So, where did I leave off. I alluded, in my last memoir entry that meeting my ex-wife started off well, but then went downhill. It started off positively, as all relationships do. It was a bit of an odd one though, the night I met her, I wasn't where I was to actually meet her, if that makes sense! It probably doesn't, but I am going to explain, so settle back, get a coffee (or a beer, or glass of wine) and get ready for the story.
When I was younger, I was a fairly prolific pen-pal. It started when I was at high school, when I signed up (via my German class) to a foundation called Youth International, and I was given a German pen pal (called Sandra Dollar, as I remember, although I can't remember where in Germany she lived - we wrote to each other sporadically for a few years, but, as is my wont, I tended to leave longer and longer gaps between my replies, before just stopping altogether) which prompted me to sign up for other pen pals. One of the hard rock/heavy metal magazines of the time (the sadly missed Raw) had a section where you could sign up for pen-pals free. Bear in mind, that this was before the explosion of the WWW, white mail was still the principle form of communication. Anyway, one of the pen pals I started writing too was called Wendy, and she lived in deepest, darkest Ayrshire. After writing back and forth for a while, plans were made for a meeting, so with my best friend Ian in tow for support, we made the journey from Fife to Ayrshire in my trusty (who am I kidding, it was a wreck!) old Ford Escort. We got there eventually, and I'm not going to lie, the night started badly. Firstly when Wendy answered the door, I didn't recognise her (the door opened, this sight loomed large, and I put on my most charming smile and politely enquired "Hi, is Wendy there?" only to be told "I am Wendy...". I rescued it though, "Cool, you are in then", followed by what I hoped was another winning smile!), then to add injury to insult, as I sat down to the repast which she had prepared (and was truly awful), the chair I picked promptly collapsed under me, and I wound up falling on the dog. That pretty much set the tone for the rest of the evening. We eventually wound up making our way into town, where Ian proceeded to get merrily rat arsed (leading to an encounter which has entered into our own particular folklore - Ian had disappeared, and I needed to have a slash, I walked into the gents in the pub to find Ian hunched over a sink. "I'm not being sick" he said, just as the guy who was standing at the urinal said "Aye, that's right pal, get it out, you'll feel better for it!"), and I proceeded to largely ignore Wendy all night (mostly because she was just an awful person, she had the charisma of a fart in an elevator) and concentrated on her cousin. Had I known what the future was to hold, I'd have legged it there and then and walked back to Fife if I'd had to!
Shona and I started chatting, first on the phone, and then I agreed to make a return trip to Ayrshire, on my own this time, to spend the weekend down there, something which was to become a recurring feature for the next wee while. Initially, it was all good - we only saw each other 2 days, so it was hard for it to be anything other than fun. I'm skipping over many of the unimportant details, but eventually I wound up buying a house, and we moved in together. Almost immediately the slow, but terminal decline started. She didn't like my friends, so I hardly saw them. I had to spend time with her friends, but that deal didn't go both ways. To start with, she didn't work, but despite her doing pretty much nothing all day, I still made dinner when I got home from work (which actually worked out ok, sadly she had inherited her mother's cooking skills - that is to say, she had absolutely none), I did the housework whilst she, basically took up space.
Eventually, she wound up decreeing that we were getting married. Why did she do that? Well, I bought myself a new PC. Her logic was that I got something I wanted, she decided she wanted a wedding, I wasn't really given much more than a fait accompli. It's probably telling that as I found myself standing at the top of the aisle (sorry, geek alert, but technically, the aisle isn't an aisle. If you look at the image to the right - the shaded areas are the aisles, the central walkway is.. well, the central walkway! I'm here to educate as well as entertain!) I knew that it wouldn't work. And so it came to pass. By then, I had a reasonably senior job with British Aerospace (technically they were called BAE Systems, but they are better known as British Aerospace), which meant I was the senior buyer for a fairly large project which dealt with helicopter defensive systems. One of the side effects of this was that I needed to work away from home. A lot. A typical week for me saw me in the Edinburgh office where I was based on the Monday, Tuesday to Thursday (inclusive) I'd be in the London office, Fridays I could be in either office. On top of that I had to take regular trips elsewhere, including the US and Canada. Shona, my ex, used this time to conduct a series of illicit affairs. By that time, the internet was in full swing, and my ex used it prodigiously to, it would appear, sleep with as many of the male members of the British population as she possibly could.I found out about her infidelity by accident. I was able to conclude some meetings early, so I was able to switch my flights and get back a day earlier. I got home, came in, and she was on the phone in the bedroom, talking to her sister about whatever guy she was banging at the time, totally oblivious to the fact that I'd entered. She seemed to be proud of the fact that I was unaware of her infidelity. Needless to say she was somewhat perturbed to turn round and find me standing there. Not long after, during my next trip out of the country on business, she departed. That was the best part of 10 years ago now, and since that day, I have seen her once (she came back a few weeks later to pick up the last remaining things she wanted ). I have no desire to see her again, nor do I ever really think about her any more, beyond when I'm recounting my past for someone, or writing things like these.
Since then, my love life, and my work life, have seen ups and downs. I wound up leaving BAE, which was a mistake, and taking a job with a company called Havelock, which was a bigger mistake. I was employed to create a new sub-contract procurement department, but to say it didn't go well, is something of an understatement, so within 3 months I was handing back my company car and taking a job with a local ice hockey club, which was initially hugely enjoyable, but the good times there came to a shuddering halt when the league the team played in collapsed. I stuck it out for another year, as the team went fully amateur, but I quickly discovered that no one wants to invest in an amateur team, so after a season which saw success on the ice matched by failure off the ice in the commercial department (which was me) the owners knew I wasn't the man for the job, I knew I wasn't the man for the job, so we parted company.
By then I was involved with an American girl, who was nothing like my ex, which was the attraction I think. Sadly, however, when she got a student visa to come and live here, it was pretty clear that there were issues on both sides - she was way more controlling than I was used to (she would get stroppy if things weren't done her way, if I wasn't doing what she wanted, when she wanted it - she's since realised that herself, and is not anywhere near as bad now), whilst I just wasn't ready for another 'proper' relationship. By this point, it was about 3 years or more since my ex wife and I split, and since then I'd gotten used to living on my own, so when Michelle came to live with me, I found myself being very... withdrawn, I think would be the most suitable term. One of Michelle's constant accusations was that I was emotionally unavailable. If I'm being honest, I probably was. The issues stored up in my head from the disintegration of my marriage rose from the murky depths, and ultimately, we split up. Michelle moved back to the US, and we had at best sporadic contact for the next 18 months. Slowly however, we sort of gravitated back into each other's lives, and more or less by default, got involved with each other again. Then, Michelle, who was previously overweight, got gastriobaric surgery, lost a ton of weight, looked awesome, and then met someone else. The distance between us (in terms of geography) became more and more of an issue, as she got more and more attention back home.
I think that makes a logical point to stop for the evening. So, I hope you have enjoyed this sojurn into the ups and downs of my recent history, at least as far as my love life goes! Next time, we'll bring it up to date with what I've been up to over the past few short years. It shouldn't take long.
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