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The long game (part 1: cos all the good guys were taken) & Hong Kong’s multi-millionaire dating service.

English: A 12 segment panoramic image of the H...

So this is Hong Kong

Some cool building in Hong Kong

Oh and this is Hong Kong dough... in case, you know, you take this blog too literally.

Oh and this is Hong Kong dough… in case, you know, you take this blog too literally.

So before I write about my friends trying to get me to join (infiltrate) a Hong Kong millionaires’ dating service (awesome friends, awesome *rolls eyes*), I think it is probably time to introduce the long game, hell let’s turn it into a series; why you would play it, how to perfect it and eventually… well you will see.

The Long Game (Part 1): Why?

Erm, in case you need a definition:

The long game: essentially positioning yourself, so that you get a guy in the medium to long-term as said guy is either unavailable in the short-term or is available in the short-term but is mildly retarded and doesn’t see your value.

This time last year I played this game with 3 guys consciously and actively. Two of them had girlfriends (I later learnt so did the 3rd) and here in lies the ethical issue, the long game is usually used on people who are attached. It isn’t exactly an ‘ethical venture’ and is definitely not ‘cool’ (even the tamer version that I played), so what the hell led someone like me to experiment with it?

Honestly… the D word. Divorce, or more precisely getting married, coming out the other end and the penny dropping that while married all the good guys got snatched up. All of them, all the good guys were gone.

THEY WERE ALL GONE

(Yes I am shamelessly using a cute cat to distract you from judging me for playing the long game.) 

When the hell did this happen?? Apparently, sometime in my 8 year relationship and I of course never got the memo that went out to all the single ladies. But I did though didn’t I? All my single friends constantly complaining about how few good guys were left, begging me to set them up. Fucking hell, those girls were NOT kidding.

I suddenly understood my single friends when they complained that the only boys left were the, you know, ‘special’ ones:

 

To the extent that when you did come across a normal guy you acted a wee bit special yourself.

I was a good married girl; my eyes really didn’t wander in any noticeable way. So unlike some girls I hadn’t got a fall back catalogue and because my marriage was to my first sweetheart there was no back catalogue. There really were no catalogues at all, no binders full of men (first political joke of the blog *high five*), there wasn’t even a pamphlet, hell there was no point in bringing out a paper and pen. Ironically because I had been the ‘good girl’ I was now playing with a game that was not so good. The thing about irony is this; it is not always funny. The other thing is, and this took some growing up on my part to realise, the good men really weren’t all taken, there were and are lots and lots of good guys out there, they just need finding. Plus lots of the guys that were taken, on closer inspection, turned out to be kind of blah. But before I realised this I only had the words of a friend (ironically one of my few happily married friends), said to me a few weeks post separation: ‘Don’t worry hun, the guys are all taken now, but you will see, they will ALL come back around’. And so, in full view of my conscience, I committed to the long game.

Hong Kong Millionaires’ Dating Service

I used to be a rich girl. Last week this meant that my friends thought they would talk me through their rich divorcee friend’s life. I still can’t work out if it was a pep talk, meant as inspiration or just gossip.

So a girl is stuck out in a foreign city (Hong Kong), with divorce proceedings going on, a child (half Chinese) and nowhere to live. I also took the liberty of presuming that she had a broken heart and a shit tonne of baggage. Tragic story, just tragic… yeeeah, not so much.

See she has uber rich friends, who take her in, is about to be wealthy enough through divorce (note to self: next time) and most importantly is, without so much as a pause, on a mission to find multi-millionaire husband number two.

I genuinely don’t understand the desire for a millionaire but I really really don’t understand the husband thing. Who the hell wants a second husband so quickly, had her heart not exploded, had she not died a little inside and need reviving after her divorce?! Even if her need for a second husband is driven by her need to secure her financial position/social standing, would her emotional damage not override that? My friends insisted that she was a lovely human being, they also felt strongly that she didn’t appear to be carrying any baggage, that she wasn’t lamenting. It got me thinking, perhaps if I were driven by lifestyle, really driven, I too wouldn’t have time to lament. Maybe heartache is a luxury afforded to those of us not driven by materialistic luxury? Certainly the other extreme has been argued; that when you are fighting off starvation you have no time for heartache. Perhaps it works for either end of the scale. Alternatively they may just have really awesome happy pills in Hong Kong?

So my friends explained that my sister-divorcee signed up to a service for women looking for rich husbands. I have heard of these things. Dating services/spouse finders for the uber rich. Either your subscription costs are hefty or it is by the recommendation of a fellow uber rich friend. One of the universal truths of this world is this, money likes money, it likes money a lot. Hence my grinning when I heard that a Goldsmith was dating a Rothschild… of course they were.

