Let it be. Let it be.

I love this time of year: winter.
Winter has a way of inhabiting the early morning air. It's energy is different from the excitement of Spring when everything is new, or the lush presence of Summer; it's strong, mature and beautiful.
There's something amazing about the shift in our moods that happens in Winter. Everyone's pace seems to slow down. The uncomplicated, charged months of Summer are replaced with melancholy fragility.

I spent most of this Summer in a dizzy haze. In a frantic pursuit to fill it with as many memories as I could. Most of it was so frantic, that I was unable to enjoy it. For most of it, I felt like I was somewhere else.
It's a common theme for me - when I feel unhappy- to busy myself with as much as is humanly possible (sometimes more) to distract myself from thinking or analysing. But, I feel like I've spent the last eight months running from life.
When I was younger, I used to try and understand situations I'd been caught up in, by looking at them from every perspective and angle imaginable; but after a while, it got tiresome. Pragmatism took over. Grey became replaced by black and white. So, for anything that now feels too painful to think about, or to confront: I run. Towards what, I don't yet know.
The last time I embraced a 'fuck it' attitude, it ended in me getting expelled from school. I remember why I started running then: I was being controlled by things that I had no control over; I tried screaming and shouting, but no one ever seemed to hear me, so I ran. I ran and I ran, and became more and more destructive, until I got thrown out of school.

Trying to avoid the destruction I revelled in at 14, the start of this Summer saw me replacing it with staying busy, being in the moment, and ultimately allowing no time for reflection.

I don't know if it's done me good, or done me harm.

For the last month I've not been able to run anywhere (quite literally). I've had to stand still,
and I really haven't liked it.
I'm very much a 'just get on with it' person: put up, or shut up. Or something. But I'm so tired. I'm so tired of men. I'm tired of meeting the same man over and over again. I'm tired of it never turning out different, and tired from always believing it will.

Yesterday, something very depressing occurred to me: I've never actually, been truly single.

It's been eight months since Ex Boy and I finished; however, upon further thought, I worked out, that for each of those eight months, I have been texting, talking to, or seeing (albeit v. v. casually) different men. As I said, very depressing. For someone who has always considered herself to be independent and who likes her own company, it came as quite a surprise. However, I do know that behaviour such as mine, is sadly, very common amongst 'single' women. Case in point: my single girlfriends who are always talking to three (minimum) men at any one time.
In need of encouragement last night, I phoned one. Jane, has had just as much luck with men as I.
She seemed horrified when I told her I thought talking to lots of men was sad. "Why on earth do you say that? I happen to think it's very fun", "But don't you think it's sad that, for pretty much the last ten years, I've always had a man in my life in some way shape or form?", "Um, no. What do you mean?", "I just...well....I suppose I'm tired. I have had a man in my life for nearly ten years, which therefore means: I've felt disappointed for the last ten years. Anyway, I don't think my memory is cut out for talking to more than two men at a time. Last night, I actually struggled to remember just which man it was that I was talking to on the phone. I felt like a man, and I can't say I liked it", "School boy error. We've all been there. You just need to keep a diary of which man has said what to you, and when."
Laughing about each others exes, we began to remember some of our most notorious male mishaps. Jane's last ex was particularly special - Daniel, who we have now aptly named Weird One.
Their first date was to be a blind one. Jane was very nervous about this, and worried a lot about what she would do if he was ugly. So, after much begging, I agreed to go along for moral support. Jane had told me that Weird One would have a friend with him, so there would be no way I would feel like a third wheel. Jane did not, however, inform me that said friend also happened to be socially inept.
The evening was not one of my finest - on our way to meeting the boys, out of nowhere, someone drove full force into the side of my car, and pushed me onto a flow of oncoming traffic. After running after the bastard who nearly killed me, and then exchanging insurance details, it occurred to me that my car was technically un drivable (the right wheel was out of alignment, and my steering wheel was turning around by itself). Not wanting to disappoint Jane however, I chose not to call a pick up, and forced said broken car a mile down the road to the nearest car park. Even more embarrassing, was that all of this had taken place outside Ex Boy's house. Luckily for me, I don't think he saw me in the middle of his road, with about seven other people, trying to push my car out of the way of the oncoming traffic.
With my car looking likely very ill indeed, sitting and making small talk with someone who looked like they belonged on the Jeremy Kyle show, was not my main priority. I stayed with Jane for a few hours until she felt comfortable with her blind date, then I made my excuses and her date's friend walked me back to my poor little car.
After very luckily managing to get my car home - I never thought a 17 mile journey could take so long - I got into bed and tried to forget what had been a truly awful night.
As with most disasters in my life, the best was still yet to come. The next day, whilst on face book, I noticed I had a friend request from Weird One. Strange, but not uncommon, in a world where we now seem to call people 'friends' after having only met them the once. A few friendly inbox messages were exchanged, until it became clear to me that he was interested in a little more than social pleasantries. What about my friend, I asked him. She's into you, I told him. I like you, he said. She's my friend, and she likes you, I told him, so, therefore, no, I'm afraid. But, being the special little person he was, he twisted most of what I said, and told Jane that I happened to really like him too. He continued seeing her, and continued lying about me.
Believing what he had told her, Jane hadn't spoken to me for six months; until out of the blue she called the other day to tell me what a freak he was. Apparently he loved attention, and had revelled in the fact he had caused two very close friends to fall out.
After some initial tension, and a lot of questions on the phone, both Jane and I began to see the funny side of all that had happened. She went on to tell me that, they slept together only the once. After he whined "I don't think you don't find me attractive" just before intercourse, you could forgive the girl for not wanting to go back for a second helping. What had actually happened was, upon their first time together, he tried to coerce her into oral sex, to which she politely, and delicately declined; only for him to try and use the 'you don't fancy me' card. No sympathy for him I'm afraid. Boys: If a girl isn't initially too keen on said act, then you're best of behaving like a gentleman, and at least trying to pretend that it hasn't bothered you at all not to receive said act; you're far, far likelier to receive said act that way. Throwing your toys out of the pram, and sulking in the corner will get you nowhere.
Jane has since, on the grapevine heard, that upon sleeping with another girlfriend for the first time, Weird One told her "I don't think I'm going to be very good. I think my willy is too small." Something every girl is longing to hear.

