The week of death & tears

I never thought George Michael would be dead this year.

Nor General Organa.

Or her mother.

Let alone all the others we’ve lost this year. Bowie. Prince.

They say that losing all your favourites is a sign that you’re getting older. Maybe I am.

But what happens when some of those that you’ve lost were before their time?

Antov Yelchin.

And then what age is too young? I consider anything under 70 young.

Because that’s just the way it is. A full life is someone dying in their 80’s. Or at least late 70’s.

So with that in mind, when a friend posted this link to a tribute to Carrie Fisher as Leia Organa I had to share. Because thinking about her and Debbie Reynolds still tears me up. Add in George Michael and I turn into a sobbing mess.

So in light of that, here’s something that was wonderfully written and imagined.

Vale you bright souls.

Leia Organa: A Critical Obituary – Because you’re always being judged

I’m dancing with the freaks too Georgie… We’ll miss you on the dancefloor at Mardi Gras…


Round the world adventures – Part 1 The landing

I’ve been missing a while…

It’s because I went on a round the world adventure.

Hopped on a plane from Sydney to Zürich, to Istanbul to Antalya in Turkey.

Mum was waiting for me after a 32 hour flight and 4 planes later. Why does no one ever mention that buying a round the world trip means that instead of having the most direct flight, you kind of travel backwards and forwards until you get to your destination? Instead of a direct flight from Singapore to Istanbul, I got to see Switzerland! Maybe that’s why I was paying extra? At the end of the day though, I really did enjoy the scenic route. I’ll never buy another RTW ticket in my life ever again. Unless I’m doing shorter distances and more time in between plane rides.

Turkey was a lot different from what I remembered from my teens.

For one, there was a Starbucks at the airport so I got my coffee hit, albeit bad coffee hit and over priced for what it was…Maybe that made me more amenable? Who knows. Or possibly that I had flown for so long that I wasn’t taking any shit from anyone also helped. I also wanted a shower. Desperately.

Except when it came to customs. They made me pay 50 euro for a visa when I am a Turkish Citizen because I didn’t have my citizenship card on me. The other customs guy that I talked to after forking out a bucket-load of money was that the dude that gave me the bum steer could have looked me up on the computer. What an arsehole. At least I swore about him until I saw the Starbucks. Then I forgot about it all as I rushed to get caffeine into my system. Little did I know that it would taste like I was licking bathroom walls. Not that I know what bathroom walls taste like, but it’s what I imagine they taste like.

It’s a surreal feeling having flown half way around the world and landing in a land where many see your Australian passport and try to talk to you in broken English and then look rather shocked when you start talking back to them in fluent Turkish. However the more I travel the more I find that no matter where you go in the world, airports are all the same. They could be speaking Dutch, English, Korean, American or Turkish. People everywhere, check in check out & even customs. The carpets even match in a weird way. People pushing, shoving, connecting & avoiding your eyes. I’m a people watcher – especially when my 3DS has run out of battery and I need a break from reading my book. Istanbul’s airport felt like it was a total mishmash. Chaotic even. You fly through customs, then take a huge long walk from International terminal to domestic. At least it’s not like Heathrow where you have to take a bus to the other terminal. Or LAX. I guess I should count my blessings. It was a pleasant walk and one where I got to buy a SIM for my phone so that I could call my mama and check in to say I’m on time and on schedule.

But before I could figure out how to make the phone go, I was boarding my plane to Antalya. The land of endless Mediterranean beaches and warm weather. Considering I was missing winter for this, I prayed that it put on a good show because I bloody hate summer at the best of times. The oppressive heat and humidity are disgusting. And I can’t cuddle up to people in bed during summer. I’m a cuddler. I like koala’ing around someone to sleep. Summer negates this. And you sweat. Like actual sweat & stick together. I hate sweat. UGH.

By the time I landed in Antalya and got out of the airport and found my mama! YAY! My mama… who I’m really missing at the moment, believe it or not. I want to murder her when she’s here and miss her like crazy when she’s not. Figures.

For the first few days the weather was a balmy 30 degrees Celsius and I could go at will to the beach down the road and flob about. This pleased me greatly. I kinda like summer at 30 degrees. Then on day 3 the weather decided hell was winning and it needed to be hotter than hell itself. The temp soared between 45 degrees and 50 for the rest of the time I was in town. Fuck you summer. Just fuck you with a big rusty fork.

