About ME

A bit about me (well a lot about me).

Part One: How did I get to 40 and miss the norm of meeting a guy, get married and have a baby?

Hi, I'm Sarah and I am 43, actually sorry, 44. I just keep getting older and I have literally stopped counting my birthday. I had a great 20’s straight from studying with my mates at uni and partying, then post graduation I was off to see the world and backpacked Euorpe and North America with my boyfriend at the time.  Once back, I was in my late 20’s and I had never had a full time job and our relationship was seriously dysfunctional. We took a while to ‘consciously uncouple’ (which wasn’t even a saying back then) but eventually we broke- up and I had the next relationship happening as we were sewing up the final fragments of the last one. I sort of bounced into another relationship, bringing more than a backpack of baggage with me. It was around this time, I found a group of friends that loved to party as much as I did and we partied our way through to our 30’s together, having the time of our lives  (back when Sydney had a nightlife and I had the stamina to keep up with it). Any goals I had at that time were to discover myself, I worked for New Corp and studied acting at night and radio on the weekends. My ambition was to be successful and I was hell bent on getting there.

When I was 30 I had the biggest party I couldn’t afford, with the second boyfriend, who I had known my whole adult life. I thought we were going to end up married with kids one day – just not now, I had other things on my mind and that thing was my career. I got accepted into AFTRS and quit my job to study full time to become a radio presenter. As with anything to do with timing, it went downhill when my boyfriend’s Dad died at the time that I was off to study and had plans to move for work at the end of the year. We just couldn’t get our timing to work and the relationship started to fall apart. We kept patch working the situation but each year there was another leaky hole and after 7 years of trying to keep this leaky and sinking ship afloat, he left one day – into the arms of someone else. He got married and had 2 kids and left me behind with some shattered memories, a flat in Brisbane  but kindly (insert sarcasm) left me the washing machine and the couch we had just bought together!

I was 35.

And I thought my life was over. Actually I didn’t even think it. I knew it. In my head with the maths, it would take at least 2 years to get over him, 2 years to rebuild my life, meet someone, get them to fall in love with me and then propose, marriage then kids….um I was running out of years and I started to mourn the children and the life I would never have. I was grieving for my future and it was a raw, gut wrenching period that was full of loss, hurt and the future was hard to forsee. He robbed me of precious years I could never get back and that….was…that!

I literally went down a sink hole along with the left over peas and carrots after the washing up. I was used, I was done and I would never have kids of my own. My sister had her first child at this time, I became an Aunty and I figured this was the best I would get. I love my nieces with my whole heart, meanwhile my friends were all having kids and the best I could do was chime in about my nieces. Not really the same thing is it?

Strangely around this time, I started to get the attention of much younger men, I mean – much – younger – men. I do not know how this happened. Yes I was hanging out with a younger crowd. I didn’t really have much choice, my friends kept getting married and having kids so I would have to make new friends and they kept getting younger as I got older. It was also some of the most fun times of my life. I bought a new car, an apartment, made it my own and created a new life albeit with a young but fun group of friends (which are still some of my besties today). We had girlie weeks away, we went overseas, we went to work functions and all of this is a whole other blog which one day I may direct you to but for now, let’s just say the young guys kept rolling in and it was fun but it was not getting me any closer to meeting ‘the one’ or ‘anyone’ really and eventually I decided I needed to move back to Sydney and put down some more ‘mature’ roots.

I was now in my late 30’s and seriously slogged it out at work for the following 5 years. I worked for a major radio network in a national role, so I was always busy. I am talking HARD LABOUR. I worked my arse off and was battling it out amongst the advertising media world, where there are some big hitters who didn’t care if you did 50 hours overtime in a week, as long as they had what they needed it in their hands along with a hot coffee. In hindsight it was bullshit but hey, I didn’t have anything else going on in my life, so I just slogged it out. And slogged it out. I had designer bags and sunglasses and every year I took a 5 week trip overseas and travelled my way through some very cool parts of the world on my own. Because I could, I had worked hard and I deserved to see the world! I was entitled and was working to get a better paid job so I could do more of this on repeat! I spent all my hard earned cash because I was single and even though what I really wanted was to have a family, all I had was a hole in my heart that needed to be filled – so I poured possessions all over it instead, so that at least I looked well dressed to a future partner.

The guys I started to meet were basically male versions of me but in a much bigger badder way - money, power and pure arsehole. They thought I was fabulous and then they would disappear, or had a hidden girlfriend or freaked out about my age or just grrrr, blergh, dergh I dunno. I was meeting the Sydney underbelly of men. The leftovers. The good guys are decent people and they get married young and respectful, loyal and remain so. There are others, ambitious ones who move to New York and London and have exotic girlfriends or wives that they bring home once a year to Australia for Christmas. Then you are left with the ones who are on the re-bound from a spiteful relationship 10 years ago and can’t let go and don’t really want you but taunt you anyway. Then there are the bottom feeders, the ones who simply never could and never will get their shit together. They are the ones who are just floating around on the bottom of the sea bed, bouncing from one bit of debris to the next and bringing all sorts of shit along with them for the journey. I met them all and nothing good ever came out of it.

Part Two: So then I met this guy....I was 38 and he was 5 years younger.