Hong Kong of course is perfect, an international cosmopolitan cocktail of new and old money, apparently she had a serious relationship with a Russian, another with a Middle Easterner, another still with some Euro-trash guy. Although not a millionaire herself post divorce, she knew ‘money’ well and was quite acceptable a prospect for a millionaire. Of course in socialite-speak knowing money well means that you know how and where to spend it, how to generate the illusion of more money (socialites never actually make money directly but the family members that do know illusion is good for business) and of course how to entertain money (I think I just used the term ‘money’ as if it were a community). And so apparently came the moral of the story, my friends looked at me, their eyes lite up as though hit by genius: ‘you could do that, you, YOU could so pull that off… we can come visit you in Hong Kong, it is really nice this time of year’.

Thanks guys.

So what do you call Notting Hill (the film), Facebook stalking and Christmas memories?

 

  

 People; stalking is creepy, even if you’re a cute cat.
     

Three rather random things happened to me on Christmas Night. I laughed at one, quite literally a minute later cried at another and 1 hour later screamed at a screen. A sanity check is probably overdue, but until then people… it is just us.

Mark Zuckerberg, founder and CEO of Facebook

Zuckerberg, book-face Don, I’m not stalking him, other boys or even my ex-in-laws.

There is this boy; I used to have what could best be described as an on-again-off-again crush on him. In other words I was sometimes attracted to him (like for a week in September… crack neck) and other times (like during the fishing season, I don’t know when that is, making up things now) I was pretty confident that he was a member of the human race but held few strong opinions on him otherwise. I barely know him (so the crush when on was superficial), meet up with him rarely and am pretty sure he is gay. The last one is technically factually incorrect but it hurts my ego to suggest otherwise, as it would mean that he has not made a move on me why exactly?

In any case I went through the most unfortunate 6 weeks where I just kept bumping into him everywhere, it got quite ridiculous. I used to date heavily and used to go through a number of boys of ‘interest’ so my friends, unable to keep up with names tend to just have nicknames for them. This schmuck became known as ‘ Oh yeah, the one you’re stalking’… muppets. It got worse as then my friends started bumping into him too, they suggested that they could send me regular texts with his whereabouts to aid me in my ‘stalking’. I was further amused by the fact that social media seemed to be in cahoots too; twitter thought it appropriate for a week straight to, oh ever so passively, suggest that I should ‘follow him’. I am NOT preparing my defence.

Just to be clear the boy is NOT Zuckerberg (above). This story has been greatly abridged, you have lives.

So it appears that Facebook locked me out on Christmas Night. To get in I had to answer my security password or switch on my phone or identify my friend’s pictures. Switching my phone on involved getting the re-charger… fuck that. I fail security questions all the time… it would appear that setting sarcastic answers to security questions may be funny at the time but sarcasm is inevitably hard to ‘call back’. Pictures it was. The first picture I was asked to identify, the very first one of 5, of all my 100s of bloody friends, 100s, was….

Was I stalking him? Had I just not told myself??

 image 

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I was tickled.

How, how was that possible?! I give up, clearly the universe is conscious and I should just stop fighting my sane urges and stalk him in 2013, crush or no crush, it can become my side project. It made me wonder about the nature of coincidence; does our mind only notice coincidence when it means something to us? May be 7 blue trucks go past us every time we walk past Old Street station in the morning but we have never noticed because blue is not the colour of our parent’s divorce or a truck at Old Street is not what drove over our dream of being the Queen of the Cabbage Patch dolls at 20 10 years old?

facebook engancha

More cats stalking. Only specialised Facebook stalking.

The thing I don’t get is Facebook’s criteria for these 5 people. These 5 are not people I Facebook stalk (don’t even pretend you don’t do it!), as there was 1 guy on there I can barely remember, plus I don’t facebook stalk this douche… ok once in a while I show a little curious interest, the kind of appropriate level of state sanctioned curiosity that keeps me interesting… and informed. But here is the thing, my sister, who I interact loads with, was on there. I suddenly had an epiphany, it was Christmas day after all, may be what has been going on is simple… this douche was actually the one doing the stalking. THAT was it! Sigh of relief, I now have 2 stalkers (yeah bitches, I already have one) and my subconscious has not been stalking some poor boy. Yep yep that is it!

That is NOT it.

*sigh*

*bang head on table repeatedly to ‘call me may be’*

Then once into Facebook, still giggling, I read my ex-niece-in-law’s status. She was just lamenting on all the people they have lost recently. I welled up, you can have an ex-husband but as many of us know it is so much harder to have an EX family-in-law; there is something about the dynamic that means that if you were a close family you still feel so attached and often feel artificially ripped from them. I lost the people that she listed too, I really had. They were my family, people I dotted on and adored, who were loved and loved me back. As I kept reading she listed one family member that I didn’t know very well. I did not know that he had died. No one had told me. Andrew (my ex) is a nice guy but how the hell had he thought it was ok not to tell me, I talk to him every so often and ask him about the family? Not much else to say, it was upsetting.