Note: It was hot. Very bloody hot. Super hot. To the point that leaving the house was just not done until well after 3 pm when the temp got to a point that you could leave the house without dying from heat stroke or blisters on your feet from heat coming off the ground and through ones shoes. Which meant that if I wanted to go to the beach, I had to be there really early in the morning, or quite late in the afternoon to be able to walk to the water without a hospital trip thanks to the pebble beaches along the Mediterranean coast. Or shop. Shopping was fabulous. Such cheap, many buy! But that’s another post altogether…



Me lazing under a beach umbrella enjoying my view…



The view into the mountains from the wrap around balcony at mum’s place. I tried to zoom. I may have failed. That little speck you see at the top is a Turkish flag. It made me think of how lonely the moon flag would also be… 


With all my love, Australia…

You guys know how I love to share things that make me laugh until I’m crying. And I am trying to get my shit together to write about my travels in far away lands, however it’s hard to process and write about Turkey when it all went to hell in a handbasket and the feels this gives me. So until I can write about it, here’s something to give you some giggles too.

With love, from the land down under…

The title of the article I yanked this from made me laugh just as hard:


Pride Festival – Istanbul 2016

You know, I was walking around Istanbul on Sunday – Taksim to be precise – when my friend and I noticed something a bit different. There were riot police everywhere. In groups of 5 – 10, 20-50, with gas masks on top of their heads, their machine guns in their arms and a searching expression on their faces as they sized you up as you walked past.

As we walked some more towards the main drag of Taksim, we noticed that there weren’t just riot police, but regular police, water tanks, riot vans, something looking like a tank and a whole bunch of vehicles and men in uniform everywhere. Being that this is Turkey in 2016, we got a bit worried about what might be about to go down. Was there a bomb threat? Should we be clearing out? But it didn’t look like anyone else was moving out of the way, so we trundled along and tried to take “sneaky” picture of the police without them realising as they had filled every side street along the main drag with police vehicles and actual officers.

We walked some more and got a bit more worried as we were pretty sure that the entire Istanbul police force were here. In full regalia. We thought the worst. Instead my friend decided to call her cousin who, bless her, was like the gossip spring of Istanbul. We asked what was going down, do we need to clear out ASAP? Are we in danger?

Her reply was rather a shock to me…

Oh no. Today is meant to be the Pride march and they are all there because the government has told the queers they aren’t allowed to march. I stood still for a minute and did a 360 degree turn. Just to take in the amount of police presence to stop a pride march.

I took a deep breath. And I let it out again.

Mardi Gras at home is so liberating. It’s so full of love, light and laughter. I never in my wildest dreams thought I would be in the middle of a march for my fellow queer people and have to go up against so many police officers who were given the right to use gas, water and anything else they could get their hands on to stop you from marching.

This is the police presence in Sydney during Mardi Gras, they actually march in the parade to show solidarity, queer or not –

Police Mardi Gras

2016 – Sydney Police Force marching in GLBTIQ Mardi Gras

And yet, in Taksim, this is the reality of the police presence

#Pride2016 Yasak Ne Ayol! LGBTİ Onur Yürüyüşü#Taksim#Polissaldırı

A photo posted by EYLEM NAZLIER (@eylem.nzlr) on

I tried to comprehend why, why a bunch of queers warranted such a heavy presence. Were these people harming others? Were they stealing? Were they tearing the fabric of reality apart? What could they have possibly done, apart from be who they are, that could garner such a harsh reaction from the people that are meant to be protecting the citizens – not terrorising them?

It brought tears to my eyes to look up and see people stealthily hanging pride flags from their windows. There were rainbows slowly popping up everywhere and still the crowd didn’t really hold many queers.

To our surprise out of nowhere a bunch of people started to walk with rainbow flags, standing tall, standing strong – and I thought. Fuck. The whole police force of Istanbul against 20 young gay youths.

I’m not sure if there were more people that marched in different groups all along the Taksim main thoroughfare, but we only saw these guys before we decided to keep walking.

It breaks my heart that LGBTIQ pride marches around the world are still subject to this form of harassment and intimidation. That gay kids around the world would still rather commit suicide than come out to their religious leaning parents. That anyone would or could harm someone else because of who they fall in love with.

