.
I want to curl up and die. But instead I will archive his message and pretend I don’t send anything.
Fuck. Why can’t I just leave things alone?

The foundations of friendship…

Tuesday was lovely so why is his text so disappointing? His text at least tells her he had a nice time. And aren’t ‘nice times’ the foundations of friendship? Why then does she feel so disappointed? :/

It’s not love in the romantic sense, but his text at least tells her he had a nice time. And aren’t ‘nice times’ the foundations of friendship? That’s what his text says this evening – but…

But today there was nothing in terms of the intimacy she had hoped for. Barely a hug. And one which wasn’t long enough either! Oh world, why? Why must you confuse me so? I was so sure, so stupidly optimistic that FFF would kiss me yesterday and I would feel those soft lips, feel electricity pass between two bodies as we stood so close, and skin touched skin. I had imagined the warmth of those big strong hands as they explored me, the sensation of their intimacy with me, and how I would be filled with excitement and desire.
Indeed I had every reason to expect something. His messages over the past few days have been suggestive and full of possibility. So much so I even put on the pink mesh bra with the black lace trim. It’s nothing hugely special, not in the league of Agent Provocateur but it’s thin and in the coldness of outside temperatures my nipples would stand erect and proud, standing to attention calling to be noticed. It was a stupid thing to do, I now realise that every time I put ‘nice’ underwear on for this man, nothing happens. Boxing day was the same story. My in crotchless black lace knickers and a dress with a gold zip down the front, complemented by knee-high black boots with heels which made them perilous to walk in but looked the dog’s bollocks and allowed me to be awarded the compliment of looking like ‘Emma Peel’. Meow!
I might as well have worn a dust bin bag and a brown paper bag over my head that night such was the success of said outfit. Why didn’t I learn then?
He arrived late yesterday. But we drank coffees and discussed moving and boxes with my mother in the kitchen as time steadily ticked on and I wistfully looked forward to us being alone.
We walked across to the outbuilding and as I led him in my sound system played some Ibiza chill out in the background giving the warehouse the ambience of themed party space with a hidden bar. His eyes were everywhere, taking it in, getting an idea. Thinking, analysing. Considering.
I told him about my plans. My ideas. My goals and he listened attentively, with those delicious eyes fully focused on me. I sometimes think he sees me now. Sometimes. Then he took out his tape measure and started measuring things. My mind darted back to his message only a few days before.
“I bet we can find other uses for a tape measure…”
I love watching him at work, ducking down, reaching up, measuring this analysing that. He pauses, and looks hard at me, trying to gauge how open I am too new ideas.
“So don’t judge me for suggesting this but have you considered…”
I giggle.
“I think we are past that point aren’t we?” and I giggle.
He smiles, before proceeding with his idea and I listen attentively trying not to let my thoughts slide off in more dirty directions. What is it about this man I know so well, and yet not at all? Why do I feel so easy in his company? So ready to tear off my clothes and his, and jump on him. Pushing him against a wall, and letting my hands have free roam to explore ‘that body’.
His suggestions are sensitive and now we are at the dissembling part of the day. He crawls under the table and lies on his back unscrewing a screw, and I look down on him and try not to fantasise about riding him. Slowly at first, enjoying the filled sensation and then with a more gyrating action allowing his shaft to find my sweet spot, at which point I will poise and linger, waiting for just a fraction of a moment so that we both know where we are. How much he is inside me. How much I am filled. How sweet is this sensation for both of us?
A screw falls out and narrowly misses his eye, so I go downstairs to measure things and move boxes.
It’s a day of unscrewing, moving, lifting, negotiating tight corners. But at all times, we are a team. We communicate we chat, we laugh, I giggle. We are super productive and I am obscenely happy. A friend phones and I leave the building to tell him that FFF is lying on the floor under a table.
“I am so happy!” I tell him. “So happy!”
We work for hours. We achieve so much. And then as the rain has held off I suggest a walk. Then we are out walking on the fields, him skipping over the muddy piles as he doesn’t have any wellington boots, and I mock him teasingly. Amused that someone who has half a foot in the county could be missing something so important in his wardrobe. The skies open and hale attacks us like tiny bullets horizontally hitting us, but it’s no biggie and we stride on with enthusiasm for the elements.
By the time we reach the beach, the sun is setting spectacularly and FFF skims pebbles across the calm waters to the excitement of the dogs. I watch him, silently thankful he is so easily contented by such simple pleasures and take a photo in my mind for later, and a photo on my phone for my personal records. I want to mark this day out, a special day when it was just us, a tantalising tease of what it could be like, what we could be if he realised who I could be to him. Who we could be together.
