LGBT / Love life

STICKY – An open letter to the women I date who discover this blog

Dear Fit Girl who I have seduced,

Well done on your rather clever Google stalking and for discovering my blog. If you’ve gotten to this point, clearly I’ve made the jump and revealed to you that I am a young widow. Else, you’re really crazily stalkerish and prepared in advance of a date and perhaps you should back off. You’ve probably searched something along the lines of “young widow” or “dating a young widow” or “lesbian widow” to get here. It’s kinda nice, actually, that you’re doing your research and trying to understand more about my situation and what it might mean for you. Thank you for that!

Just to confirm you’ve got the right girl, yes, I’m the London lesbian in my late twenties who sings in a band and works in a big City firm. And here are the basic quick facts: I was with my wife for five and a half years in total. We got married (you’ve probably also found our wedding pictures. Don’t I look fit?). Then, she killed herself five months later in our home. I found her hanging and I’ve been traumatised by it. I was blamed for her death. I lost nearly all my friends, I lost every single one of my in-laws, I lost my sausage dog and I’ve had to build a new life for myself as a result of these devastating losses. My hopes and dreams were shattered. There’s no sugar coating it. I’ve had a shit load of therapy and drunk A LOT of wine. It’s helped.

I’m going to be honest with you because it’s better out than in. Telling you about being a widow made me feel incredibly vulnerable and I’m scared you’ll run away out of your fear of my history and my mental state. Well, please don’t. At least give this a try and don’t make assumptions about me, or your ability to be with me. You’ve had fun so far, right? I’m one of the strongest and most interesting women you’ll ever meet, and I have an appreciation of life which will make me the most dedicated and empathetic girlfriend ever, should we decide to go in that direction.

You are not my rebound. Been there, done that. Chances are, you’re not just a girl I’ve fucked on a whim either because I revealed an intimate part of me (beyond my vagina) to you. You’ll read in this blog that I do go a bit sex mad sometimes, but doesn’t everyone our age? Sometimes I just need to be TOUCHED and I get horny, ok?! I also horribly miss my late wife, and yes, I refer to her as my wife. She earned that title by spending the rest of her days with me, head over heels in love. I’m not going to take any shit from you because I’m not desperate. I deserve happiness for the rest of my days too and so do you. If we’re not meant to be, then it is what it is. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t dismiss me right this instant because you’re freaking out at something new and intimidating.

It didn’t even cross your mind until I dropped the widowbomb that I’d have a dead wife, did it? Well, that’s because I’m a normal person with opinions, ideas and optimism. I’m hot, I’m clever, I’m good in bed and I’m well established. If you do want to back off, please let it be for something else and tell me so – don’t just disappear. I understand that you may have your own issues but I don’t deal well with sudden abandonment – my wife was here one minute and then gone the next. She never said goodbye or explained why.

As you read through this blog, you’ll see that my grief journey has taken me through many ups and downs. I sobbed on my wedding anniversary, but I got drunk and had rampant sex with one of my clients another day. I thought I fancied a male widower and went through a crisis of sexuality, and I pine after my wife, shouting at her into thin air. I haven’t ever dated before and that’s why I’m like a ridiculous excitable but clueless child  – wife was my first love.  I’m still getting used to this shit. If you’ve lost someone very close to you too, perhaps you will empathise with the fact that grief comes in waves and we react differently. Difficult dates come and go, songs play on the radio that trigger tears, writing about true emotions in all their grizzly detail prompts regret and sadness. If you can’t empathise, well, there you go. You’ll come to understand at some point in your life that the nature of grief changes with time.

I’m objectively “early on” in my widowhood and my wife’s death was recent, but everyone has their own grief timescale. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not done with grieving but I have come to the acceptance stage. I can’t go back. She’ll always be dead. I haven’t “moved on” – I never will – but you can say I’ve moved forward quicker than some others who have lost their spouse. For a while, I was barely surviving. I felt suicidal. I felt despair and was nearly swallowed by an abyss. Now, I am living. I feel genuine joy! I feel that buzz and I embrace it. I’ve told you about the buzz I feel when I’m performing and have a crowd cheering for me. I don’t feel guilty for it. That’s a sign that I have moved forward. The fact that I’ve trusted you and told you I’m a widow indicates that I’ve also felt joy whilst dating you. However, I still miss my wife to pieces, love her and I know I always will. She was my best friend too. You don’t need to get your head around that quite yet, but you will eventually if you’re going to be with me til death do us part. One step at a time though, yeh? I need slow too. But I can assure you that my heart will expand to be in love with my next wife too – there’s no competition going on here.

Chances are that I’ve written about you in my blog and given you a ridiculous nickname. I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable or feel trivialised. If I’ve called you Future Wife then take it as a compliment. Ditto for a hashtag along the lines of #OHMYGODIWANTTOMARRYHER. It doesn’t mean you actually have to marry me and I’m going to force you down the aisle in the next six months! I’m just charting my experiences for my own benefit, and looking to help other young widows understand that they’re not alone in their feelings of wanting a future filled with love. Sometimes widows constantly write really depressing trite, but I don’t. I’m honest and looking to be a role model – someone who talks authentically about her experiences. But I hope I haven’t given away too much about you that makes you angry or vulnerable. Let’s talk about it if so.

I could go on and on in this letter. Really, the best thing for us to do is talk. Ask me. I’ll be as honest as I can. I might cry, but I’m a girl.

With affection,

The crazy widow you met on Tinder x

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7 thoughts on “STICKY – An open letter to the women I date who discover this blog

  1. More seriously, one of the things that has struck me most strongly about New York is how isolated people are from death. I assume that’s true of urbanites, suburbanites and townsfolk everywhere in the developed world.

    Most people in the developed world will go through their life never seeing a person die young or violently or suddenly. They might hear of it. A friend might die young from cancer. But if they have seen death at all – and most haven’t – they’ve only seen the death of someone old or frail, in antiseptic conditions.

    I’ve only lived in a city for a few months. But it was one of the things my fiancée warned me about before I came here. I’ve seen it already. People do not understand death, other than death from old age or cancer. They are not equipped to deal with it. They – we – have cultural and social amnesia. If people aren’t exposed to it, it doesn’t happen.

    Oddly, they’re the ones who seem to need trigger warnings. Tell someone that your child cousin was killed before your childhood eyes in a horrible accident. You will be met with disbelief, an inability to process. It’s seems to be a sort of PTSD that affects people who’ve never experienced a traumatic stress. Cognitive dissonance behind a rampart of willful obtuseness.

    My fiancée and I grew up in a different place, where young people – even children – die suddenly and violently. I started kindergarten with 30 kids, all the 5 year olds from half a county the size of Rhode Island. Four were dead in horrible accidents before I left for university. My fiancée and I have both witnessed sudden, horrible, violent deaths. Deaths of children and family members.

    I grew up in town, where we were somewhat insulated from death. My fiancée grew up on a ranch, where sudden and violent injury, maiming and death are commonplace.

    We don’t have shrinks out there. You go to your minister, he tells you your loved one is in a better place and you’d better get back to work or your kids will starve. It’s a harsh world. Leave the dead bury to their dead.

    I know that’s nothing like what you experienced. That horror is beyond my imagining. But maybe it can give you some perspective on why the women – and men – you meet might have trouble.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: Death | Family Values Lesbian

  3. Pingback: I don’t understand all these euphemisms #NetflixAndChill | Eerily Cheerily

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