wendy house

I recuse myself

12 years of being single simply MUST mean that there is something profoundly wrong with me. It’s just not NORMAL

I’m slim, healthy, and can hold down a decent job (i.e. get up when the alarm goes off and find my way through traffic jams). But, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I am completely unable to bag myself a handyman, and worse still, bizarrely quite happy being single. I’m not trying to bag myself a handyman despite wanting my bathroom upgraded with some new fixtures and fittings. Most of my friends have live-in home-improvers, my complacency just doesn’t seem to fit with what’s considered normal. There must be something wrong with me. I wonder what it is?

He looked like I imagined Heathcliffe, all those years ago when at 12 I lost myself in the book. Even a stream of famous actors had failed to live up to my imagination.  That day in our brief conversations I found him to be softly spoken, not self-preposessed,  considerate of the other people around him. The serenity round him was reminsicent of Gregory Peck. 

The collar on his large white shirt had frayed through wear. It reminded me of my sweet smelling  ruffled white bedding, softened through use, always inviting. Together the rugged good looks, slightly neglected look and serenity had a powerful gravitational force on my heart. Alas, I wasn’t looking like Lauren Bacall or Audrey Hepburn. For a moment I felt terribly tatty, wishing I had practiced the socially acceptable art of girliness so that I could do all those things that are meant to be attractive, bat long dark mascara laden eyelashes at him, step forward confidently in high heels, smile with reddened lips and glance sideways at at him though contact lenses rather than spectacles. Luckily, this suprise moment of intensley painful insecurity passed quickly with thoughts of my resemblance to the fabulously beautiful Patti Smith.

When we parted I took his hand in both of mine, smiled into his deeply dark eyes, and told him that I was certain that we would meet again.

The urban dictionary attributes my singleness to my name:
1) Intellectually attractive woman.
2) Physically attractive woman.
3) Emotonally attractive woman.
4) Attractivve in all 3 major ways, yet not you are condemned to be ‘just friends’

Person A: Oh man, she’s perfect!
Person B: Oh yeah? So are you guys dating ow what?
Person A: Nah man, she’s a total Wendy….ya know?
Person B: suxx0rz 2 b u l4m3r!!!11

Would ‘Person A’ please un-anonymise themselves…

you’re the only girl for me

We laughed together at his assertion.    It was one of the most honest expressions of closeness I’d heard then or since.  

After two weeks of dating that involved lots of

• laughter,
• sleeplessness,
• loud singing after dark,
• passionate debating of  the relative efficacies of pychological theories,
• burning of incence, nicotene and canabis

He dumped me.  

Easing the suprise with the phrase ‘you’re the only girl for me’ and  explaining that he preferred boys.   With hindsight, this explained the dearth in exchanges of bodily fluids.  

20 years later. He’s still passionate, humourful, debating, smoking, prefering boys and I’m still the only girl for him.   Only now there is even  less excahniging of bodily fluids because the boy’s grown into a christian

priest

In 1979 I realised the full implications of an electric friend.   Charged with excitement and a six pack of batteries  I wasn’t too sure where I could get my hands on an electric friend.   I  settled for some curling tongs instead.   This probably explains much of my subsequent love life.

Tubeway army sang ‘Are friends electric‘

A Sunday afternoon in Helston.

Spotty dog and I had confused Helston and Helford.   Thinking we were catching a bus to the seaside town of Helford we caught a bus to the inland town of Helston.   As we wandered through Helston looking for the coast we stumbled upon the town park.   A skateboard park with a coffee bar and dozens of fathers walking their children around the pond.   A veritable single-father-fest,   no-doubt influenced by the proximity of a substantial military base on the outskirts of town.

I managed to keep my eyes firmly on the duckies.

No dribbling.

sixty-nineth hypotheses about  the multitudinal causal factors of my singleness

Reason #69: home improvements

Getting the new    old Wendy House running smoothly is going to be keeping my hands  away from potential boy-girl naughtiness and may turn me into a bit of a bore judging by recent posts

sixty-eighth post  in a series attempting to explain the subtle complexities of my singleness

Reason #68:   Teddy bears picnic

The chorus to this well known childrens song is turning-up as auditory hallucinations in my day today.    

Once I’d manage to throttle the teddybears into silence Marc Bolan turned up singing Debora,   a much more desirable intrusive thought,    you’ll find me attempting to harmonise with the  Marc in my head,   its enough to put-off even the most soppy of suitors and definitely a downer for T.Rex fans.

Sixty-seven in a  non-conversational-style series of posts detailing many reasons for my singleness

Reason #67: conversationally challenged

I haven’t got an engaging commute story,   I haven’t got neighbours from hell stories,  in the US my food-centric conversations were decidedly below-par,  there are times when even I recognise that my conversational skills take a nose-dive,   I’m gradually realising that all the stock legitimate popular conversational topics are not part of my standard repetoire.