This particular girlfriend of mine is 'single' and talking to three men. We both agreed that if you are going to talk to multiple men, it is sensible for three to be your minimum. Self preservation we decided. If one lets you down, then at least you have options.
I don't see a huge amount of harm in it; I know men do the same, if not more. My reasons for doing it though, are very different to what I imagine most men's to be; my reasons for usually talking to more than one men at a time are for self preservation, whilst I have it on good authority from male friends, that men only talk to multiple women in the hope of bedding them all. Anyhow, there is always one man that I'm more into, and it's for this very reason that I usually make sure I am also talking to others, as it's almost always the case that the more liked of the bunch will not feel the same.

So there you have it: I have had a man in my life for the last eight years. I've never actually been by myself for any period of time, it would appear. In hindsight, most of those years have been spent meeting a string of disappointing men. I'm yet to meet one who has well and truly rocked my world; instead, I seem to attract married men, liars, cheaters, nymphomaniacs - you name the tosser and I've almost certainly had the displeasure of meeting him.

I don't know what's been put in the water lately but, I've had so many people walking back into my life, most of them men. The last to walk back in was the one the I had been seeing shortly before I went into hospital. For arguments sake, I will call him F2. I must admit I had really liked this one. Really. We're chatting again against most of my girlfriends wishes. They tell me he's an idiot and I know they're right.
You'd think I would have had enough to deal with in the last month to stop me entering back into another ridiculous life style choice: the serial seducer.

"But I really like him", I say to one of my girlfriends. "So? He's a player, and you liking him won't change that." She replied. "I know, and I know you're right. I don't know what it is, but I guess I think that there is some sort of chance....." without being able to finish my sentence she interrupted me. "That's it! That's your thing! You think you can change people, but you can't! I think that should be your epitaph. Yes. 'She thought she could change men, but she couldn't", she laughed.

The girl has a point. Look at Ex Boy. Why did I stay with him so long? In the hope that one day he would change? Mr. P-S: I thought he'd 'calm down'. Wake up! If a man doesn't want to 'calm down' at his age, do you think he ever will?
And so, I have decided to embrace a new attitude towards men. It's an 'easy come, easy go' kind of thing. Instead of trying to change them, or living in the hope that they may want to change, I will now just let them be. I will concentrate on having a fabulous time with my girlfriends and if a nice normal man decides to walk into my life then so be it. But from here on in I am not looking for him anymore, because quite frankly, I am too tired.
I want to be in peaceful place where the absence of noise will allow the tiniest of sounds to amplify. The sounds that have been stifled by a man for so long.