This was not the Istanbul that I was expecting to confront of this day. It wasn’t the Istanbul that I wanted to see. What I wanted to see was an Istanbul that was all inclusive. That didn’t march to the beat of Erdogan’s drum. That let pride marches go freely without gassing, water cannoning or beating my fellow queers up with batons.

Instead what I found myself in was a huge pile of doo-doo that pulled my heart strings, that made me realise how lucky I am as an Australian Turk that I can march without fear of getting a baton to the face for just being in the street during a pride march – let alone because I’m queer.

What I am going to focus on is that the new batch of children that are growing up will eventually replace these dinosaurs that are in power. They will start to run our governments and make laws that are progressive instead of divisive & hate fuelled.

And until that day I’m going to try not to weep for my fellow queers, that despite the resistance and unlawfulness of being who they are, that they keep on marching.

Chin up. Tits out.

March my loves, march.




My American Addiction

Ok, so obviously everyone is keenly aware that I have a very high burning love affair with that great big country over yonder blue.

So while I’m slowly selling every inch of my soul to my job to build up enough leave to go back to travel some more, I had been hungering for all the different kinds of delish yumyums that you can get when you’re State-side.

And then I happened upon a site that sold all the bad things you can eat over there HERE! YES HERE!

I couldn’t contain my excitement and may have done a wee dance of joy around the house squealing. Then sat down and ordered a whole bunch of stuff (from sauces, creamer for my coffee, drinks, herbs and snacks…)

And when I arrived I also did a small dance of joy before ripping the box to shreds and literally crying at the contents.

Oh how I’d missed you french vanilla creamer! And you, sugar filled cereals! Never mind that the chippies are quite tasty too with all those flavours that we don’t get here.

Where is this place? Oh here, let me share the joy with you!

It’s right here, called USA Foods – and sometimes they even have free delivery.

It was like I’d happened upon a Plutonian emerald… the utter joy of my discovery has kept me sated for a while.

However the pull of a Texan BBQ rack is a calling. Also gumbo. And some jambalaya.

I’d sell my backup soul for a good bowl of gumbo right about now since the weather has started to turn a bit nipply.

Hmmmmmmm gumbo.

And you see, this is where I’m at right now.

Missing for weeks, return for food.


Oh ps. I got some henna done on my hand over the weekend at a friends daughters kina – which is Turkish for that girls only party you have before your wedding where instead of getting stupidly drunk and watching strippers, we instead belly dance the night away, make the bride to be cry while painting her hand in henna and then dance some more until they throw us out of the venue.

I needed to document the henna because it’s rather pretty.



When spiders veto your life

You know, I’ve never been quite the spiderphobe before. I’m pretty sure that’s not the actual terminology for it and I can hear Cern’s voice in my head squealing in utter consternation that I haven’t used the google to find the correct word as I’m having a seniors moment, but spiderphobe works so much better. OHHHHH! ARACHNOPHOBIA!!

Maybe my brain does work after all. So anyway, if you’re a spiderphobe I suggest you don’t read any further. This is totally all about the lil buggers that have ruined my life.

Now, here’s a wee bit about Australian spiders for you.

Our most deadliest one is the funnel-web. This lil shit will defend it’s space and if you challenge it, please don’t, it will rear and come at you. Now their fangs can penetrate leather shoes… because they are hard fuckers, like everything we grow out here.  The subfamily contains 35 species. All members of the subfamily are native to Australia. Yes, thanks to the spider gods for making not just one of these lovely lil aggro bastards, but 35 different subspecies. These spiders are medium-to-large in size, with body lengths ranging from 1 cm to 5 cm (0.4″ to 2″) – That was until today… when … wait for it..

Big Boy was found and handed in to be milked. I kid you not, they called the massive funnel-web Big Boy. Who the hell names these things? Why not just call it cuddly wuddly fuck I’m dying? Or Mr Fangy. So back to the point, Big Boy measures a lovely 7.5cm (that’s 2.95 inches for all of you that still refuse to use the proper way of measuring things) and was dripping venom from his fangs when found. Apparently they do that when they get their aggro on. I know, lovely.

Here’s a nice picture of Big Boy for you.

