All posts by Wendy Hall

Wrestling the black dog

I don’t really know why they call depression the black dog, I don’t feel like I’ve been taken over by a dog, black or otherwise and I’m certainly not wrestling with it, I have nor the time or inclination to do anything quite so energetic. It’s more like I’m being smothered with a heavy grey blanket that stops any joy and sunlight from getting in, deprives you of oxygen and in turn energy and directs every thought you have into something negative and wondering whether the world would be a better place without you in it. 

I know know there are many people that don’t understand what it’s like to feel like this. I have family and friends that have trouble understanding, but there are also many people out there that do and a lot of them feel alone and very isolated. Which quite honestly, is the worst place a depressed person can be. I only hope that if I write about it, others won’t feel so alone or stigmatised.

I’ve suffered from depression all of my adult life, however I seem to cope pretty well until I have a fairly serious “situational crisis” (as people in the biz like to call it), or I’m sleep deprived. Which isn’t great for someone like me who works permanent night shift. Currently I’m an extremely sleep deprived state. (Also dealing with a few situational crisis, but I won’t bore you with the details). I didn’t get to sleep Wednesday before work and yesterday I spent the majority of the day driving the kids to and from school and work experience, a total of 4 hours driving. I also took calls from the school and therapists, which left me a grand total of two hours in which to sleep. Then headed back to work. Well, last night at work didn’t go as smoothly as I’d have liked and I turned into the irrational teary monster again. I was told I shouldn’t come to work if I’m tired. Well, I’m fucked then. As I’m always bloody tired. Any working mother, single or otherwise gets tired! Knowing that I won’t get much sleep today due to the fact that my youngest has a pupil free day, I’ve had to cancel work. No work, means no pay, which means more stress, which means more tears and less sleep. A cycle which is hard to break. So it’s off to the doctors for me this morning, before I get myself into a right state and end up rocking in a corner somewhere.

So if you know someone that wrestles with the black dog, the grey blanket, or whatever else people like to call the depression and you haven’t heard from them in a while. Make sure they’re okay, give them a call and let them know they’re not alone.

My blind date….. a non starter

So, it’s been a month since I’ve taken a break from the online dating world. To tell you the truth, it’s been quite nice not having to deal with all the drama. But, I’m never going to find anyone just going to work, sleeping, looking after my boys and watching Netflix marathons whilst sitting on the couch in my pyjamas.  

So when a mate of mine asked if I’d go in a blind date with a guy he knew, I thought “What the hell?” “What have I got to lose?” So I cautiously said he could pass on my phone number, but to let him know that I don’t take kindly to phone calls in the middle of the day whilst I was sleeping, that text was best.

I thought that I’d wake up to a message on my phone…… no message.

I thought he might message that night…… no message.

Maybe he’d message the next day…… no message.
The next day, when I’d given up hope, I received a message via Facebook messenger. He apologised for not messaging sooner, but he’d accidentally deleted my number. I took him at his word, as I do that sort of thing all the time.

But then, seeing as he messaged me via Facebook, I visited his page. I mean, what did he expect? Let me paint a picture of his Profile photo. He was a middle age, fairly largish, Italian, heavily tattooed guy, with a moustache and a flavour saver goatee thingy. Now don’t get me wrong, I really don’t care what someone looks like, it’s their personality that either wins me over or gets me walking away. However it was the much younger Asian girl on his arm that had me questioning his motives. That and his relationship status saying he was in a relationship with this young thing may also have given it away.

So I messaged him back, saying that I wasn’t the type of girl, that would see a guy that was already in a relationship. He then did the whole denial thing. Denied being in a relationship, saying that he’d broken up with her and hadn’t gotten around to updating his Facebook page.

Did he think I was that gullible? Did he think that me, being of the female species, was going to just let that go and not investigate further? That I was going to take him at his word? I mean, come on! Us women are renowned for our investigative AKA stalking skills. Give us a name and we could find out what you’ve had for breakfast!

So back to the Facebook page I went, for a closer inspection. The profile photo that had been posted, had been uploaded the day before. So if he had broken up with her, it must have been that morning. Obviously he was really torn up about the recent split.