Sixty-sixth in a slightly opaque,   and yet slightly transparant,  series of posts detailing many reasons for my singleness

Reason #66: glass brick fascination

When I saw this wonderful glass brick wall,   with the beautiful plain font and circular windows in the door I not only photographed it,   I stood their gazing at it for minutes.   Taking in the beauty looking like a catatonic crazy woman.   This  glass wall made me very happy,    I may just go and visit it again  for a repeat performance.   Oh yes,   show me a well placed glass-brick and  who knows what soppy messes will ensue.  

Reason 65 in a slowly emerging series detailing the reasons why I am currently not diddling with anyone.

Reason #65: slow learner

An unpleasant flavour mixed with the mild dizziness of nausea and a desire to be elsewhere. What prompts such an unpleasant physical reaction? Not the graphic goriness of Sweeny Todd but the sight of a small beautiful old pub in Nottingham, Bell Inn,  where I spent many happy evenings in the early 90’s with my then intended and one enduring love. Who would have guessed that nearly 20 years later the sudden evocation of those happy memories would prompt such an unpleasant physical reaction? I begin to understand why over the years we’ve exchanged letters rather than met for lunch.

I’m a slow learner….

Sixty-forth in an in-sight-full series explaining the reasons behind my single-ness

Reason # 64: scary eyewear

Wearing Teflon Rohan trousers and a ski jacket with the hood up makes me look like I’m touting for business. While ambling home from work in the dark I notice that a car driving towards me slows up, passes, does a 3 point turn and starts to crawl the curb, matching my pace, next to me. I walk over, stoop to look into the car and give the obviously confused driver some advice. Upon seeing my scary eyewear he puts his foot on the accelerator.

sixty-third in  a sporadic Wednesday series of posts explaining  my singleness.

Reason #63: subconscious stalking.  

Geordie:   are you stalking me?
Wendy:   Probably,   but not that I’m aware of…

It is possible that one of the reasons for my singleness is that I find the excessive use of the  phrase m-kay unengaging,   maybe even irritatingly, unimaginatively, overused.     Example phone call:

Wendy:   I’d like to book a (censored) on Sunday,   is that possible?

Lady:   m-kay   (click-click-click… ….click-click-click….click……click….  click-click-click… ….click-click-click….click……click….)     m-kay….     ……m-kay…..     (clic-click… ….click-click.. ..click…. ..click)    ….mmmmmm-kay…    (click…   )

Wendy: (starts counting the number of times the Lady says m-kay because Perry Como is not providing the sound track)

Lady:   Were you thinking morning or afternoon?

Wendy: Afternoon

Lady: m-kay…. …click-click (repeat 6 times)   does 2pm work for you

Wendy:   yes

More detailed questions required the Lady to sling dozens more m-kays into the clicky Perry Como-less void.    

Aaaaaarrrrgggggghhhhhhhh…..    

On posting the reasons for my singleness.   No time to explain.  

sixty-second in  as unstructured  Wednesday series of posts explaining  my singleness.

Reason #62: easily confused.  

The not being single thing is  all way too complicated.   My theory is that when it isn’t complicated then that’s the right match for me!   Slam dunk,  I’ll know because its all effortless and unconfusing.   It will be like an atronought landing on planet Wendy.

sixty-first  in an weak weekly Wednesday series of posts explaining  my singleness.

Reason #61: limp appeal.  

Despite the well-known hobbity effect,  and a limping  Wendy being a  fairly regular  state of affairs, my limp  hasn’t induced an affair  but has induced a wobbly state.   Maybe I should just cut the falling-over part of being Wendy?  

sixtieth  in an occasionally dark Wednesday series of posts explaining  my singleness.

Reason #60: enjoys occasional gloom.  

I like being melancholic,   occasionally.   Overcast skies,   drizzle,   cold,   damp, and the like provides a familiar comforting feel.   I enjoy this occasionally.     Not all the time, just sometimes.

Fifty-nineth in an outspoken Wednesday series of posts proposing reasons for my singleness.

Reason #59: arrogant & mouthy

2 votes amongst friends can show a trend.   This trend looks like arrogant and mouthy.   Alas,   noone wants to spend a day on a desert island with me….   …Hmmmmm….  

Fifty-eighth in a  grumpy Wednesday series of posts proposing reasons for my singleness.

Reason #58: anglophile aversion

Lady@party:   my sister over there is an Anglophile,   she heard you talking in the kitchen,   you really must talk to her

Wendy: Oh (overhears the Anglophile imitating and English accent,   inaccurately overemphasing the vowel-sounds.   Decides to politely ignore the suggestion and starts conversation with interesting other-guest  )

Host:   (brings anglophile over, interrupts interesting-other-guest conversation  and introduces Anglophile.)

Wendy: Hello (returns to  listening to ijnteresting-other-guest-story)

Other-guest:   how are you? (to Anglophile)

Anglophile:   Really happy,   I’ve just got a new calendar of London with things like Red London buses on it. (looks at Wendy)

Wendy: (Silence. Effortfully applied facial-stillness. Contemplates various escape routes)

Fifty-seventh in an unfeminised Wednesday series of posts ironing out the reasons for my singleness.

