Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité

Or Freedom, Equality, Brotherhood. Laudible principles on which to base your Republic; founded in the flashing guillotines of the Revolution and defended through the World Wars. But I'm not convinced that a certain piece of legislation recently enforced by French authorities is entirely in accordance with these ideals.



French police began to enforce a ban on face-covering veils, such as the Niqab chosen by some Muslims as an expression of their faith. They say that a symbol of female oppression and the associated implication that the wearer is not worthy to be seen alongside others is not appropriate for a country founded on equality and liberty.

I feel I should pause here to make something clear: I totally disagree with the notion that an omnipresent, benevolent deity would take issue with women - or men, for that matter, who are forbidden from shaving under certain Sikh doctrine - having their faces visible to society at large. I struggle with the idea that a supreme overlord concerned with the welfare of his followers would punish non-adherents with fire and brimstone. I recognise also that the niqab is a personal choice among Muslims; some consider it required, others don't. Despite not reading the Koran myself, I am told by Muslim friends that the practice of face-covering is not mentioned anywhere. But what I believe, and what they believe, is not at the centre of my objection to French policy.

I am also entirely against orthodox believers forcing the people they consider to be "their" women to wear something that they do not wish to. My attitude would come down to this: that woman is not your property and you do not get to hide your oppression of her behind a shield of injured complaint that your beliefs are deserving of protection. Your beliefs are important but recognition of their sanctity stops at the point at which they are impacting on the happiness of others. I am in favour of any policy that attempts to end the oppression of a section of society. But I do not think this law fits that description.

This is because the French ban on a veil is not specific. It simply bans veils in public altogether. So if you are a Muslim woman and you choose to wear the niqab, how can a Government based on liberty and equality tell you that it is not permitted? It is a strange definition indeed of being "liberated" when you are having a right taken away from you. If you're not a Muslim woman but rather you would like to wear a veil because you woke up with a massive spot, is that okay? How about if you're allergic to sunlight? What about then? There are "exemptions" to the ban on face-coverings, but all they seem to do is reinforce the idea that this is a specific attack on the niqab.

I'm exaggerating of course; most women would cover a big spot with makeup and a sunlight allergy is a very rare condition indeed. But the point remains: the French policy is not freeing women who wish to wear vest tops and footless tights but are zipped into their burkas by their oppressive fathers and husbands. Such women are no doubt subject to that treatment and worse in their homes where the niqab ban does not apply. All it does is simply remove the right of French residents to wear what they choose. It's counter-productive, because an already sensitive section of society will feel further victimised and belittled. It will not reduce racial or religious tensions but rather foster them.

So here's what it comes down to. The ideals upon which the French Republic is founded cannot be reconciled with a ban on a piece of clothing. I do not agree with the reasons for which Muslim women choose to wear the niqab, but I feel their right to hold those beliefs should be protected by law rather than attacked by it.

We the people

I've been thinking over the last couple of days about the brouhaha (love that word) over the "Ground Zero mosque" plans that have resulted in probably some ridiculous number of reactionary Facebook groups, not to mention outraged blogs and articles. To which, of course, there are then further reacting-to-the-reaction tweets, blogs and Facebook groups. And so on.

When Sarah Palin wrote an incendiary Facebook post (which I note has now been removed) she was accused of festering racial hatred and encouraging discrimination. I also see that she was writing in response to liberal bloggers jumping all over her use of the made-up word "refudiate" in a tweet, which has also subsequently vanished.

I have a few issues with her view that are apart from the accusation of stirring up religious intolerance.

--First, the mosque is not planned for Ground Zero. It's a few blocks up the street. I suppose, to draw a parallel, it'd be like the Catholic Church wishing to open a new parish community building up the road from Omagh town centre. The Catholic Church (for all its myriad faults) is not responsible for the actions of some of its claimed adherents just as the Islamic faith as a whole is not responsible for the violence perpetrated in its name on September 11. Sarah Palin's use of the phrase "Hallowed Ground" is therefore more than a little questionable.

--If you'll forgive an ignorant foreigner's reading of the Constitution, to ban the construction of such a building seems to be a fairly flagrant breach of the first amendment. If the building of such a religious centre would otherwise satisfy the state of New York's planning laws etc, to refuse it solely because it is a mosque is unacceptable religious discrimination.

--While I don't pretend to understand the psychology behind religious extremism, it seems to me that the very act of allowing a religious community centre of this nature to be built in such close proximity to Ground Zero would do more to discourage Islamist extremism, especially of the home-grown variety, than any number of troops stationed abroad.

I was very happy to see Mayor Bloomberg's statement on the subject, when talking about a possible ban: "That's not America". To ban a mosque from Manhattan on the basis that the people who flew the planes on September 11 were Muslim would be a shocking betrayal of the very principles on which the United States was founded.

¡Viva España!