So of course, I went to the apparent ex girlfriends page. She had a photo of the two of them together posted on the that day, and he’d commented on he photo saying “my princess” 

And THAT wasn’t the pièce de résistance, the highlight of my search, was when I found a post that she had posted on Mother’s Day, just one week before, stating she couldn’t wait to start trying for a baby! Of course he replied….”very soon”


WTF???? What the actual fuck? Such a class act. He’d told my mate he was single and asked if my mate knew any single chicks, all the while he was telling his young girlfriend that they would start trying for a baby soon??? Is it just me? Am I the only one that finds this unacceptable, behaviour? Not only treating this poor, young and very much better looking than him, girl in such a terrible way, but he thought I’d fall for his lies. Thought I was gullible enough to take him at his word. Thought that I was that I was so unintelligent that I would add 1+1 and come up with 27!

Honestly, do I only attract douchebags? I suppose I can be thankful that he was stupid enough to message me via Facebook. And no actual date eventuated. Thank God for small mercies!

Mothers Day

I’m going to say what I’m pretty sure most of us Mums really want for Mothers Day. What we want, but rarely get, especially when the kids are younger. What most mums won’t admit to, what we want, what we really, really want, is time away from the kids. Time not having to clean up after, organise and feed our beloved children. Time to do something we want to do without disruption, let our hair down, be pampered or party, whatever takes your fancy. Don’t get me wrong, I love my boys to bits, but if Mothers Day is about spoiling Mum, then surely we should get what we actually want, rather than some household appliance, dressing gown or slippers. 
Well……I don’t mean to brag, but,  that’s exactly what I got this weekend. My Mothers Day started early. It started yesterday. I had a wonderful afternoon yesterday, paintballing with my new, albeit second hand marker. (Never thought I’d be an owner of a gun!) I mean who wouldn’t want to celebrate Mother’s Day by being shot over and over again, coming home bruised and battered?? I love it! 


That was followed on by a night of football festivities with my other crazy non related family, drinking, eating pizza, playing games, singing, dancing, laughing and watching football. Playing  “Never have I ever” induced fits of laughter that had me in tears. I love being treated like one of the guys. We had an epic game of twister, during which my flexibility and contortionism was put to the test and was finally outmatched by 2 tactical geniuses. I would post photos, but what happens on a boys night, stays at the boys night……. unless they post shameless photos and videos on Facebook. 

Then went to bed for an uninterrupted sleep until 9am. Absolute heaven.

This morning I headed back home to see and pick up my boys for lunch at my sister’s house. I gave my Mum her present and card, and was really chuffed she like the card I got her. Love that we have the same sense of humour. 


 We had a delicious family lunch with my Mum, sister and her boys. After lunch we played pie face, an awesome game if you don’t mind getting covered in cream. 


After lunch the kids played whilst us girls chatted. We then chilled in the couch to watch a Trolls with the kids. It was just a lovely way to end a great weekend.

So thanks to both my families. Best Mothers Day ever!

Thanks Mum, Brook, Dean and Adam, for a great day today and my other family Jon, Jack, and Paul, with honourable mention to Alfie, the other Jack and Lucas for last nights Shenanigans. 

A shout out to all the ambos

It has recently come to my attention that paramedics don’t always have the highest opinion of nurses. I don’t know why they think so poorly of us. I certainly hope I’ve never offended anyone. But I think ambo’s/paramedics are bloody fantastic!

They have one of the hardest jobs in the world. First on the scene to car accidents, assaults, heart attacks, drug overdoses, drownings. If you can think of it, they’ve probably done it. Us nurses and midwives have the luxury of back up, we have our colleagues, other nurses and midwives, doctors, psychologists and even security when we need them. We also have all the equipment. Those awesome humans also known as paramedics don’t have any of that. They’re on their own, dealing with things we could only imagine. Dealing with people who can be, in no particular order- in pain, scared, grieving, drunk, high on drugs, hurling abuse, threatening with violence, bleeding, dying, giving birth….. any, or all of the above, and they do it with very little thanks or acknowledgement.  
So from this nurse and midwife to you paramedics out there. THANK YOU….. you guys rock.

And if you happen to drop off a patient in the middle of the night to my hospital, come and say hello to me in the emergency centre. I’ll make you a cuppa. Presently, I’m the one with the black eye

Wendy xx

An epic battle lost. 

An an epic battle occurred in my household this week, something akin to Rhonda Rousey taking a beating from Holly Holmes. I was the one who ended up worse for wear. My worthy opponent was left unscathed.

