What about those Happy-Never-After people?

     I still remember the day I began to ponder serious love. I was 17 and driving through the city with a friend- we wondered, what was it going to be like when our friends started having children and getting married on purpose? What was it going to be like to tell our parents we’re engaged to someone and it not upset them, yet excite them? Well… here we are.

Welcome to the age of Facebook Timelines being filled with engagement announcements, wedding countdowns, ultrasound pictures and “welcome to the world…” posts. Don’t get me wrong- good for you; I’m happy you’re happy! At my age (25), both sets of grandparents and my parents were already married. 

But I’m just not there yet.

From Carrie Hilgert

A few weeks ago, while rummaging through my grandparents’ attic, I found a large wooden box. Papers fell out on to the floor. These papers were letters written between my grandma and grandpa, some dating as far back as 1947. I sat cross-legged mesmerized by what I was seeing. The pages were filled with beautiful designs, poems, drawings and pages upon pages of one-sided conversation (and to think you’re scared to double text). I won’t share the written contents, as it’s not mine to do, but believe me when I tell you, Hallmark would struggle to even come close. Last night my grandpa gave me an article from the Spectator, titled “Modern Love is Rubbish”. The article aims to inform the reader of how doomed my generation is, with our romance and courtship consisting of Tinder, Snapchat, Facebook friend requests and sexting- bring on that instant gratification eh! Gone are the days when the only phone was the one stationed in the kitchen and if you had Tom, Bill and Jack calling on a Thursday night, I’m sure your parents would start asking questions. People now text when they're outside, they don't come to the door. You don’t wait an extra 30 minutes at the bar if someone doesn’t turn up because your phone is attached to the wall in the kitchen, but instead you send an angry text and if they don’t write back within the minute, off you go- delete, unfollow, block- NEXT! No more written letters to communicate and divulge how you feel, that can be done through a Tweet or an Instagram quote. Now, after the first date you eagerly wait for their name to pop up on your phone and after waiting 30 seconds (not wanting to let your phone know your too excited), you open that message and the screen lights up, revealing “Hey, how are you?” oh, and maybe an emoji if they’re really interested.

This past weekend (Valentines) my Facebook revealed three new engagements, two wedding anniversary’s, one wedding countdown, one baby announcement and many, many baby photos. Generally two groups exist: those who have found their soul mate and those who, well… haven’t. In the ‘haven’t’ group, are those who are completely fine (even happy) with that and then there are those who are about to buy seven cats and a life supply of Cadburys chocolate. So what happens when you think you’ve found Mr. Right? But he turns into Mr. Please Never Call Me Again? Because with the age of happy-ever-after’s also comes the age of happy-never-after’s. As many of my friends become engaged and married, just as many are going through breakups and realizing that who they thought was someone they could spend forever with, is actually someone they won’t even spend another night with. Article upon article and meme upon meme give a very descriptive, in-depth recount of how a woman deals with something like heartbreak. But what happens when it happens to the man? Do they even care? Are they even bothered? Or is it on to the next Tinder date?

Almost a year ago, I wrote a post “A New York minute with a New York man”. The blog consisting of an interview I had with a friend of mine, his alias being Chuck Bass (CB). He has always reminded me of the ficitional character from Gossip Girl (see below). 

 “A New York minute with a New York man”.

He works on Wall Street (New York City), he’s young (26), ambitious, slightly arrogant (but wouldn’t you be?), handsome and newly single. After speaking with him about these things, he agreed to once again be interviewed. Here are some answers, one man talking to a woman, from the side we don't always "see".

1. Have you ever dated a woman you haven't see a future with?  

Yes, but more importantly, haven't we all? 

2. Why? 

At least for me, I never initially thought there was no chance of a future it was always more of a "I have a good time with you, let's see where this goes" type of deal. And so you see and you learn.  

3. What's the first thought that enters your head once you know the break up is actually happening? 

I'm trying to think...probably fear, panic, anxiety. A combination of all of them at once would probably be the best description. But I guess it really depends on the breakup. I've had two distinctly different breakups, one right after the other. 

4. Do boys want to climb into bed and cry too? 

Yep, absolutely. If anyone tells you otherwise, they're lying.  

5. Often girls try to reinvent and rebuild themselves after a breakup- is this the same for men? 

I mean the nature of a breakup naturally wears and strips you down. Maybe a little, maybe a lot. There's a rebuilding that is definitely required, and yes, even for men. And probably even a little (or a lot if you really need it) reinventing, unless you learned absolutely nothing from the breakup. It's safe to say, even if a breakup is mutual and cordial there is always something you can learn to improve yourself. 

6. Do guys lean on their friends the same way a girl does after a break up? 

Absolutely. First thing I've done in any case was call my good friend up. That and tell my mom. 

