Relationships with women and tales of regret

When I was growing up, my relationships with women were unusual. This article covers a time line that stretches from my early teenage school days, right through to my mid twenties, and as such, covers situations that happened at school, university and in my early work life. This article is deeply personal, and contains mild sexual references – if this isn’t your thing, then you may want to skip this one.

Throughout this time in my life I was ignored by a great many of my female peers – almost as though I was invisible (something, incidentally, which Rachel writes wonderfully about here). In a sense, that didn’t bother me. I felt no great desire to interact with these young women – whilst many of my male class-mates and work colleagues found them to be hugely attractive, I didn’t.

Those that did interact with me – well that was a completely different story, and one that perplexed me until very recently. Maybe once or twice a year on average, someone who I was either at school or work with would discover me. They would always make the first move, and start talking to me. Whilst I find group conversation difficult, I have always enjoyed talking one to one with others. I can manage this sort of conversation quite well, and it allows me to feel a connection with others. Over the years I often found myself doing quite a lot of it with young women.
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Is this what we’re all living for today?

Just look at all those hungry mouths we have to feed
Take a look at all the suffering we breed
So many lonely faces scattered all around
Searching for what they need

Is this the world we created?
what did we do it for?
Is this the world we invaded?
Against the law?
So it seems in the end
Is this what we’re all living for today?
The world that we created.

You know that every day a helpless child is born
Who needs some loving care inside a happy home
Somewhere a wealthy man is sitting on his throne
Waiting for life to go by.

Is this the world we created
we made it on our own
Is this the world we devastated
Right to the bone?
If there’s a God in the sky looking down
What can he think of what we’ve done
To the world that he created?

Lovely words – I hope you agree – and absolutely laden with sentiment that I find irresistible these days.

They are the words to a song by Queen with perhaps an obvious title, Is this the world we created…?, which was written by Freddie Mercury some twenty five years or so ago. For perhaps the quintessential performance of the song, click here to see Freddie and Brian perform it at Wembley Stadium in 1986.

Mentioning music in my blog is a first, but it isn’t for the lack of trying. I’ve started a number of articles about the relationship between me and music since I began writing here, and yet somehow none of them have captured the emotion well enough. This isn’t going to be the article I’ve been struggling to write either – that will have to wait – but hopefully this piece will start to give you a sense of just how much music – the right sort of music – works on me.

Is this the world we created…? only popped back into my life a couple of days ago, after a hiatus of perhaps fifteen years. I’d forgotten about it’s very existence, and only rediscovered it again by accident, on one of my follow-the-link sessions whilst using the Internet.

Having clicked on the video link, the opening chords sent a chill down my spine, and made the hairs on my arms prick up. I knew this song. I knew it was good, but I had forgotten just how good it was.

I was in something of a sad and reflective mood – I’d been reading with some disbelief how it was nearly eighteen years since Freddie had died. I found that incredible.

I remember hearing about his death almost like it was yesterday. For me it was one of those moments that stays with you forever. I was at sixth-form college, and I’d heard the news on breakfast television, and then again on the radio on my walkman on the bus to college. I remember feeling sad, and disappointed that someone so wonderfully charismatic and influential had been taken away at such a shockingly young age – Freddie was only 45 when he died.

When I watched the above video clip for the first time a couple of days ago, the sense of loss I felt was immediate. In two and a half minutes I had been reduced to big choking tears. I watched it a couple more times, and really cried hard for a few minutes.

What was I crying about? A very good question. I felt the loss of something. Was it the loss of a teen idol all those years ago making itself finally felt? Perhaps there was an element of that there, but that wasn’t really it.

Was I mourning my loss of youth? Well, youth clearly has a bearing on this. The music brought back very hazy memories of feeling young and energetic, but also of feeling fundamentally lost, alone and unhappy in a world that made little sense to me.

I think the music had brought back how I was really feeling at that time in my life – a feeling that I kept very well hidden, for fear of, well, I’m not sure what. My peers all seemed to be happy and relaxed with life. They were all starting to look for independence, and were achieving it by going to colleges on the other side of town by bus and by applying for university or planning to go travelling around the world. I too was doing this, but primarily because that’s what everyone else was doing, and I was filled with with a feeling of barely controllable terror much of the time.