Let me set the scene……

I had come home from a very long nightshift, to find my son had cleaned the house! That in itself was a wonder, I thought the heavens would open and a choir of angels would sing Hallelujah! The dishes were done, the bedrooms and living rooms tidied, the floors vacuumed. I was in complete shock. I knew he’d done it to get his pocket money, but usually that’s not enough incentive do it, obviously he’s completely skint. After singing his praises, and transferring the aforementioned money into his bank account, I took the boys to school. Upon my return, I slipped off my Birkenstocks, cracked a cold Coke Zero and cooked my self some toast. 
With tomato on toast and a Coke Zero in hands, I made my to my very much loved couch. A few steps from my destination, I slipped on what I later realised was spray and wipe which my son had used to clean up his spilt coco pops and milk, on the tiles. Instead of attempting to break my fall with my hands, like a normal person, I instinctively tried to save my Coke and toast (you may now realise how I prioritise my food over my own welfare) I successfully saved both toast and Coke, whilst face crashed into the arm of my beloved couch. It may have brought a tear to my eye at the time, but wasn’t overly painful. So I sat myself down with feet up and enjoyed my breakfast prior to getting to bed, in child free peace.

Upon waking I realised my eye was sore. I attributed it to my being run down and sleep deprived from nightshift and I thought I had developed a sty in my eye. I shrugged it off and pottered around the house preparing dinner, ironing my uniform etc before hitting the shower to get ready for work. It was until I was in the bathroom that I saw what was causing my eye to be sore….. I had a black eye! It looked hideous, just on my right side underneath my eye, but hideous all the same. I thought about attempting to hide it, but after consulting my Facebook family, I owned it and walked into work as if I’d lost a fight to a worthy opponent.

My colleagues took great delight in regaling stories of my foray into UFC cage fighting, to anyone that would enquire about my injuries. My patients stole awkward glances at me, obviously thinking I was a victim of domestic abuse, until I explained my woeful story, luckily it gave them all a laugh. (I don’t think anyone really appreciates the lengths I go to, to make my patients laugh)

 My son apologised, for leaving unwiped spray and wipe on the floor, but as I said to him, I’d much rather a black eye than to have to do housework whilst doing my nights…… so thanks Dean xxx

My exciting week as a hermit 

So nothing too exciting to report this week from me.
BUT……. I’ve successfully transitioned into becoming a hermit. Can you believe it??? Success within a week!! I’ve spent my entire week off at home, doing hermit things, didn’t get to do the Netflix marathons as planned, as I was looking after my boys who have conveniently contracted gastro. That’s right people, don’t be jealous now, I had an entire week relaxing at home cleaning up vomit from every corner of Adam’s room, (unfortunately he hasn’t quite worked out how to vomit in a toilet bowl yet) Maybe he’ll master it in the next 15 years. Dean made it to the toilet, but missed the bowl. But luckily he can clean it up. I however, spent my Monday cleaning up vomit, washing vomit filled bed linen and clothes and tending to miserable boys. I spent a considerable amount of time moving Adam’s queen size bed trying to find an elusive vomit that I could smell but couldn’t see. He’d managed to squeeze an enormous vomit between the side of the bed and the wall. It looked like a Pro Hart masterpiece down there!


The smell permeated the whole house. I used 2 whole cans of Glen 20, then moved on to scrubbing the carpet with what I’ve found to be an amazingly adaptive product, a Sard Wonder stain remover spray. It removes the stains AND it removes the vomit smell and replaced it with refreshing eucalyptus. That’s a win/win for this hermit Mum. I’ll be stocking up on payday.

(The wonder product)

(Dean will kill me for that photo…. and yes, he’s wearing my dressing gown)

But the excitement doesn’t end there. In between loads of washing, scrubbing and deodorising, I played and lost games of words with friends. I know, everyone wants my life, you’re all very jealous.
(What on earth is an Etwee Paul?)

All I can say is Thank God for the one big night of friends, food, football and an amazing fountain filled with Margheritas. Thanks boys, it made my week. xx 

Online dating…… some clarifications

So….. I’ve been chastised by a friend, that I have been a bit one sided with my dating commentary. That I paint the men in a negative light, but aren’t so forthcoming with my actions. So this is for you Jon…..

Do I like having sex? You bet I do. I’m having my rebellious teenage years now. Having sex and drinking alcohol. 2 things I hadn’t really experienced properly until last year. Now I enjoy both. “General fuckstickery”….. if can quote the aforementioned friend.

Have I hooked up with a guy or two? Why yes, yes I have. Knowing full well what I was in for. No expectations. None of them ever said they were looking for a relationship.

