Cutting down the Christmas list

Frequent flyers with Air I Miss 1985 will know that I like a band called My Life Story. A lot. If I had to recommend a song to introduce the uninitiated to the band it would be 'Penthouse in the Basement'. In fact, if I'd had the wit I might have named this blog after it too as it is about the ending of a relationship.

My favourite lyrics are: 'And in the wasteland of our bed / where you lay your head / on seven different stale perfumes / on my pillowcase'. This has nothing to do with the rest of this post, it's just I love those lines, even though they don't represent my current lack of love life at all (just in case my parents or my ex's solicitor is reading this...)

The lines that do chime are: 'I'm gone, do you hear? / I'm cutting down my Christmas list this year' because with the approach of the festive period I'm horribly aware of how limited my Christmas list has become. Firstly, my beloved Nan died last weekend and so I won't be visiting BHS to buy her traditional Christmas Cardi this year nor choosing cards with pictures of poinsettias on the front and long verses inside (because she liked the sentiments). I'm going to miss her at Christmas, a lot.

Furthermore, I don't know where I stand with my ex's son (my ex-step son?). I used to go out to buy his main present as my ex wasn't arsed with that job. Or at least he would buy it, as long as he could buy a Leeds United team shirt and hand it over, unwrapped, in a carrier bag. I have to say it hurt like hell the other week when my ex's son was taken out for his birthday meal by my ex and the new girlfriend. I've also idly toyed with being 'Bitchy by Kindness' with said new girlfriend. Maybe I could really, really embarrass and fluster her by sending a card or a present. What about a DVD of 'The First Wives Club' or maybe something more literary like, say, the play script of 'Tis Pity She's a Whore'?.

Also, I don't have a husband to buy for. It seems weird not to be thinking about him in terms of a Christmas present. He was always hard to buy for but I think I did OK (and significantly better than some of the random stuff he bought me. Like brown walking boots. I ask you). This also means I won't get a main present. I know it's better to give than to receive but the idea that, aged 37, pretty much every present I get will be from my Mum, irrespective of whose name is on the 'from' tag, makes me feel like a bit of a loser. Don't get me wrong - I love and appreciate my Mum and all the effort she puts in - but at my age there ought to be someone else in my life to buy my main Christmas present and there isn't.

What do I want for Christmas? Maybe not seven different stale perfumes on my pillowcase. But one new aftershave might be nice...

So this is my life story

Sat nav is an amazing creation of this century, it shows you where you are now and how to get to where you want to go. And if you have half a brain you will even know the difference between Newcastle-upon-Tyne and Newcastle-under-Lyme and not end hundreds of miles astray, wandering around hopelessly and asking Black Country types why you can't see the Angel of the North. Amongst many things, my ex was completely anti sat nav. He much preferred the spiritual and geographical purity of having huge sheets of Ordnance Survey maps completely blocking out the front view of the windscreen and blazing rows about where we might be and which turn-off was the correct one. Another thing he despised was my music taste. At first he pretended to be into the bands I liked, but by the end he treated everything with disdain. Foremost in the pantheon of bands he hated were the mighty, mighty My Life Story (or 'My Wife's Tory' as he called them. Chortle. Not).

So, last night I did two, maybe three things, he would completely disapprove of. Firstly, I went to Manchester (a place he calls Scumchester). Secondly, I got there by using my sat nav. And finally, I went to an acoustic set played by Jake Shillingford of My Life Story. Now, I'd have to set up an entirely different blog to properly introduce you to the immense gorgeousness that is My Life Story but I know it won't succeed because the only people I've ever met who actually like them are my friends. You know who you are.

If my life story had sat nav the journey would go like this. In the late 1980s I took the route of being very shy and a total square who rarely left the house and had few friends. In the early 1990s I took a left and headed straight down A1 party girl territory. I was a bit of a glamour-puss and have lots of 'things I did when I was gorgeous' stories. In 1997 I bore right and met my ex and for a while the road was straight and fast to 'happy ever after'. In 2002 I got pregnant and I got stuck in the cul-de-sac of stay at home all the time, have no friends, be a bit square, whilst having a dreadful relationship. Then new year 2008 my life's sat nav recalculated and my ex took a right straight out of my life. At this point I set the sat nav for total new road and last night I arrived at one desired destination.

I got a cuddle from Jake Shillingford and I have photographic evidence that it happened on my Facebook. Wibble. Incoherency. Giggle. Woo-bloody-hoo. I made a bit of a twat of myself as I couldn't string lucid sentences together but he was very lovely and chatted regardless of my utter girly patheticness.

This post is dedicated to The Dedicated. We sparkle and shine. And we're the only ones who understand those words.

Two-faced, me?

Lots of things are proving to me that I'm two-faced. I don't mean that I spend my whole life air-kissing past people's cheeks one moment and then turning to slag off the size of their arse the next. No, I'm learning that I have two faces and they look in very different directions.

Most women have these two faces but I'm not sure that we are conscious of it. The first is the face our friends see. Women are most the person they are, deep down, when they're with their friends. The other face is the one the person we're in a relationship sees: it looks identical but it's very different. Because this face represents the person that we've become in THAT relationship. Sometimes women are almost the same person with their friends that they are with their partner, and I reckon these are the happiest couples. At the other extreme there are two entirely different faces because you have to change your expression dramatically to cope with the relationship you're in. I barely saw my friends with my ex as it was impossible to maintain these two masks at once. The scrutiny of publicity made it clear that what was on show wasn't a face, it was a facade.

Last night my real face was on show because old friends came over. Ironically two of my bridesmaids were at my house whilst my ex's best man was at his flat. I know what face my ex showed: it's always the same. Me? Well, there was no facade and a huge beam all over my face. I'm not in a relationship right now and you know what? I'm enjoying not being two-faced.