There is still time for a fumble! We could still fit it in! There is pool to be played, and I don’t want to sound awful but if he just had one beer, he might relax enough to take a chance, to take a liberty, to take a moment with me… But no. He is the ultimate Captain Sensible.
“I absolutely agree,” I say. “I couldn’t live with killing someone..”
“Oh it’s more than that!” he replies.
“I couldn’t live with the fact I had ended someone else’s life and also that is could have been that ‘one beer’, that one beer that affected me, and caused me to lose control…”
He is standing across the pool table, cue in hand, so tall, so solid, so ridiculously smoking hot. Unbelievably sensible. Possibly to my detriment it now seems. ‘Lose Control’? How I wish he would just ‘lose control’ with me.. Wouldn’t I just eat that up if it was with me? When we leave the pub, it’s freezing outside and as we zip uptight, with our many layers, many layers, I realize with every layer I have put on my flesh is getting further away from being felt…
The last time we walked back to the house, he playfully bumped into me, but there is none of that tonight and as we progress closer and closer to the cottage I feel disappointment building.
I almost want to say – “But, you said…” but of course I don’t. I can’t say anything. Because this is what he said he would do, step back, so as not to jeopardise ‘what we have’ with the family he ‘adores’.
Back inside my mother conscientiously leaves us alone in a room together while she goes to fetch some things for him and me, exhausted from the day’s activities and disappointed from the lack of everything resign myself to sitting on the side of one of the sofas. He towers above me every once in a while those eyes meeting mine. But it’s almost as though he is frozen, unable to move and so there we stay in our separate sections – the chasm between us growing larger by the moment.
I walk him to his car and finally, it’s time for a hug. I lean up and in, and as our two bodies collide I desperately wish we were some wear warm and his torso was burning next to my flesh. I give him a peck on the cheek and him to me, and reiterate “I am here for him if he ever needs anyone to talk too…”
He seems to chuckle at that, nods his head and ducks around to the other side of his mother’s car he has borrowed to come here and starts to get in. I’m frozen to the core and scamper back inside. As the door shuts behind me, I lean back against the wall and swallow the choked tear of disappointment.
“Grow up!” I tell myself.
He is being so sensible. You know he is.
But I’m not in the mindset of sensible. When you know how fragile life is. When you know at any point that it can all be snatched away, you don’t hesitate when it comes to matters of the heart.
He hasn’t been where I am. He hasn’t stood on the edge, not knowing if tomorrow will come. He doesn’t know what it’s like to lose people you love because your mind is so clouded with toxins your personality changes and you forget yourself and what you said a moment ago.
One day we may be old. Unable to fuck and if he then realises, then realises, that I, in fact, was someone he should have spent more time with? Then he has wasted the ‘here and now’. And that, for fuck sake is all we have!
I suppose I’m angry that he doesn’t realise what I do. Doesn’t understand that sex, beautiful and glorious that it can be, is actually just an animal act of pleasure unless two people love each other, and if, just if we did connect at least we would both be enjoying pleasure with someone we liked and trusted.
I don’t text him. I am to be frank, speechless. Disappointment turns out is a heavy experience in my world.
Finally, at 5:24 pm:
“So the TV is amazing. Set up and working with the remote. Now we have a 1080 True HD picture so much better than the old small 720 screen. Thank you for your time yesterday. Lovely to work, walk and chat.”
‘Lovely to work, walk and chat’? Jesus. Imagine how we could have pushed the envelope out if we had ‘worked, walked, kissed, fucked and…’ Oh, I sound a malcontent! But we had the whole of the store open to us! At any point, we could have ‘somethinged’… Instead ‘nothing’.
I reassure myself with the fact that at least to, ‘work, walk and chat’ are great foundations for friendship.
The thing about not knowing how long you have, and having been so close to death is that you take nothing for granted. You know that moments are for the taking, that at any second, all this, even if it’s little could be snatched from us. Coronavirus fills the papers. Hasn’t he realised that if it reaches the South West, we who are immune-suppressed probably won’t make it? For fuck sake – he is putting his stomach above her! He doesn’t want to ruin nice lunches, great dinner party, hearty walks by fucking the daughter of close friends… 
She wishes she didn’t mind. She wishes she didn’t care. But she doesn’t wish she wasn’t where she is now. This has all stemmed from a few texts over a year ago and the not knowing of his attraction to her. At least, whatever happens now she knows he does fancy her and he is just being sensible. Maybe, maybe this is good? Like someone deciding not to sleep with their date on the third date?  Maybe the longer they wait, the better the sex will be when they have it? ‘When’ they have it. Even if it’s shit, she will sleep with this man. Feel him inside her. She hasn’t given up yet. 
I flick through my Audible library and settle on ‘The Law of Attraction’. Abraham starts speaking.
“And we say use affirmations!”- I nod my head. Here we go I think – let’s affirmation this man into my bed…

A bizarre twist to the story!

So happy! Thank you angels for looking after me!