Not only are these buggers nasty if you come across them, they will kill you and the male has a more toxic venom than the female, which is why they prefer males to be handed in for milking and making of the anti-venom – which apparently there has been less and fewer people handing in the lil shits as the years go by. Because who doesn’t wander around looking for funnel webs to catch and hand in? Of course we all have a desire to die in agony. And these things can run. Also they can survive under water for quite a few hours so if you mistakenly think the fucker’s dead and you want it out of your pool. You may get a nasty surprise. This is the point where you need men around. So you can send one out to deal with it. Spider baiting. If he goes down at least you know to stay inside. Right? Right.

However onto better things, the lovely pretty Redback. The redback colonies in Australia are just amazing. These guys are really pretty to look at, they even shine. Like no, really. They do. Their bites will kill the young and elderly and sick. And hurt like a bitch. However mostly they aren’t aggro like the funnel webs. They tend to build nests and populate at an exponential rate. They seem to love living around our houses and inside them if you let them. It kills its prey by injecting a complex venom through its two fangs when it bites, before wrapping them in silk and sucking out the liquefied insides. Yummo! What I find awesomely cool is that Redbacks will nom on their mate during coupling. Yup, she eats him. How bloody cool is that?!

"Big Redback 8MP" by Stuart Edwards. - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Commons.

Big Redback 8MP” by Stuart Edwards. – Own work.

And in the Australian outback they are oft found hiding in dunnies (see above) – they do like warm spots and generally they are tiny. Compared to the size of the other spiders this one is like a mini-me of the spider world. But packs quite a wallop with its bite and venom for its wee size issues.

Now the issue is that last week, I advised Cern that I wanted to ride my bike. He quite happily told me that there were redbacks all over it. I’ve since been patiently waiting for him to de-redback my bike so I can ride it. Granted, I could go out there and re-home them one by one. However, him being the biologist, should have the honour no?


I’ve been throwing up the idea of getting a tattoo of a redback on the back of my thigh. I haven’t gone ahead with it as yet – but at some stage I probably will because I think the female redbacks are glorious in the darkness with that bright red stripe. It warms my heart a bit.

In the mean time, I’ll keep waiting for him to re-home the redback colony on my bike so I can ride it. Although to be fair, the weather in Sydney has been utterly shit. It reminds me of New Orleans mid-summer. High temps, high humidity so that my hair does it standing on end thing and then wham, rain for a week but it’s still hot. Fuck the tropics. I thought this weather was meant to be for Queenslanders! The urge to migrate further south is enticing me. Melbourne is such a wonderful place.

Plus my sick cat would benefit muchly. And possibly cost me less in vet bills. The poor bub has been really rather ill since Christmas so I’ve been dealing with him quite a lot. I have to inject him subcutaneously with fluids every day and make sure he has half a tablet of antibiotics in the morning and another half at night. I’m meant to pump him full of 175ml of fluids from a baggie, but at the moment I can only get in 100 since he refuses to let me jab him twice a day with a needle. I would make an awesome vet nurse. If they didn’t mind me crying along with the animal that is. There were lots of tears on both sides while Cern tried to comfort me while also making sure that my kitty didn’t move and dislodge the butterfly needle in his back while I cried and still kept pumping him full of fluids. It was all rather traumatic. I’m happy to say that we have less of the tears now, 3 weeks in than we did in the beginning. Sick animals make one very stressed.  We are sort of getting him better, but we’re having weekly checks and blood works to make sure that he is going the right way and his quality of life is good.


Here’s my wee boy – Monty


One from the vault…

While I try to work myself silly through the Christmas period this year, I thought I’d have a troll through my blogs past. And this one made me giggle. Because it’s still true.

Love & Hate, it’s a short list…

You know, jet lag.

My brain isn’t capable of much at the moment, however after reading posts from some of my favourite womans’ Aussa & Beth – I figured that answering questions is easy!! 21 things I irrationally love or hate? Pshh I could go to 101. But I won’t. Because boredom. We can’t have you having it.

So without much ado….

