Hi again everyone. I know, sadly, that I'm actually one of the lucky ones on here, so I feel a bit guilty for 'eek'ing at you. But last week I had to move out of the lovely place I shared with my wonderful boyfriend of 8 years, and into a houseshare because he wants kids and ended it. To give you an idea of the change I've gone through, I used to live in a very cute, Notting Hill-like part of London, England, but now I live...well, let's just say they don't make movies about parts of London like this one - at least Richard Curtis doesn't. A boy asked me for a cigarette light the other day and insisted on showing me the wounds he'd just sustained in a fight. Hmm.
I don't regret my decision, but I'm 32, living with two 26-year-olds, and a 31-year-old who doesn't know how to clean, and it feels like I'm running my life backwards. Part of me feels that maybe staying and having kids would have been easier than the stress and loneliness of the weeks since my ex told me his decision (I'm certainly doing as much cleaning up as I would with a baby....). But I know in my heart of hearts that what I've done is right. I miss my ex so very much (and he misses me too - ha!), and things are only going to get harder, so I thought I'd post this so that when things get REALLY tough, I can read your messages and feel stronger. So please, all of you, can you remind me why I'm doing this!?
Oh, and when I'm hoooked up with a gorgeous, successful, rich man who prefers exotic holidays to dirty nappies / diapers, I'll be sure to post about it and give the next generation of 'me's a glimmer of hope. The glimmer from my Tiffany engagement ring, obviously. x