Wimmin @ the movies

the first tuesday of every month i go with a bunch of wonderful 'wimmins' to dinner and the movies. my invite to join this group took a while; its a select group. Their partners, all men, do their own movie night every second tuesday and Si has been going along to these nights for years. They're his bunch of blokes. So when i came along, i posed quite a dilemma to the group. Some wanted to invite me straight away but others felt confronted by my presence; its a pretty tight knit group who have been friends for twenty something years. I think they wanted to see just how long this relationship would last at the beginning. Possibly some felt like they were being disloyal by inviting me in so readily. I knew i was being excluded and many a hurt and angry tear had been shed on my part.

Its hard for everyone dealing with those who have been widowed when they repartner, especially if the time passed has not been long; its hard for the new partner and hard on the friends. There's no guide book either to help you all out. You just have to bumble along and do the bst you can. In coming along i would be taking the seat occupied for years by their dear friend who is no longer present. after 2 years i was invited along. I'd felt so deliberately left out, not accepted for being myself, not given a chance. My initial response was the revert to the child, to say 'no thanks, you took too long' but i figured that was not the most mature approach. So i said i'd love to and went along with my heart in my throat to that first movie night knowing we all had crossed a bridge, knowing that if it wasnt for the loss of their friend i wouldnt be sitting there. It was a hard night.

That was a year ago. its gotten easier, much easier. i have really grown to love these women. They're warm and funny and inspite of a generation gap,we actually have a whole heap in common. So we tracked of to see Brideshead Revisited last night and for two hours i sat and immersed myself in upper class English neurosis and alcoholism and remembered my very own decadent, delicious and very romantic Evelyn Waugh week in St Andrews, Scotland with a handome and mannered and very experienced lordy-schmordy- something-or-other and identified with the seduction of irresponsible priviledge.