21 things I irrationally love or hate

  1. Rope – and not just any rope it has to be natural fibre. Jute preferably. Or even Italian linen, hemp and coconut rope gets my juju humming like a little bullet vibrator. Oh yes. As much as I love tying myself and other people up in it, I love conditioning it, I love working the oils into it, I love the smell, the texture, the beautiful beautiful marks it leaves on one’s skin…

    Futomomo Marks

    Futomomo Marks – from Andersmcm’s Tumblr

  2. Cockroaches. Why? These things live through nuclear holocausts, that should be telling us something. Apart from that they are ickky and make me want to vomit. And I once woke up to one crawling along my arm, granted I had fallen asleep in my friends backyard due to a late night party we’d had and err … look the point of this is that I woke up with one crawling on my arm and I totally forgot how drunk I still should have been and ran around screaming like a banshee flapping my arms and yelling that I want to die because I’d been contaminated by feral mutant roach germs. Moral of the story? I hate the fuckers and I hate it even more when they are in close proximity to me.
  3. Nature. Ahhhhhhhh nature. I love you. Yet I hate you. I love how green  you are in peektures. Yet when I rush off into the middle of nowhere to roll around and absorb the green happy vibes, you let me get lost and eat spider-webs in my haste to get un-lost and find water. I love your frozen waterfalls, yet hate that I end up sliding down the icy stairs on my ass because the soft snow on top is hiding your secret. I guess if I were to ever come back as anything, I’d want to be you. Because you’re beauty and evil cruelty make me so happy. When it’s not me bouncing down the snowy ice stairs on my ass squealing.
  4. Cat & dog videos Animal Videos. You know the ones, ones of Maru are priceless. The one of my cat playing with my housemates dog, even more cute. They make me laugh and cry in equal measure. Something about animals. You know. Like the squirrel that likes to hide its nuts in the dog’s coat.

    Continue Reading

Dreams, reality or somewhere in betwixt…


I still haven’t resolved my feelings about letting my partner impregnate his friend – I think. Some days my answer is yes. Some days it is still no. We are waiting to find a relationship counsellor that suits us both as yet. I’ve left it to him to pursue and get back to me as the counsellor that I put forward can’t see us.

In amongst this time I decided I wanted to change forms of contraception because the pill, after taking it for 20 odd years, was getting tiresome and the effects it had on my body were getting even worse. Yes it might ease my pain during periods but at the same time it took away my sexual urges, it increased my weight and trying to remember to take something every day was getting irksome. So I stopped and talked to my GP about other methods that were available to us as obviously Cern and I are totally not at a point in our relationship where we want more little Cern’s running around. The GP pushed for implanon, I advised that I wanted to go the route of less hormones – she advised that with PCOS that wasn’t such a great idea. I told her that I don’t care, I’m tired of fake hormones fucking with my body. I need to deal with my pain and find other ways around it. I need her to find me a way that I wouldn’t get pregnant. I walked out the Drs surgery with a prescription for implanon and not much else. I wanted an IUD as it was probably the easiest option in regards to insertion and then forgetting about it but she kept saying that it wasn’t the best option for me. I figured I would try to get a referral to a Gyno from another Dr and deal with an IUD at that point.

In amongst all this, I started to get really sore breasts. Not like when I was pregnant in my 20’s. This was a different kind of pain, it started from just on the outside and worked its way into the nipple. It felt like someone was scratching the skin beneath it in a way, yet at the same time a squeezing sort of agony. I put it down to my getting off the pill and my body telling me that I was going to bleed. For the second time within a month. Welcome to the lovely land of PCOS. And I did finally bleed. Right after we got back from our road trip to Victoria. My dreams of babies grew and my boobs still ached. I cried at cats on YouTube and to be honest, I cried at people laughing, talking, being sweet to each other and children dancing. Let’s just say I cried at everything. Which, as per my not being on the pill, is totally normal way of being when I’m about to bleed. Except the 4th day of my period I was doubled over in excruciating pain at work and wondered if the pain was really this bad all the time or if this was some “bitch, you took the hormones away and you’ll pay” kinda deal with my ovaries. I stayed at work. I did message Cern at some point and say that my uterus was trying to expel itself from my body because that’s how painful it was. People at work started to say I looked pale and noticed me hunched over my desk of breathing deeply through certain points. I got through the day and got a UberX home because I couldn’t really walk very far and the thought of catching a bus and a train and then walking home was beyond me.

The next day I didn’t go to work. I stayed in bed and felt sorry for myself because of the agonies I was in and the amount of blood-letting happening. I did go to the Dr to get a certificate for work and he made me have a blood test after I told him that this was my 2nd period in a month – the first being the one I had when I came off the pill. He gave me a certificate for work and told me he’d call me if he needed me to come back once my results were in. He called me 2 days later and asked me to come back to see him. Cern came with me while I went in to see said Dr. He told me my blood tests were rather confusing as my hCG levels were sitting at 15 which means that usually pregnant, but my bleeding means that I’m probably not so he said I was possibly half pregnant. I may have looked rather blankly at him. Ummm what?