Facebook has become the main way for me to check up on the ex-in-laws, there are enough of them on there for me to know everything is ok and to get an insight into their antics, mischief and heartbreak. It is all I am allowed I suppose, as it is too painful and raw for both sides to still be close. It kills me, I see a beautiful quilt and I want to take a picture to send my ex-mother –in-law, she collects them and I miss being an aunt to the nieces and nephews, playing even disciplining. They say when you get married you are not just marrying a person but a family, divorce is the same and if you really loved the family and were loved that really sucks.

An hour later my dear friends, who I am staying with, suggested that we watch Notting Hill, I have watched it once before but a long time ago. Here is the thing, he falls in love after meeting her three times, people actually buy this shit, I mean this film made Hugh’s career! 

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What a load of bollocks!

Yes I agreed with my friend that the characters were really well-developed and that the shots often smart but what bull is this about a guy being in love with a girl after only meeting her 3 fucking times? Who wrote this stuff and how emotionally immature and redundant are they? No one, male or female, is in love after 3 meets. You might be infatuated, you might be in lust, hell you might be in serious like… but love… give me a break.

I can see myself ranting about this for some time so instead I will just make the following ‘succinct rants’:

  • Does anyone really genuinely believe this?
  • Only teens think they are in love after 3 dates, IN FACT teenage girls can declare it after one. Hell I was declaring my undying teenage love for a guy because he ‘looked’ at me at lunch.
  • Guys are even less muppet like than girls on these things, Hughie get a grip.
  • The notion that then in 2 mins having not shown any serious medium to long-term dating they show their whole lives flash before them… #bullshit

Is it me, is this the divorce, so unopen to love after 3 meets? Nope, you know what that is just about muppetry.

Plus plus plus… Julia Roberts was a cow in that film. Cows don’t deserve love.

Advice to friends of divorcees during the festive season

A divorcee friend had these words of advice for her friends:

Darlings as it is Boxing Day it might be worth checking in on friends who are divorced or split from very long term relationships and keeping them a wee bit distracted if needed. The festive season tends to be the worst time of year for a lot of divorcees so here are a few thoughts:

  1. It is not just Christmas Day, but the few days before and the few days after too. New Year’s is similar.
  2. New divorcées in particular often don’t know what has hit them until it is too late to take their friends up on offers, so open invites may go a long way.
  3. Christmas is a time for family it is hard to stomach that when you have lost a huge part of yours, it can start to smell like lost dreams and hope, having loving friends helps the person to not catastrophize… it really is not the end of the world.
  4. People are different, some just want to be left alone, you know your friends best and what is within character.

Alright good deed of the day done, back to narcissism.

Hibernating for Christmas; a divorcee’s dream OR ‘I wish you a new husband’.

I had this thought today, while hiding out on the continent at a best mates and her family’s Christmas eve dinner, it would be nice to hibernate for Christmas next year. Just completely miss it. I learnt from experience that staying in London was bad news, it becomes a ghost town, a reminder that everyone else has a place and have gone to it, not a soul left to play with. I also learnt that letting a good friend’s family adopt me for Christmas day was not enough. I personally need to be adopted for a few days before and a few days after, I reckon I am just high maintenance. So one of my best mates invites me to leave the country and forces her family to adopt me.So yesterday (23rd) the divorcee Christmas blues started, I sought comfort in knowing that last year and the year before it came earlier. I am getting stronger. But the divorcee Christmas blues can still move me to tears.

It is strange, there is no particular thought that upsets at what used to be my favourite time of year, it just seems to be a general ‘sense’ of loss, last year it was loneliness too, this year I think it more a sense of not belonging. I have no interest in my ex, but then I also wonder how long it will take for me to be mended enough to have a relationship, hell I wonder if it will ever happen.

It is such a painful time of year, tbh it is such a painful time of year for anyone who has suffered from a very close loss. As I write this I have just remembered that I forgot to send flowers to the parents of a late friend, it is the first Christmas since his death that I have forgotten. I have to count our blessings, I haven’t lost a child.

I would love to hear from people and know how they are managing this time of year. What do you do, does it still get to you?

My friends family have this tradition where they go around the table and say something meaningful to everyone on Christmas eve. I wished my friend’s grandmother contentment this year, but I couldn’t translate it so said peace instead. She laughed and said that she lived on her own so has no one to argue with so is always in peace. Ironically following the above comment of hers and because of why I was at their table in the first place she wished me happiness in the coming year… and a husband :-/

Born on Christmas Day

It is Christmas Day, the worst time of year for many divorcees; time to write a blog about divorce and how with only a few hours left I am seriously considering giving up on the idea that I will find a nice boyfriend in time to spend Christmas Dinner with. May be, I don’t know.

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