Reason #57: wrinklefest

YAY

It’s official,     I’m a wrinkly and proud of it.   Looks like I have what  TV advertising calls ‘aging spots’   or are those subtle skin tones summer freckles?   I squidge my wrinkles at the organisations that attempt to sell anti-wrinkle cream and loudly chant

YAH-BOO TO YOU

My wrinkles are exuding rather-adorableness at twice the normal rate of a 43yr old to an audience that may not yet recognize their fundamental beauty.

fifty-sixth in a Wednesday-series of posts  detailing the geographical causes of my singleness.

Reason # 56: Downtown

It has been pointed out to me that I am unlikely to meet cool happening cosmipolitan dudes while I do not live Downtown.   Where all the lights are bright.   Downtown.   Even Kevin Turvey recognised the value of going Downtown.

fifty-fifth in a Wednesday-series of posts  detailing the not quite realistic causes of my singleness.

Reason # 55: fantasy land

Wendy having an absolutely fabulous time  often involves lashings of fantasy  play both  indoors and in public places.   I have met very few boys that tolerate or engage in, or better still promote  spontaneous fantasy play in public places.   They are absolutely yummy companions when I stumble across them…      

fifty-fourth in the essential-reading Wednesday-series of well-hyphenated posts  detailing the causes of my singleness.

Reason #54: touched

When I see an instruction saying “do not  touch” on something circular and raised that looks remarkably like a button,  it makes me want to push  that thing  even more.   Take this picture as an example.     Do you think I touched the button-like thing with my forefinger  like one-would press a button?  

Was the designer of the  Descarga automatica pulling my leg finger or am I still a tad too paranoid?   It’s hard to tell.   I need help with such tricky questions.

fifty-third in a Wednesday series of posts  detailing the very serious causes of my singleness.

Reason #53: delayed reaction

when my leg is pulled  

sometimes I don’t notice it for

 …. minutes ….    

especially if my knee is grazed,   which it often is…..

fifty-third in a Wednesday series of posts attempting to uncover the many mysteries of my singleness

Reason #53:  see reasons 1 though 52

I’m on Holiday in SPAIN,   Madrid,   its and exotic place,   surely you can’t expect me to write sensible reasons for being single when I’m on HOLIDAY.   You’ll have to satisfy your curiosity with a bit of re-visiting earlier gems of delightful rationality because I’m GONE.   Let’s say it together, with feeling,

GONE

MADRID

SPAIN

HOLIDAY  

(gosh,   I hope I’m alright)

fifty-second in a Wednesday series of posts  uncovering my score on singleness.

Reason #52: one strike

One strike and I’m out.   Zero tolerance for anything even approximating physical violence to another human being or a cat.   Apparantly there are some people who believe in a discourse that endorses violence by attributing it to beyond control,   to passion,   they  ’can’t help’ being violent,   they were provoked,   and so on.   What a load of complete bollocks.   Walking away is always an option for potential agressor  and often also for the  potential victim.  

fifty-first in a super Wednesday series of posts  revealing the heroic reasons of my  not currently coupling-ness

Reason #51: superhero

With a few notable exceptions  (e.g.  the Simpsons) most classic superheros are single.   Batman,   Wonder Woman,   SuperMan, Valerie Singleton,  and some popular Gods.  

fiftieth  in a Wednesday series of posts  revealing the seemingly unending reasons of my  single-ittude

Reason #   50: underwhelming in person

software developer (SD):   YOU read Raymond Chen’s blog.   Why?

wendy:   I may not understand the code but I can read his attitude,   its funny.

SD:   yeah,   if it wasn’t for Raymond I never would have discovered Jenn or Wendy

wendy:   the Piehole and the Wendy House?

SD:   yeah

wendy:   I’ve met Jenn ………….and wendy……..that’s me,   that’s me,   I’m wendy (full horror-show of yellow wonky teeth glinting in the spring sunset frightening oncoming traffic as we drive west)

SD:   YOU?   wendy,   you ARE wendy?

wendy:  yes-yes, yes-yes,    YES,    that’s MY blog.    I did it ALL myself…    … I did ask Raymond for help setting it up.   He  pointed out that working on Windows was not the same thing as being an internet website development consultant      (…sleep inducing monologue of everything I think I know about blogging)

Forty-nineth in a Wednesday series of posts challenging your suspicions as to why I am single

Reason #   49: picky, Picky, PICKY

Example pickyness,   wendy age 16yrs,   Sailor age 18yrs cutting a dashing figure in his Navy uniform.   Sailor and I started dating when I was 12yrs and he 14.   Then he just  disappeared when I was 13.    He  reappeared when I was 16 and proposed marriage.   I suspected his commitment skills were   below par for the marriage course so I suggested that we wait the 5yrs until after I’d graduated from my University degree course before having the wedding.   He pouted quite prettily then made his final disappearance.  

It is the way of things.