Do I want a relationship? Yes, yes I do. For as much as I like sex, I want the whole package. I don’t want to go around sleeping with random men. I want someone to grow old with. We don’t have to get married, we don’t have to even live together, but I want some commitment from them, that they actually want to be in a relationship with me. That they want to go out with me, be seen in public together and maybe go away on holidays together. Be there for me when I have a bad day. Celebrate with me when things are great.

So when I blog about guys like the manchild and his tantrums, it’s not that I didn’t like sleeping with him, I did. Maybe he mistook the fact that I was very much enjoying seeing him, shall we say, on fairly frequent basis for action in the boudoir, maybe he mistook that to mean that, that was all I wanted. Maybe I am partly at fault. But….I did specify on everyone of these occasions that I wanted more. That I wanted to get to know him. That on my days off, I wanted to go on a date. What I have issue with, was his inability to accept that I wanted more, when he had emphasised early on, that that is what he wanted too. I wanted a proper relationship. He either changed his mind, or never was really interested in a relationship and wanted me to just have sex with him. But, the clincher was when he said I wasn’t allowed to keep looking for someone who wanted a relationship, whilst he was allowed to.. That’s my issue. The lies and double standards.

As to the CPAP wearing older man. I had a great time. I’d go back to visit him. Yes, he’s older and wears an elbow warmer to bed, but he’s a great conversationalist, intelligent, made me laugh and was fun in bed. So if I feel that if that’s what I need, another fun and entertaining night, I’ll certainly go back again. But it’s not what I’m looking for in the long term.

I hope that clears a few things up. I am not and will never be a man hater, I’m not a prude….and I love sex as much as the next person. If not more. 

As to my profile, the next time I try online dating. Apparently this should be my bio….

Is that better Jon?

PS, I still think you’re a dick xx

Becoming a hermit

I think I’ll become a hermit.

The recent bout of online dating has left me drained and emotionally battered. I’m also devastated that the plan to adopt 27 cats has been foiled, when I remembered I’m highly allergic. There’s not enough Zyrtec in the world to stop my eyes puffing up like Puffin Fresh donuts, or stop me wheezing like a 90 year old emphysemic patient, with only days to live. I have to apologise, the orders for decoupage boxes me also be delayed. As I’ve come to realise that I lack, well, shall we say, I’m completely devoid of both talent and the patience it takes to cut out millions of magazine pictures and arrange them in artistic way. Mine would end up looking like a creepy stalkers’ photo board.  

So I’ve changed my plans and decided to become a hermit. Not the crustacean kind, the kind where I voluntarily live in seclusion from society. Usually it’s done for “religious “reasons, but I’m doing for, “I can’t be bothered trying any more” reasons. 



I realise that working may pose a problem for my transformation into becoming a hermit, but I’m willing to sacrifice my career for my dreams. I’m no quitter. I could quite happily spend my days on the couch, binging on Netflix and my favourite movies on iTunes, eating popcorn and drinking Coke Zero. I could get my endless supply delivered to my doorstep. I also hear Dan Murphy’s delivers. So there really isn’t any obstacles to stop me achieving my dream. I think my full transformation will be complete by Thursday. I’ll will have had my two days off from work and children, so I should be well on my way to hermitism. (I know, I’ve made up that word, but it sounds good)

No dates, no people, no messaging, no sexts, no dick picks, just me, my TV and my best friend – microwave popcorn.

The only problem I can foresee, is that I am catching up with friends tomorrow night, I have a job interview on Thursday and I have to pick the kids up on Friday, maybe church on Saturday and ….oh…. And I might go to paintballing on Sunday and go out for the Arsenal v Spurs game Sunday night, but other than that….. I’m all good for hiding away at home.

Manners, where have they gone?

Over the last 2 weeks of school holidays, I’ve become more cranky than usual, today I realised why. Manners….. or lack thereof.

Now I was always taught to use manners, to be respectful, polite and kind to others. It’s just the way I was brought up. I had presumed that everyone was taught the same at home. I certainly hope that I’m doing the same with my sons. Although as teenagers, they don’t always respect their mother whilst at home, I generally get feedback that my boys are well behaved and have lovely manners whilst out. Thank God! I’d voluntarily relinquish my parent listener if that wasn’t the case.
But what do most people think manners are? Do the youth of today even know what having manners means? I don’t know whether it’s my emerging old woman crankiness, the fact that over half the population are now younger than me, or that people are just plain devoid of the ability to use manners. But I seem to come into contact with some very rude and ill mannered people of late.