He took out a piece of paper that explained exactly what that meant….

hCG levels and I was the 2nd one.

  • non-pregnant women – less than 5 milli-international units per millilitre (mIU/ml)
  • pregnant women, about 3 weeks after the last menstrual period (LMP) – 5–50 mIU/ml
  • pregnant women, about 4 weeks after the LMP – 50–500 mIU/ml

I was like, ummm wait. What? Back up a bit. What do you mean I’m half pregnant? How can I be half pregnant! I only just came off the pill! I was starting to believe Cerns infinite talk of his super sperm when it came to impregnating women. This isn’t meant to happen. I haven’t even had a month off the pill! I couldn’t be pregnant. Or remotely with parasite! I have PCOS. I said that to him, to the Dr. I have PCOS. Dr advised me that just because I have something and the general medical knowledge of how a body behaves with said abnormalities doesn’t negate the fact that you can still fall pregnant at the drop of a hat even though I’ve been told that I can’t fall pregnant after aborting my first all those many moons ago.

So somewhere along the line I had a 2nd and I didn’t even know about it that I’d lost???

Yes, he said.

<insert pregnant pause> <yes, I realise the double entendre>

So. Um. I say, what does that actually mean for me now?

He said I needed to come back in a week to have another blood test and booked me to have an ultrasound.

Oooooooooooooooooooook theeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen.

I may have walked out looking dazed and confused and possibly laughing. So somewhere along the way he gave me my very of parasite and somehow I had no idea and now it was gone because I’ve been bleeding so heavily all week but my hormones are still showing that I’m definitely pregnant. But I’m also not pregnant. I could feel it in my bones and my body. I felt lighter, different. Cern smirked as soon as we walked out of the Drs surgery and said I told you I had super sperm. I wanted to slap his smile away but I ended up laughing. In some ways I guess it was a rejoice that, yet again, the Drs were proved wrong that I couldn’t conceive successfully without IVF.

The follow-up showed that everything was well and as good as can be minus a parasite. My hormones had returned to normal levels and the Dr advised that if I wanted to have a baby then my hormones were perfect to conceive. I said, no, no thank you, we’re good for now and walked out with a referral to a gynaecologist for an IUD.

I’ve been asked if I’m OK.

And you know, for having been pregnant, not known about said pregnancy and losing said pregnancy – I think I’m doing good.

What I learned from this experience? It’s hard to mourn something you never knew you had in the first place. It’s a welcome reminder that if I do want children, I don’t have to resort to IVF after all. I learnt that I love having Cerns fingers splayed against my lower abdomen while he whispers baby mumma in my ear. As disturbing as this is to my logical self, my illogical/emotional self warms at his touch. His possession. His fingers and hand burns its heat all the way through to my uterus and it contracts all on its own.

I knew I had a fetish when it came to watching men orgasm and feeling them inside me while watching their face would bring me to the brink of coming myself. There’s something to be said about feeling a man come deep inside you, beating at your cervix, filling it as they come. It makes me a wee bit weak at the knees. The pain and pleasure it usually brings is pretty spectacular. So maybe my orgasm fetish may have evolved.

However, last week I got my IUD. No more oppsy’s for us.


Turkey basting sperm, surrogacy & pregnancy.

This is a bit more of a serious post.

Not sure I’ve made one of those in a while. But there you go.

The stage: a question, delicately posed, yet still creating a drop in my stomach and the urge to throw up. Isn’t it funny that whenever Cern says “I have something to talk to you about” that’s my reaction? Anyway.

He mentions that a while ago, long before he met me, he offered his sperm to a lesbian friend of his if she ever had need of it and wanted to conceive with her partner. What a lovely idea right? Right.

So, he said that she’d gotten in contact and wanted to claim his swimmers.

Well ok. He didn’t say it in those terms precisely. However that’s how it has stuck in my head.

And he asked me if I would be ok with it?

Uhmm. Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Nooooooooooooooooo. I asked him to give me some breathing space as I needed to sort through my reactions. They were extreme, well, extreme for me.

I didn’t want to be the bitch that denied his friend a baby so I wanted to say yes. Yet at the same time I didn’t want to see his face in her child’s everytime we saw them since they are friends and I assume there would be cross over somewhere along the way so I also wanted to say no.