7. Is everyone searching for a someone? Are men looking for the happily ever after? 

So I will say this. There are most definitely people who are not and never will be searching for anyone. And they do exist and its completely fine. In my experience, they know its something they don't want and won't work for them. That being said, maybe men stereo-typically aren't looking for someone as much as women stereo-typically are (stereo-types here, not actually), but I know quiet a few men who want to fall in love and live happily ever after, including myself.

8. How much work is too much work in a relationship? 

When the work starts becoming more destructive than constructive to the relationship. Don't get me wrong though, relationships require as much work as anything else in life you can imagine and it certainly is not always easy and maybe it even shouldn't be sometimes. 

9. How do you know when it's just not working anymore? 

When you start getting into issues of respect for each other. When its a strain or very one sided. As soon as the mutuality of the relationship ceases to exist,you know there is a large chance something is going on. 

10. Which is easier to dump or be dumped? 

Yikes. Tough question. I guess initially it is harder to dump, than be dumped because you just have to get past the initial conversation and then if you can execute it, ignore the whole situation. Getting dumped however, is a more complex and lasting effect. I guess I'll say that they're equally hard in their own ways. 

11. Long distance relationships- are they doable?  

In my experience, no. Have I known couples to pull it off, yes. Just something that's not for me, but I guess that could  always change depending on who you meet. 

12. The deal breaker for you and most men would be? 

 Another tough question. I guess when it becomes apparent that there a distinct difference in the way each party feels about the other. That or the significant other's "extracurricular" activities get in the way of a the civility of the relationship.

13. A break up is harder if.... 

There's someone else. You're in love.You're insecure. Umm, this list could go on and on... 

14. Winning someone back- doable? 

Yep, but caution on deciding to go down that route. 

15. Seeing an ex for the first time, just as difficult for a man as a women? 

Dreadful.

16. Friends with an ex- yes or no? 

 Both.

17. Girls tend to discuss break ups, until they  are all discussed out- men do the same? 

Personally, I discussed initially and then it eventually tapered off as  I became better at handling it internally. There are always those select few friends you have that you'll always keep bringing questions up to though.

18. Rebounds- are they really a thing? 

I think they are.Or maybe I know they are. Or maybe I was one! (I think, haha)

19. Forgetting an ex is best done how? 

Unfriend, unfollow, cut it all. 

20. If it's meant to be it'll be- true or false? 

True. Life has its twists and turns who knows what happens years down the  line and how you will change from your experiences. If there was really something true and meaningful above all the rest, something usually results from that. 

21. Best thing that works for you when moving on?  

Surround yourself with friends and family and stay on-the-go. Go be flirty, get some positive attention in your life. And take a trip home if you haven't been for a while. There's nothing like going back to your roots where your main team is there to support you.

As I went over these answers and I read through my own writing, my grandpa (aged 85) asked to read it. After pondering the content for a few moments, he simply said:

 "You’re living in a very different world to what we did and if your time doesn’t work out like ours did, its not your fault, it's the fault of changing times. It could be that the world has just changed".

And change it has. Even in my short life span I've noticed it. While some changes may not seem positive for relationships, some surely are. I see the benefit in being able to block someones number instead of having to ask the postman to NOT deliver any more letters, but to in fact burn them all. There are benefits in being able to send a text when you're running late, when you want to see someones face or when you want to say you're sorry. There are benefits to being able to instantly let someone know you're thinking of them, even when they're across the ocean. There is always good and bad. It's a balancing game I suppose. So here's to a changing world and learning to spin with it.

R x

"Half a heart, beating over the ocean".

"Yes darling, it's cancer". 

I stare at the floor that I know is there, but can't see. It's 4am, I am on the toilet, sitting in the dark, hiding myself from the words I just heard.  I live in New York and I've just been told my Mum has tongue cancer. I crawl back into bed, "my Mum has cancer" whispering, as though someone might speak back through the night and tell me I was wrong. 

Three weeks pass and I say my goodbyes to New York as though it's my first born child. I think of all my favourite things we can do together. I visit my favourite coffee shops, restaurants, parks, stores, friends, I dye my hair and I even say goodbye to the clubs, as though I may never taste belvedere again. 

I pull photos from the walls, peel dressers from hangers, the sheets from my mattress and the rug off the floor. I empty my Manhattan bedroom into 10  large black garbage bags, 3 black suitcases, a maroon carry on and a black leather handbag sure to cause back problems later in life. And just like that my New York life was thrown, stuffed, folded, rolled, placed and shoved into any space I could fit it. Gone.

I almost couldn't bare to see it... so bare. I had just spent the last 5 days saying goodbye to every person that meant something to me, every place, every memory, I went back to it and parted with it- my Mum has cancer, who knows when I will be back. But did I have to do it with my room too? Enough goodbyes, I need some hellos. Z and I spend the morning searching for matching rings, something we had been meaning to do and panicked when realising today was the last. We hailed the first taxi and sped downtown, sped was our plan, but crawl was our reality being caught in traffic. I needed these rings, because they will make the distance seem less, right? Right. 