People don’t hold doors open for others and kids don’t stand up on public transport for the elderly, disabled or heavily pregnant. In general people seem to be wrapped up in their own little bubble. Unaware, or just don’t care about people around them. What happened to “Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you”?? Or for those who don’t speak fluent bible. “Treat everyone as you would like to be treated”

What I’ve noticed whilst out and at work, is that not many other people have been raised with the same emphasis on manners. There’s no please and thank you. I’m lucky if I get eye contact. And if the patient remembers my name after looking after them for hours on end, I’m ready to set off fireworks and shower them in gifts! But those patients are few and far between. I’m not expecting gifts for doing my job, and I understand in an emergency their minds aren’t in the right place, they might be in pain or scared, or both, I really don’t expect anything from them. But it’s the non emergent patients and family. The ones that really should have gone to their GP, but still want to be seen and treated within minutes of their arrival. The ones that seem to forget that we have limited staff and other patients that need our assistance before we see them. I’m not asking for much, other than a please and thank you occasionally.

And don’t get me started on the drivers on the roads. When have we become so unAustralian that we no longer give the nod of acknowledgement when we someone flashes their high beams on letting us know of an upcoming speed trap, or a thank you wave when someone lets you in?

Surely I’m not the only the only one out there that still nods and waves! Dean and I have made a game of it. I let someone in and we wait for, hope for, the wave. I let someone in and we wait for, hope for, the thank you wave. But it’s a bit like Christmas eve, you’re all excited, waiting for Santa to come…… then you realise you’re an adult and Santa’s not coming and you’ve got to supply the presents and cook and clean and go through bed exhausted. Waiting for acknowledgement is a bit like that.

So tonight when I go to work, I’m going to up the ante. I’m going to let in as many people as I can on the drive to work, smile and say please and thank you as much as humanly possible and be thankful that I’m at work. If good manners can rub off and make a good impression on one person. It’s worth it.

So get out there and be nice, thoughtful and well mannered, people. Don’t get cranky and cynical like me xx

Online dating. Part 4, the final instalment….. for now.

Once again I am taking a well deserved break, a hiatus from the wondrous online matchmakers, from the time wasters and from the dick pic sending obsessed. (Yes, men, we know you have them, yes, I know you’re proud of your male members’ size, girth and ability to perform. But I do not need to see action shots or videos from your previously saved album. I just don’t need to see it! If I don’t know you, it does nothing but turn me off.)
I’ve come to the realisation I’m going to be alone forever. I’ve already starting looking at purchasing a litter of cats. British short hair are my cat of choice. With a chunky body and round, sad looking face, it’s like I’m looking in a mirror! 

I’ve preemptively joined a cat lovers club on Facebook and have restarted crocheting my winter blanket, so far 10 years in the making. 
Do people still do decoupage? As I feel it would be an appropriate hobby to start at this stage of my very single and depressing life. Anyone in need of a decoupage box? I’ll be taking orders soon.


So my last few dating experiences have been, let’s just say, akin to a multi-car pile up, on the freeway, in peak hour, during a heatwave, with the air conditioning on the blink. 
Where to start? I’ve had a few more dates that I’ve yet to mention, most of them weren’t too bad. But all have led me to saying goodbye to RSVP…… for now.
But I’ll start where I left off with the last blog. What I didn’t mention, the few details that I didn’t previously include which have had a few close friends in hysterics. The last guy I mentioned, the guy I hooked up with, the one that I knew was going to be a one night stand, but helped me recover from the man child I had been seeing, the one that was a great conversationalist, had fantastic taste in music, the 48 year old….. well….. that’s what he had on his profile. To set the mood, the lights were dimmed, we were slightly out of breath, we’d just partaken in some action in the bedroom, and after all was said and done, laying on the bed in postcoital bliss, he told me that he may have embellished on his profile. He wasn’t 48, he was 55! Was he the oldest guy I’d slept with? Holy moly, that’s only 15 years my senior! Of course it’s the oldest guy I’d slept with, I really haven’t had that many. (4 to be exact) and 55years old, was definitely the top of the list. He asked me if it bothered me. I replied that it didn’t, because, really, it’s not about the number, but how you act. But what did bother me, was that he lied on his profile. Why is it, that it’s okay for them to lie on their profile? He was upfront about everything else? Why lie about your age?? Oh well, too late by that point. It didn’t really worry me too much. 
But as we were drifting off to sleep, he asked if I would mind if he could put on his CPAP machine. Well….. ?What could I say??? No you can’t breathe tonight? I said no problem, and as he attached the machine to his face, then put on what only could be called an elbow warmer, I had to stifle a giggle. How quickly the mood had changed from sensual, to pure comedy. He must have seen my face and explained it…. kept his elbow warm, he had arthritis in it, after he’d had a fall and broken his arm. I couldn’t contain my laughter any more. I was in hysterics, I had just slept with a guy that was 55, which on it’s own wasn’t a big deal, but he’d had a previous fall, had arthritis, wears an elbow sleeve to keep it warm and needs a CPAP machine, to adequately breathe overnight, it was like I was taking a medical history from an elderly patient!! Once I’d recovered from my bouts of hysteria, we both fell asleep. After a few hours I snuck out, leaving the 55 year old sleeping to the gentle hum of the CPAP machine. 