How doth one throw caution to the wind and say to one’s lover, sure honey – go knock up your friend, I’m totally cool with it!

And in a way, I felt that I was being bypassed, yet again, for a partner to have a baby with someone else instead of me.

That last line is all baggage. From my ex, the baby daddy, the one who procreated with someone else while with me…

Logically, I know that it’s not true. Emotionally though, it’s really hard to deal with the fact that I just don’t feel that I can do it. I want to be at a place where this kind of thing doesn’t phase me and I can totally get behind his urge to spread his sperm to anyone that wants to have a child. I really really do. Yet at the same time it eats at me.  Why do I seem to find men that want to have babies with everyone else? Do I give off some kind of signal that makes men believe that of me?

Again, don’t answer that question. I know it totally doesn’t apply to this situation, but who ever said emotions were logical?

I guess what this whole thing brought up for me was a Pandora’s box of things I thought I had dealt with. Surprise, obviously I didn’t deal with them that well…

I still wish I could give him what he wants, but I did say that I think we should both see a relationship counsellor, because this whole thing is making me feel things that I didn’t think would ever be an issue and if anything, we might get some good communication skills out of it. He agreed and said that it was part of the process that we see a counsellor anyway. So I left him to organise a date and gave him a referral of a councillor that a friend recommended for couples counselling of relationships that weren’t “vanilla”.

In the meantime I’ve tried to sort through my knee jerk emotions and have ended up with a big ball of “I don’t know what the fuck I want” and don’t really have a way of unravelling it.


So I’m going to outline the various emotions in bullet point in the hopes that I can see some kind of pattern and pinpoint where my emotional instability is coming from:

  • Scared – scared that I’m never going to be enough for anyone and that I just don’t offer anyone anything to stay around – hello daddy baggage!
  • Unwanted – I know logically that this is a silly emotion, but it’s not one that I can dislodge. I feel like I am missing something because everyone else wants babies with everyone else and I’m like the invisible woman in the middle of the equation
  • Confused – I don’t know if I said yes what would this involve. Do we visit it every other month? Do it be a part of our lives? Or is it something that’s separate and something that he and I don’t get involved in? Do we never see it? Do we see it every Xmas? (I want to reiterate here that he said that there was a strict guideline that they’d drawn out and all he would ever be is the sperm donor – no contact, not listed as parent, not a next of kin, etc) But then it makes me feel sick to think that I’ll be saying hello to his child with someone else every time we see his friends, if we see his friends. Does that even make sense considering we have his 2 little ones every other weekend anyway yet I don’t feel like that with them?
  • Loved – he is being so patient with me on this one. He’s given me time, space and hasn’t bugged me about it. I feel like such a let down because I can’t say yes to him. I want to say yes to him yet at the same time if I did say yes and wasn’t emotionally ready to I’m scared it would break something in me.
  • Conflicted – A small part of me wants to throw caution to the wind and say yes. Do it. The other part of me is gripping on for dear life and saying no, I can’t do this. I don’t know which side to give in to.

Yeah, that list hasn’t really helped me at all.

A friend of mine said I should write it down. Process it. And I am writing, but nothing is coming to me.

I know that Cern is not my ex. I know that he wouldn’t do something this huge without my consent and knowing I am 100% OK with it to go ahead.

Yet I have that small part of me waiting for the axe to fall. Is this just a self-confidence thing? Is it because I don’t feel that I’m worth it in some way? Is it just because of dealing with an old lover who shattered me quite a few years ago?

And not long after this conversation my dreams of being pregnant started. Nearly every other night. I’d be pregnant in my head. These dreams were really not helping. Pandora’s box. I have it. I wish I could break it and find the easy solution to this problem.  But I don’t have it. And I don’t know how to deal with an answer for Cern.

Yes?                                     Or no? 



Love is

Your beautiful lover boy getting his pipboy earlier than you because he didn’t have a seniors moment and click delivery but pick up from store and because EB Games still has mine in the mail. So instead of watching me cry while he plays, he copies the files for me and waits for the game to install on my computer too so we can both play together.


My vault boy vinyl toy and nuka cola shirts not included in pic.

Awwwww! He’s such a sweetheart!


Because I'm only saying I love you to him in Turkish

This post bought to you by warm fuzzies and love.