Movin' on up

Hey, y'all.

We here at Minx central have moved... we're now over here...

Come on over!

As promised...

So, yes, things went a little bit mad here at Minx central, and here follows the promised explanation.

I left you guys just over a month ago with a somewhat explanatory if cryptic notice that I was being stalked IRL. I was not lying, this actually happened, and i can tell you honestly that the stress it put me under caused me to drop 7 kilos in 10 days. Best fuckin' diet i was ever on, although the side-effects of said stress were most unpleasant and i would not recommend it as an alternative to Atkins or the South Beach diet.

Ahem.

I have thought long and hard about whether i want to go into details of exactly what caused said stalking, and on careful reflection, I've decided not to elaborate too much. Basically, I did something I shouldn't have, and i was caught. When confronted, i 'fessed up, unable to continue lying anymore, and one of the parties took umbrage at that.

I, on the other hand, believe that (finally) i did the right thing. I 'fessed up to them, and to CH, and CH took it on the chin and as previously reported, we're trying to make things work between us. More of that in a minute.

However, the umbrage-taking took a most unpleasant form. Telephonic threats to publish my face, perverted photos purporting to be of me and lewd stories purporting to be about me all over the Internet so that, and I quote: "for the next ten years, any time anyone Googles your name, this will be what they see... you'll never get another job, your family will be shamed... this will reach back to [my home country] -- don't kid yourself." SMS'd threats, similar in nature. Screaming, angry and abusive phone calls.

Not fun. Not fun at all.

I accept that in doing the right thing, I'd done wrong by this person. In terms of the bigger picture, were i to have the chance to go back, I think I'd probably do the same thing. I just couldn't lie anymore. I accept that i was wrong and that i let someone down -- but i let other people down more substantially, and I owed them more. CH in particular.

I don't doubt that on some level, I "deserved" punishment. However, I don't think anyone deserves to be harassed and threatened in that way. Essentially all I had done was tell the truth. In doing so, I'd leveraged him into taking responsibility for his own actions -- including those that involved me and those that had nothing to do with me, but rather a number of other people, all of whom were also sworn to secrecy. Inasmuch as the problems that existed for him, i was far more a symptom than a reason, but he chose to make me the scapegoat, and to terrify the life out of me when things got out of hand.

In short, it was awful. I was edgy, jumpy, nervous and brittle for weeks. I am only now settling down to my previous Minxiosity.

And even that is tempered with the changes that I have made to my lifestyle. CH now knows everything that went before. Everything. We talked for a very long time after i confessed all, and to his enormous credit, he took his share of responsibility. He realises that while nothing excuses my behaviour to him in terms of my infidelity, that the problems between us came from a much deeper source, and that we needed to work together on every level in order to make things work.

The bottom line is that he still loves me. A lot. Go figure. And also, when push came to shove and i could have ended things once and for all -- i just couldn't do it. My much-vaunted procrastination obviously had deeper roots than I'd thought, ones that reached further than the more practical considerations. On some level, i must still love him, because when i had the opportunity to walk away -- I couldn't do it.

So we're trying again. This time with 100% honesty. It was at his request that i closed down the other place. Not demand, request. I told him that in future, I'd like to be able to show him the erotica I wrote; even write some for him or inspired by him.

I'm not labouring under any illusions that this will happen immediately. Baby steps... at first, anyway. The most significant and important thing is that we are finally communicating. If we can do that, then there's real hope that we can make this work and be happy together. The rush and passion of the love i had for G and for The Muse may not be present in what CH and i have, but there's something deeper, something that encompasses the years we've been together, the shared experiences and everything we have, not least our children. I at least owe it to them to give 100% of me to making my situation work. If after a while we find that we really can't make it work, then it will not be through lack of us both trying.

And that's what really matters.

I accept fully my responsibility in events leading to the problems that we had, particularly over the last three years or so. [And, yes! We missed the Minxy bloggerversary. I propose that we have a delayed celebration in a week or so, with champagne and salmon caviar. Yes?] That said, I also accept that it was a two-sided affair, so to speak, and that there was plenty of blame on both sides. Infidelity does not end a marriage... don't kid yourselves. It merely indicates the presence of far more serious issues that need to be dealt with and solved.

I do not condone it nor do i condemn it.

So, again somewhat cryptically, now you have the [parts that I am willing to reveal of the] whole story. And I'm back.

Show me some lurve?

i'm back

Didja miss me?

It's been a bit mad here at Minx central. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. Promise.

Really.

(Missed y'all, though. A lot. Just so you know.)

I have to go now.

Well, my faithful friends and loyal readers, it has finally happened.

I came clean to CH about (just about) everything. I was forced to, I admit, by the wife of an ex who coerced a confession out of me, using tricks.

And yes, i was a guilty-as-shit sap. So i guess that for her, it was pretty easy.

I am so fucking glad though. To end all the lies is just a joy. I came clean and to hs enormous credit, CH wants us to try and work things out. 100% honesty from hereon in. And I realised that I really need to try and get the love back. The fact that I couldn't actually walk away when handed the opportunity meant that there was still something there, more than affection, if less than the all-consuming passion of first-love. He still loves me. I still love him on some fundamental level -- amd I owe it to him to get that love back for him, but by really trying this time.

So no more secrets. No more lies. No more secret blogs -- this is remaining as is, and the other has gone. Openness and revelation. I will joyfully hand him the key to my new blog, dangling at the end of a red satin ribbon.

However, there is still a need for some discretion. The ex of above mentioned wife is a vindictive nasty person and is intent on harassing and stalking me. And this is in real life, people. Not blog crap. Real. Fucking. Life.