We heaved each bag down three flights of stairs, seeming more like boulders being carried down cliffs. In my head I keep saying "I change my mind! WAAAIT! I'm not ready!". Each level of the apartment building I get too, I begin the bargaining  "we can turn around right now Rachel, you're still here ... But you can't - just keep moving". I stand in front of my door, posing for one last photo. Maybe I could just stay? No you can't, you can't, keep going. 

We each take up positions on either side of 9th avenue, purposely standing away from the suitcases to trick the taxi driver. Several taxis pass who refuse to go to La Guardia. I'm going to miss my flight. Finally someone stops, we pile my life into the trunk and under our feet. Goodbye home. 

I don't cry much. My sunglasses are on. But I don't cry much. Each suitcase weighs exactly 50 pounds, no more and no less than I'm allowed. I don't look out the window for long, in fear it may trigger some mental break like Kristin Wigg from the movie Bridesmaids. Off I go, back to Australia. Back to reality. Back to cancer. 

Within two days I am working, and within two weeks I have a car. Life is sorted. Week three and Mum goes into hospital. She is having half her tongue and both lymph nodes in her neck removed. Life now is different. A month ago I was sipping wine with a NYC skyline. And here I am. But it's ok. The doctor phones to tell me her four hour surgery went well "she's stable". I drive to the hospital, and wait three hours for her to come onto the ward from recovery. What was taking so long? Why isn't she out of recovery? The nurse comes to see me "I'll let you know when she arrives", with her soothing smile. I clear my throat as to not sound like Kristen Wigg having a mental break again "what if somethings happened? Is this normal to take so long?!". Not long after and she's wheeled past me and I'm told to wait 10 minutes. Do you have any idea how long 10 minutes is? It's 600 seconds and I noticed every single one. Up until 6 months ago, no one in my family had been sick and no one had died- things always worked out. But somehow, things hadn't been working out. June 4th my Uncle died, July 27th my Ma died and now in October my Mum is laying in a hospital bed with cancer and they're telling me to wait 10 minutes?! If one more person told me to be positive I was going to kick them in the shin. I was being positive, I AM positive but hey, guess what- this sucks. Like really really super hugely sucks. 

I'm not sure if anything can prepare you to see someone you love laying in a hospital bed, oxygen mask covering their mouth, tubes in their nose and drains coming from their neck - unable to speak without wincing in pain. Not traveling, not even living in New York, will prepare you for that. For the next 6 days I watched her learn to speak, learn to smile and learn to eat. Her recovery began with eating apple puree, who knew it would look as though she was swallowing rocks. I looked down at my hands, as if they didn't belong to me. I was shaking and I couldn't stop. At that moment I wanted to both push the doctor out the window and yell "no more apple puree!" and then sprint out of the hospital room, never to return again. But this was all harder for her than it was for me. So I stayed. And each day she became stronger, making friends with other women on the ward and when day 6 arrived, she was able to come home.  Three weeks have now passed and the cancer has gone. Thank you world, she made it.

So here I am, back in Australia - back home. It's as though nothing but at the same time, everything has changed. Thats me and thats everything else. But mainly thats death. The death of my Uncle and my Ma, who both passed while I was away, have left my world here forever different. But death, I have learned, is inevitable. It will continue to rear its head so I must learn to adjust. And a life without them in it, will also have to be. As Lena Dunham has said of death:

“But occasionally the feeling stays with me, and it reminds me of being a child — feeling full of fear but lacking the language to calm yourself down. I guess, when it comes to death, none of us really have the words".  

No matter what I do, or what I say or pretend to feel - something is still pulling inside. I always said New York had become home, but those words would never ring more true than when I landed back here in Australia and felt that, oh. I'm blessed to live in Sydney, the Northern beaches, arguably some of the most beautiful beaches in Australia and/or the world. I have wonderful friends and wonderful family. However, I have half a heart still alive and well, beating over the ocean, deep in the streets of New York City.

"I believe I'm meant to see the world and travel, to be in places that sometimes make me sad and lonely. To be out of my comfort zone completely. I believe I'm meant to be surrounded by shitty people at times so I can wake up everyday and appreciate the significant ones. As trivial as I may be in this enormous universe, this keeps me humble, and for that I am thankful ".

 So to those that wonder, should I go? Should I travel? Should I leave? I say DO IT! Pack up, get on that plane and go. Push that doctor out the window (no don't really) but go! Sprint! 18 months in America has been the most life changing experience. There is nothing that compares and perhaps nothing that will. And while it didn't prepare me for cancer, it prepared me for much more. I learned life and death happen wherever you are and to cherish every second. I fell in love with places and people I didn't even know existed. I have dreams of another time, another place. I can relive those memories and I speak to some of my friends over there, every single day, time difference or not - they're part of my life now. Those moments I created are forever mine. That city stimulated my brain like a hay barn on fire. I don't know what will come next, but I know i'll be back in that city before long, for however long it may be. I will forever be blessed with two places I call home. Two big cities full of people I love.

