The making of a lady.

Tonight I watched the period drama, the Making Of a Lady. I hadn't intended to watch it and even missed the first few minutes but the beauty of the property used for Polstrey drew me in. I did spend a while trying to find out if it was a National Trust property but despite my own self confessed brilliance at searching the Internet I couldn't find any reference to it. I did, however, find a write up about it which help me understand the earlier, missed, part of the story. So the heroine wants to marry for love but due to her circumstances comes to an arrangement with a Lord to have a marriage of convenience to them both. The scenes between them show a true loving couple and you can see the path their arrangement (aside from the troubles they find themselves in) is heading in and it is a real Cinderella romance.

I, on the other hand, never believed in love or marriage. Poppycock! When I was younger I felt marriage licences should be valid for certain lengths of time 5 years, 10 years; with the option to have a rethink after the licence period was up. That was until I met (this is where I should insert - THE LOVE OF MY LIFE - but anyone following this blog will know the use of those words have dropped off to almost non existence) my OH (that seems to be the way some of the world refer to the people that they are obviously not that attached to. It doesn't sound very attached does it. Does it?) Anyway I digress. It was as if we were reunited. That in a past life we had been cruelly separated (add relevant dramatic music) but now we had found each other and we were destined to be together forever this time. What a crock of shit that turned out to be. How did I not see it? How did I go from not believing in love and marriage to thinking I'd found some lost part of me. And believe I did. For over 12 years. That was until I watched my OH DM (private message for those not on Twitter) some woman to say he loved her and wanted to be with her. From our bed when he thought I was asleep. I still can't get over how sick that was but hey ho. That was the Canadian woman. Turned out it wasn't her, or wasn't just her, I maybe should say.

I'm sure you can go back to the beginning of the blog if you want to take the roller coaster with me. Anyway, it happened apparently because I didn't show that I loved him. But then when I saw the private messages on his dirty account with her who shall not be named he explained to her that soon after marrying me he realised I wasn't the one. SOON AFTER MARRYING ME. Well, it might have been helpful if he had given some indication at some point at least during those years, maybe? There I was, like the cat that got the cream, with my one, my life only he wasn't my life, my one. He wasn't my anything. He loves me now. So he says. And yes we are more honest with each other. Closer some ways except I feel like my heart is locked away for safe keeping since I can't be trusted with it. And I disappoint him every time I say I hope so after he says he loves me. But it doesn't really matter if he doesn't does it. I've already been broken; the irreparable damage has been done. I'm a Gemini so you can't lay all that on me and then expect me to think the fairy tale was ever real. SOON AFTER...echoes in my mind. Pretended to love me for years but didn't so how the hell can be love me now? Yes I hung in there I did what I needed to keep my family together and his drinking is less of a worry for myself, the children and for him. But for me the fairy tale has been forever damaged. It's one thing not to believe in love, marriage and fairy tales but it is quite another to have the fairy tale ripped from you. It was lovely, if heartbreaking, to see the scenes they played out in the Making Of a Lady. At least fairy tales are still alive and kicking in films and tv shows as much as it turned on the water works for me. Someone's got to keep the dreams alive. As for me it's a timely reminder of the need to get swiftly back to me discovering me.