I could just spit.

So, to my faithful readership, i will happily provide my new location. My email addresses may have been compromised, so I ask that you leave me a comment here, which i won't publish, but I will respond to. If you want to ask me something that only I, and not an impostor, would know the answer to, go ahead. I'm game.

What I will write about there, heaven only knows. But it will be, as ever, about sex, love, life, and the little petty annoying things that bind us together as a community and make us collectively shake a fist in the air, and swear like a sailor.

The Minxdom is closed. But the Minx will live on, elsewhere, as a new chapter of her life unfolds.

Big fat snoggy kisses --
Minxy

Hysterical

You HAVE to go and read this.

HAVE TO.

I can't republish, it's unethical to my fellow bloggers over at "Overheard Everywhere".

But fuck, is this hilarious? I'm still giggling aloud, and the tears have not stopped cascading down my cheeks.

Quoting Muttly

Ooof man am I CHEESED!?

FUCK!

I fucking hate hate hate it when someone lets me down. No, M, i do NOT mean you. I mean someone else, who promised me something and didn't deliver and now i feel like a twat for all kinds of reasons.,

I'm not going into details now.

But i must quote Muttly.

"Rassher frasher masher rasher masher rasher masher rasher masher rasher masher rasher masher rasher masher rasher masher rasher masher rasher masher rasher masher rasher masher rasher masher rasher masher Dick Dastardly."

Grrrr.

Beating the mean nasty bullies

I hate bullies.

But to me, a bully is someone who will dish it out to me.

I've always been a 'fraidy cat. Never terribly good at confrontation, or at standing up for myself. Not that it ever stopped me trying, mind you, but I always felt very self-conscious at how flustered I got, at how emotional and distraught -- and the mean nasty bully was cool as a cucumber and packed a verbal punch that would lay me out for a week.

And then there were the after-effects.

The sick, sunken feeling in the pit of my stomach that I could have said this, should have said that, could have done it better, should have done it better. That I sounded shrill, weak and ineffectual. Pathetic and stupid.

Today, I stood up for myself to a mean nasty bully. Actually, I stood up for myself twice, but one of the people wasn't a mean nasty bully. She's a friend, who was thoughtless is all. She didn't show up at my evening in-birthday-coffee-with-friends (because I’m so damn sedate)... and she didn't even call. The reason why she didn't show up was completely valid (she's self-employed and she was on a fucker of a deadline) and she sent a message by way of her husband. (Husband is one of my closest friends, and no, I have never fucked him. And I never would, despite him being a sex god of Adonis-like proportions. Much like Al.)

But I was seriously pissed that she didn’t' even bother to make direct contact to wish me a happy fucking birthday, for pity's sake.

So I was planning on emailing her. I am, after all, self-admittedly scared -- nay, TERRIFIED -- of verbal confrontation. I had the email written in a variety of ways and nuances in my head, with a choice of colors to boot. But I hadn't quite gotten around to committing the thoughts to paper.

And then she called. Voluntarily.

And I told her, quietly, calmly and in perfect control, how upset I'd been. How hurt that she obviously thought so little of me that she wouldn't bother to even pick up a godforsaken phone to a friend to apologize. How I understood that work had to be her priority -- but that not arriving and not communicating were two very different sins of disproportional weight.

Being the good friend she is, she was absolutely aghast at how she'd acted, and took full responsibility. She apologized profusely and reassured me that I had done nothing wrong, that it was all her and that she was tremendously sorry.

"I'm so sorry I was such a crappy friend!" she cried.

"It's OK. You weren't a crappy friend, you were a good friend who did a thoughtless and crappy thing. For which you apologized and took responsibility -- and that, in my opinion, ends the matter."

Yay me.

The other event, as I described to my pal Madeline, was less smoothly executed, but effective, more or less.

A woman -- the mother of a friend of the young Manx at school, took it upon herself to phone me, and berate me for something that my son did. Not to her, or her kid (or any other kid, for that matter). Incidentally, this woman is someone for whom I have done not a few favors, entirely altruistically, and out of the goodness of my heart, including running her fucking ill-mannered offspring back home when she decides that her fucking period pain is too, too much for her. Oh, and hey kids? Learn how to say thank you when someone does you a favor, you little shits. There's a life lesson for free, from me. You certainly aren't going to learn it from your primitive cunt of a mother.

So she just decided that she had the right to call me and say "Hey, Minxie. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you do that? How could you? You deserve a smack upside the head."

(Seriously. Words to that effect.)

At first, I was gobsmacked so badly that beyond a few stuttered defensive retorts which sounded hollow even to my own ears, I was bereft of the power of speech.

Temporarily.

Here is where the story gets interesting. I was absolutely furious at the sheer unadulterated chutzpah of this camel-driver's second whore, and I marched around the grounds of the school, fuming and breathing fire.

Then, instead of shrinking from the confrontation, as is my wont, and allowing the rage and pain inside me to subside into self-loathing and shame, I called her back.

I had decided what I wanted to say to her, and I planned to do it in a cool, calm and collected manner. However, this asshole of a Neanderthal woman was not prepared to listen to me, so I shouted my message, making sure she could hear me, and then I hung up.

"hey, bitch, deal with your own fucking kid and leave mine to me. oh and next time you want a favor? bite me."

I still got terribly upset after the whole thing, and I cried. But that ineffectual feeling was absent from the cramp in my solar plexus, and in an odd way, despite having hated having to go through the experience, oddly I felt triumphant.

As a wise woman said to me: "I’m so glad you're sticking up for yourself. Nobody else will, and even if they did, you'd still not feel as strong as you do right now."

Amen to that, sister.