This thing called life

I'm just about to switch off for the day. And I know it's been all about being a bad girl today. I'll rephrase that, today was all about the bad girl I once was. I like to think I'm a better girlie now, perhaps not entirely good, but better. What happened was never planned. I'd been the girlfriend who'd been had, the fiancee` who'd been had. And I know what it felt like. Bad. And I vowed it would never happen again, and it didn't. I am not going back on my latest blogs though, what I said there still stands because it is what it is. Life is tough, marriages break up, mistresses will still be all over the place as will be male lovers. Funny, they're not called masters. Masters are something else which would require whole new entry here. And then I'm not so sure it would be good to write about Masters because I'd also have to write about slaves. And s and M, which would raise too many a bushy eyebrow, most of them very good candidates for a sadistic wax. But all that happens is good for the economy. Many hotels would go bankrupt and have to let go of their employees were it not for affairs. That in turn would put a family in financial difficulty, and most times it's the beginning of the straying. It's one circle. I wonder what it would be like for a married woman to stray. But it would also be good for the economy, as long as she isn't brazen enough to use her own matrimonial bedroom which is the subject of so many jokes; the husband coming home from work and she has to hide her lover bla bla bla. It could also turn ugly I guess. But I will never know. Because I will never do that. There are some things in life that we just have to experience, some other thing we do not have to. And while remembering hot Lolita me at 25 still makes me smile, well, it was also the case that love never came easy. Love, not lust. As little girls we do not plan on having our own black book and counting how many came and went. At least I didn't. But I made one mistake. I thought everybody was just like my dad, my lovely nice dad who never got angry, always smiled and made me laugh, my dad who thought I was his little princess and who was so proud of me that his bragging sometimes embarrassed me. Poor dad, he was just so proud, and I thought everybody was just like him. And I know this is a hard one to swallow, but right up till the age of 13 I didn't even know that marriages splitting up were possible. I remember being very confused when one classmate announced her dad had gone. Gone? Gone where? I thought single families where only possible through a sad death of a parent. My dad had so wrapped me up in the cotton wool called extreme love that I was not in tune with the world outside the cotton wool. Seriously. And it's not as if I were slow academically, musically or anything. And yet I didn't know anything about life except for love. I thought my first boyfriend would be just like my dad. Geeze I couldn't have been more wrong. And the first breakup hurt so much because I thought things like these rarely happened. At least I'd never seen anything like it. Because mum, with all her funny ways had been lucky enough to meet someone like my dad at first go. I wasn't so lucky. It took a second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, until I lost count. And I became none the wiser. And I know just why my affairs with older men hurt my dad so much although he never said. He thought I was looking for a father figure because he'd been bad at it. When it was so very much the contrary, I wanted a father figure because I wanted a man like my dad. And no, there's no hanky panky incest thoughts involved. Anybody knowing my dad would know he'd never ever think about something like that. And I'm sad now because dad's a 61 and if I'm lucky I'll get only 20 more years with him around. He has been the greatest dad life could have given me. Life may be tough but it blessed me by such a gentle dad who has been an inspiration all around. At first I wanted to be just like my dad, then I wanted someone like my dad. And finally after 20+ years of looking, I think I've got my man who is a lot like my dad. I owe so much to my dad, who still looks great (because if he knew I was writing about him he'd want me to underline that out of vanity), still helps me out of my scrapes. It has always been easy for me to think of a loving God as a father, because if God is anything like my dad, then there really is none other like him. And I have to thank the thing called life for that.