“At the bottom of her heart, however, she was waiting for something to happen. Like shipwrecked sailors, she turned despairing eyes upon the solitude of her life, seeking afar off some white sail in the mists of the horizon. She did not know what this chance would be, what wind would bring it her, towards what shore it would drive her, if it would be a shallop or a three-decker, laden with anguish or full of bliss to the portholes. But each morning, as she awoke, she hoped it would come that day... ”.

― Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary

R xx

There is no road less travelled.

Life is today.

Fact.

However, I have a tendency to think about tomorrow and the next day and the next, and is there life after death? You get the point.

Monday I was on the bus travelling from the airport and a man, who could have been my fathers age, sat towards the back and phoned his parents.

“Hey Ma! Guess what, I’m in New York! I know Ma… Yeah, it was kinda last minute, I know… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I have to do this for myself… I’ll pay you back soon, I promise”.

It got me thinking, there’s a fine line between finding yourself and losing yourself. I don’t know the mans story, and perhaps he is very happy, with his life in order. But I got the feeling he was still searching, and perhaps to his own demise?

We've all heard of the “the road less travelled”, which when Googled consists of paths weaving off into a beautiful forest. As if it’s some mystical adventure, with few who have lived to tell the story. Many look from a distance but stay where they are.  While some decide to wander off onto this road, stay too long and never get back on… to anything, ever. Others accidentally fall off the cliff hiding to the right and others become distracted by the birds and dance off into the distance.  BUT, and there’s always a but… some flourish, radiate and do more than just survive, they become alive. But, was that really the road? Or the person?

There’s a reason why travel, a change in occupation or setting off into the night alone, away from all of those we love, (referred too as the road less travelled) is rarely done, rarely commended and more often than not, feared. Because, in search of themselves, some people stay permanently lost. Like the man on the bus perhaps? In search of himself, did he lose himself? Was he so busy trying to find the road that he missed it?

I live in a world, where young adults are in constant conflict. Often it can feel like we have 1 of 2 options. Get into a top University, work our brains off, graduating top in the class. Land a job working for a company leading in the profession, promising a steady income with great career progression. Others are tempted to pick the apple from the tree, set off into the big wide world, walk streets they've never been too, talk to strangers, taste foods they can’t even pronounce and look up at the stars in wonder and think “what the hell am I doing here? Crap, should I go back now?”  But the crazy thing is, if you’re doing one, you’re often wishing you were doing the other. And usually, you can't do both at the same time. It's an internal battle to do better, be better, see more, earn more. 

As a girl, if you had straight hair you wanted curly and if you had curly, you wanted straight. What you don’t have, you want. But is the road less travelled complete rubbish? (no offence Robert Frost). Life is full of contradictions and this is surely one, because “walk a mile in my shoes” just goes to show, not one road is the same, so essentially we are all going down our own roads that are less travelled?

Whatever road we’re on, let it be just that – a road. No better or worse. We are all trying to find ourselves, but don't get so fixated that you lose yourself in the process. I decided to do my searching in the streets of New York City, but it may have turned out to be the nights alone in my bedroom staring at the ceiling that made the difference. I thought it was the road less travelled, but then I met so many people on the road that I wanted to push them off to give me some space to breathe again! And I realised, it wasn't any less travelled at all. 

There is a fine line between exploring and waisting time. I've been gone for 1.5 years now and I've decided to pull this New York adventure to a close 2 months earlier than planned. A mixture of reasons, and one being that my days were rolling by and I realised I'd squeezed the sponge for all its got. New York has been an amazing ride, I met people who will stay in my life forever, I've tasted some incredible food, learnt to be a little more assertive and yesterday I used my skills from high school athletics, needing to literally jump over a homeless man wedged in my front door, again. 

While I've been here, others are studying abroad, some working towards careers, getting married, building a family, working or studying. Every road imaginable being filled by hundreds everyday. I realised, it's time to stop worrying about the road, and more about the brain thats walking us down it. Just take a look at Instagram. Our feeds are full of #life (88 million) and #love (673 million) quotes, everyone has their own philosophy when sitting behind an iPhone screen. We love to post quotes saying "if its meant to be it'll be", but for the man laying outside of my apartment building this morning, his head cracked open from presumably falling onto the pavement, with no one around him but the owner of the grocery store - things didn't work out so good. 

So yes, life is today. But don't forget about tomorrow and remember to learn from yesterday. Worry less about the road and build that brain up to take you onward and upward.  

xxx