This whole week has mainly been “bad sensories” stuck-in-the-bedroom days and I am not handling it with mindful philosophical calmness. Bedroom days can either be nice contemplation and napping days or “pick at the scab at the edge of your sanity and eat it” days. Mainly, this week has been the latter.
Stuck on a bed with a sad little girlie who is feeling terrible in her own skin, and is too scared to be by herself (definition of ‘by herself’ = about 3 metres away from me), my mind haemorrhages increasingly odd, paranoid thoughts and seeks all kinds of perverse diversion.
Since I’ve been a stay-at-home Mum, (let alone a stuck-in-the-house-with-the-worried-autistic-kid mum), I have really missed water-cooler-type conversations.
That quick exchange about the weather, last night’s TV or the state of the nation with some random cute lad from Finance; if you were lucky, a joust with the IT director about the shit printer or the bristling miserable HR woman about the work summer party (lack of).
I like to chat to strangers. Feel the comfort of strangers. Freak out the nice women who work in Waitrose:
“So are you off to work then? You’re a little late for work aren’t you?”
“I don’t work. I am a stay-at-home Mum…”
“Really? What a lovely easy life, eh?”
“No, not really. I have an autistic daughter with anxiety, it can be hard work sometimes actually.”
“Oh one of those autistics, I know about autistics. They don’t have any emotion, do they, but they all have really special talents like maths or doing drawings, don’t they… what’s your one?”
“What’s your one’s special ability, then?”
*leaning in very close* “I’ll let you into a secret, they don’t ALL get special talents… I got a shit one, she can’t do anything.”
Watch woman go purple in shock and horror and inhale so quickly and vastly she would have turned herself inside out in embarrassment and confusion if she could’ve.
What a fucking brilliantly awful moment. I maintained a bright, slightly manic smile and 100% unblinking eye contact as she tried to carry on scanning my items with no idea what else to say.
I was a bit mean I suppose but what an ignorant cow. NO emotion? I wish she was in the minority but I still doubt it… I appreciate my response was pretty ignorant too but FFS. Sometimes I get weary of awarenessing. I contributed NOTHING positive to autism awareness that day but I really rottenly enjoyed her bum clenched awkwardness. Let’s call it my day off.
I miss talking to random people on the bus too. It’s not the same as talking to friends. I seek that never-quite-the-expected edge that you can get when talking to someone who your thigh is pressed up against but who you don’t know at all.
When there’s a weirdo on the bus or the train and everyone else stares at their phones or rummages in their bags, I’m eyes up and smiling waiting to catch their attention, patting the seat next to me…
I had a long chat on a bus once with an old chap, in tears, as his family had pressured him to have his male cat “muted” (I eventually worked that out to be “neutered”) for fighting too much and now “all it does is eat, like a fucking woman”.
I laughed for days.
Now I live for comments. I’m grateful for likes and retweets but mostly I need comments…
*toggles to Twitter and refreshes, toggles to Facebook and refreshes, toggles back to WordPress, sighs, repeats*
I love and cherish and I am very grateful for the people who comment on my blog. A lady called The Rain Poet commented a while back with her objection to a jiggly boobs gif I put on a post. It resulted in a friendly little debate that you can see here. I should think that she has long forgotten about it but it was the highlight of my also-then incarcerated week.
Albeit just a brief exchange, I was consumed by the encounter with “forty-something feminist” as, unlike that more rigorous woman, I realised I don’t have a defining thingummy to put after “forty-something” when describing myself. An excellent addition to my mid life crisis, preoccupied me for several days sat on the bed.
Liberal has lost any relevance it once almost had. Housewife? Gah. Atheist is too one-dimensional and sounds scary. Blogger, please no. Autism mum – still wrestling with that one. Croydon woman? Sounds like I’m on bloody Crimewatch.
Naive? Rarely used as a noun but I think I warrant it. Forty-something naive, with a tendency to giggle when she should be serious. Cursed and blessed.
Forty-something naive weeble. It almost sounds exotic.
When I am not checking over this blog’s few comments, whilst sat quietly on the bed, I like to look at the usage statistics.
Incidentally, ‘I Stand Quietly’ now has over 494,312 views and still rising. I find it unbelievable. I just don’t have the ability to actually process that as a fact that has anything to do with me. But anyways…
My favourite section of the stats is the list of search engine terms that brought people here. Can you believe it, there’s someone else out there other than me who is interested to learn “how much do Innocent pay Badrul”!
My forty-something feminist blog commenter felt that me putting jiggly boob gifs on my blog encourages wankers. I fear we are already way, way beyond that. Holy mother-fucking (literally, it appears, if searched desires are anything to go by) state of the hating and perverse nation way beyond that.
A blog titled Dirty, Naked and Happy?
Yes, I believed I had thought through the potential consequences of that and I did it anyway, giggling, like a forty-something naive weeble would.
Originally I even thought that I would add a page called “Perv Tracker” and regularly update it with the inappropriate search terms that led poor unsuspecting teenage boys to this essentially just-a-mad-fat-momma blog. Like a Wall of Fame in honour of all the lazy lobs that I ‘ruined’…
The first few were funny: “nude games” teeheehee – silly boys!!! “Naked happy friends” – *snorts and chortles* – “naked happy husband”, yes please!!! “Show me fat naked women that are very beautiful”, OK, still somewhat understandable in terms of sexual preference and the Google algorithms that mistakenly brought that person here.
For those of you who have made it this far, I thank you but I feel I must also warn you that this feckless rambling unedited scab-pick of a post concludes with a summary of the remaining freaky-pervert search terms that lead to this blog.
Those who are leaving at this point, I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time. Those who, like me, revel in peeping at the dirty underbelly of society, sit back and strap yourselves in.
I am surprised to see how much “naughty mother…” stuff is searched for – I don’t get that – what is it about a generic “Mum” type that’s titillating everyone? Maybe I’m a sex goddess after all. I know I am intrigued by “naughty fatty indian daddy”.
Also, surprising to see “MY mum…” and saddened to see “my son…” and other inappropriate family combos eeewwwww. Plus, how can anyone feel the need to search for “naked bad parenting”?!?!?!
It’s not all awful… Who could object to “naked somersaulting” or “jumping boobs” or “young men go naked all day and night for 3 months”? Not me.
A yawn to the horny types searching for “fat women doing house work naked” and “naked naughty old wrinkles neighbour”. I suppose the shocking grammar is the least of my worries about the person who wants “nasty things people does do when they naked”.
…and, er, “dirty nude man burp” and the slightly less common (I hope) “naked women farting in swimming pool” and “she wants to fart in my face porn”. (Note: I like how that is phrased not as “I want her to…” but “she wants to…” jeez, really?)
Then comes “dirty sluts play with poo porn” which marks a rapid descent into a surprising amount of coprophilia.
There’s aspirational research topics such as “what is the female burp piss fart record” and the bizarre “why my leg have dirty poem on peacock” and tragic “a rat porn comic”.
I am intrigued by “naked saggy large curtains”(?!?!?!?!)
Actually scrub that, the penny has just dropped that maybe they don’t mean the ones you hang at windows…
My top lip has now been curled back long enough that my teeth have dried out. I am really really really really really naive. I am no longer giggling quite so much. Enough already. I leave you with my mind bogglingly epic unfavourite:
stories of nude women being cooked by cannibals
What. The. Really? Yes.