I’ve been quite teary on a number of occasions over the last few days. Perhaps this is because I’ve had a bit of alone time in the evenings for a change that have allowed me the luxury of thinking about things in detail. This is a natural conclusion to the anxious and down feelings that I’ve experienced over the last week or two, and I feel lucky to have had the opportunity to try and express and deal with it, finally.

Going back to Freddie’s lyrics, I can’t help but notice just how well they sit with my own view of the world these days. I’m sure they didn’t back when I was a teenager.

It seems to me that there is hard-core logic in the words. Their truth is self evident, yet so wonderfully understated, allowing you to fill out the detail yourself using your own thoughts and experiences of the world. This too may go some way to explaining why the song makes me cry.

The world didn’t make much sense to me at seventeen, and it still doesn’t today at thirty-six.

This song, however is as relevant now as it was twenty-five years ago. Brilliantly simple, yet powerfully touching and perfectly executed.

What more could you want from music?

Guilt

I like to think that in general my writing here is upbeat and positive. That isn’t always how I feel though, and this article reflects that. If that isn’t your thing, then maybe you’ll want to skip reading this time. This article also has some adult themes in places. You have been warned.

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Guilt.

I’m feeling a lot of it now, and for very specific reasons.

In short, I don’t feel good enough.

I’m not good enough for my wife, she deserves better. I don’t meet all of her emotional needs, and I typically don’t see when she needs some TLC from me.

When I do see that she needs some TLC, I struggle to know how to respond. It doesn’t come naturally to me. It’s not that I don’t care – I do of course, I just don’t seem to be able to use my brain in a way that allows me to make decisions on what is appropriate in situations like this. “Just buy me a little something every now and then”, she’ll say. But that doesn’t work for me. What do I buy? I have no idea. When inspiration occasionally strikes, I worry that my choice is a bad one. It has been some times in the past, so I now feel I can’t trust the ideas I have.

Most normal people (and I include many men in this) do not have a problem in this area. So why do I? It’s not good enough, and it makes me feel incredibly guilty and frankly quite miserable that I can’t keep my wife happy.

My wife actually put it quite succinctly a few nights ago. It’s like I learned the physical side of intimacy, and paid enough attention to that to ensure that I was proficient, but then forgot about all the other aspects that are involved. I don’t do romance. My wife says she feels neglected at times.

She’s right, of course. Physical intimacy makes sense to me, and everything else surrounding it doesn’t. I’ve always tried to use physical intimacy to express my love, and as such have concentrated on making that side of things special for my loved one. But that doesn’t always work, does it? You can’t always make love to show someone you care. Sometimes they want support or to feel loved in other ways. Could I describe those other ways to you? Erm, well, not easily, no. I really do have trouble in understanding them and putting them into words.

My reliance on the physical aspects of showing love has caught me out in other ways in the past too. I can’t always judge all that well what is appropriate and what isn’t, and have been overtly sexual to female friends. The problem here is that expressing love physically is what seems natural to me. I want to show them I care, and, well, it can get messy and cost friends, as I have found out.

Another area that I don’t feel good enough at is being a parent. Perhaps no-one does – fathers especially.

I have always tried to be very hands on with my kids – I was heavily involved in changing nappies when they were small, and in feeding them, and bathing them and generally caring for them.

But now that they are a little older (they are five and three) I feel decidedly out of my depth. My son is learning to aggressively push boundaries, and his little sister is learning to copy him. This, I would imagine, is trying for the most competent and together of parents, but I’m finding it difficult to find the right words and actions to meter out the right degree of discipline. After a hard day at work for me, they are often noisy and aggressive, and I find that side of things to be a bit much from a sensory point of view. It can sometimes be difficult to keep my own aggression at bay.

Of course this makes me feel incredibly guilty as well, and something of a failure.

The final area where I feel guilty about not being good enough is at work.

I’m working on a contract basis in my current job, so I’m being relatively well paid versus the permanent members of staff. At the moment I’m struggling to actually get work done. There are no two ways about it – I’m not currently worth the money that my employers are paying me. I don’t like letting people down, and hence, once more, I feel very guilty that I’m not pulling my weight.

All of which is very negative and makes me feel very gloomy.

My ideas about what I should be able to achieve and my measures of these ideals are still very neuro typical. When I don’t live up to my own high standards – especially when I feel that my own lack of performance is impacting on other people – I feel very guilty.

Do any of you also feel this sort of guilt?