Onto the next perfect match, or two. I actually think I may have had better luck on that 80’s tv show! I mean Dexter WAS pretty accurate. 

The 2 new matches. One was a truck driver, the other a government employee. 

The truck driver was very keen to start with, he worked shift work, so he understood my sleep/work pattern. He was great at texting, which is perfect for me, and he likes to travel. 

So we met for a date. A pub, it was nice, the food was nice, the conversation, a bit awkward. He was an over sharer….I mean, anyone who knows me, (or reads my blog) knows I’m pretty open, but there’s a few things I wouldn’t mention on a first date. He liked to talk himself up, talk about how he competed at national level in sport, toured overseas etc etc, he also name dropped all the doctors he was friends with. He also listed all of his assets. The properties he owned and the businesses he’s invested in. (To tell you the truth, I don’t care how much you’re worth, what you earn, or what you own, I care if you’re a good person, you can make me laugh and family means everything to you….. that’s about it) 
But what was to be the highlight of the date, was the vivid description of how his mother had died. How she had been in hospital for a minor procedure, was getting ready to go home and had had a fall whilst freakishly getting both arms caught and unable to break her fall. So she had fallen head first to the ground, her nose had been pushed back into her brain. As she lay there unconscious without assistance, her brain swelled so much her skull split! Then when he organised the coffin for her funeral, they had to get it specially made to accomodate the size of her head! The story being told, whilst I was attempting to eat chicken satay. I mean…. why???? Why would you tell that story on a first date???? Obviously he was traumatised, but why did I have to be? 
But silly me, I give people a second chance. I’d continue chatting with him. He obviously didn’t feel the same way, I didn’t react with enough enthusiasm to his stories, or I didn’t stroke his ego enough, so, his messages slowly reduced until he completely disappeared. So another one bites the dust.

And behind curtain number 2. Government worker and single Dad of one child. His beliefs and morals seemed to be aligned with mine, same sense of humour, likes to chat. So of course I was prepared for a terrible date. What was he hiding? Was he actually 60? Did he wear dentures? Did he have a weird fetish? Did he have a collection of toenail clippings he’d kept since 1974?

I nervously went to the date, a lovely pub in Guildford. He was early, waiting for me. Always a winner, when they are punctual. He had a lovely smiling face and was quietly spoken. He too, looked a bit nervous.

He was so sweet and had taken the time to make a bit of a game, some questions cards to ask each other to get to know each other, to avoid the awkward silences, to have a bit of a laugh at each other. It worked, it worked really well. We had a laugh, and knew more about each other that we never would have just in normal conversation in the same time frame. We had a not so great meal, but I really enjoyed the company and conversation. After dinner we had a walk around Guildford. Before saying our goodbyes. On the way home I called my bestie to tell her how well it all went. The best date ever!
It was a lovely night and the over the next week, we continued to chat and message. It was so easy, my cynical view of online dating was starting to waver. I’d finally met a decent guy, one who didn’t lie, one who had similar views to me, who had gone through many of the same things I had. Until…… there’s always an until. Until, I get a message, A very long message, that explained how regretfully he couldn’t start a relationship, that he needed to spend his time on his child that was having a few issues. That he couldn’t commit whilst she needed him.
Of course I understood, your kids come first, but I was devastated. Back to my cynical view of online dating.
So for all those that have enjoyed my dating adventures, I’m sorry, I’m having another break. Don’t worry though, give me a few months and I may try another site. But until then, the blogs won’t stop! I’ve had so many people tell me some of their stories, that I’ve got heaps of dating material. 

Wendy xxx