I have been quiet since I travelled to (and returned from) that Denmark, mostly watching the World Cup and working hard. Now, however, the World Cup has concluded and I thought I'd try my hand at a review which will finally demonstrate beyond all possible doubt how little I know about football.

World Cup 2010: End-of-term Report

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Teacher's Pets

Uruguay
When examining the World Cup groups before the tournament began, like most football fans do, I did think Uruguay might have successfully negotiated their group and made it into the knockout stages. I thought they might finish second behind France (see what I mean about my level of football knowledge?) and give Argentina a decent game before bowing out and heading home. But they negotiated a tricky opening game against the French - before their massive and hilarious implosion - and then gave the South Africans a lesson in tournament football and signing off with a routine win against Mexico when both teams were already effectively through. Group winners and a game against South Korea to come. Solid, I thought. Uncompromising and with a bit of talent too. And then they kept winning!

Okay, so Suarez's cheating against Ghana left a bad taste in the mouth and Ghana should have qualified for the semi final. But they gave Holland a good game too and then made Germany really work for third place. All in all, when matched against their pre-tournament expectations, Uruguay had a storming World Cup and even losing their two closing games can't take the gloss off.

Ghana
Speaking of which, Ghana likewise outperformed all but the most optimistic predictions for their trip to South Africa. They got through their group with two penalties and a solid defence - all the more impressive when you consider their custodian entered the tournament as Wigan Athletic's fourth-choice keeper - and then despatched the USA fair and square in their first knockout game. The Uruguay game doesn't need revisiting, but it's fair to say that Ghana deserved at least a fourth-place finish in that tournament and that's a staggering achievement. They did it without Michael Essien too.

Germany
Apparently German journos weren't too optimistic leading into this tournament and even after the Australians made them look far better than they were with a shocking opening game, the claims that Germany might go all the way were still muted. But they scored four goals twice more; against England and Argentina when they exposed those major footballing nations as pretenders on the biggest of stages. They didn't have any superstars, no Messi or Ronaldo, but they were a team of better-than-average players playing for each other and for the flag. Schweinsteiger had an excellent tournament and he was joined in that bracket by Mueller and Ozil. This was a young German team growing into their roles and they will take some stopping at Euro 2012, especially with the elder statesmen of the Spain side probably not going to feature.

Slovakia
Unremarkable against Paraguay and New Zealand, Slovakia made everyone sit up and take note with a mad victory against Italy and then deserved more against Holland in the knockout game. No superstars, no massive egos, just a team from a small-ish country who can be delighted they got out of their group before losing narrowly to the eventual runners-up.

New Zealand
And from the same group, how can you forget New Zealand? The only unbeaten team in South Africa 2010 and Kiwi football fans will never forget going in front against Italy or the last-gasp equaliser against Slovakia. They must have expected to get panned three times and go home having done their best, but no-one got the better of them. Excellent stuff.

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Satisfactory / Room for Improvement

Brazil

Everyone thought that this was the tournament where Brazil had added some steel to their fancy buildup and outrageous flair; the tournament where Brazil prided themselves on exciting attacking play but also were difficult to break down. When Robinho strolled through the Dutch defence in their quarter-final, they must have been confident of a date with the Spanish or Germans in the final. But then...implosion. Marking went to pieces, discipline was lost, and they limped home. Up to that point they had been really quite impressive, but when the chips were down, the heads dropped and for a team as good as this, that has to be a major disappointment.

Spain
Strange, since they won it. But I measure this review against pre-tournament expectations and the European Champions were favourites to bring the trophy home - a satisfactory outcome. To be put in the same group as Ghana, Uruguay et al, they would have had to dazzle South Africa 2010 with their football and win their games by multiple-goal margins...and they didn't. They were limp and lifeless against Switzerland, and while they fully deserved victory against Germany and Holland in their final two games, it was always more "effective" football than it was exciting football. They won their games by a single goal; they were tight at the back; they scored from their set-pieces. Deserved winners of the 2010 World Cup but when measured against their pre-tournament expectation, I'd rate them "Satisfactory".

Holland
Holland won a lot of friends by upsetting Brazil and quietly going about their business during the World Cup, and then promptly lost them all again by spending two hours kicking seven shades out of Spain in the final. It was the worst kind of gameplan and they were staggeringly lucky to have eleven players for as long as they did. The shouts of anger directed at Howard Webb (about the only Englishman to emerge from South Africa with his reputation enhanced) were bitter and unjustified, and seemed all too much like abusing a policeman for giving you a speeding ticket after he's found the severed head in your boot. They had a good tournament and they let themselves down badly when it came to the final, and I for one was disappointed in them for that since I had made up my mind just about at kick-off that I'd like them to win. I changed my mind, for what it's worth.

When it comes to Mr. Webb, he had an excellent tournament and he'll never forget a season where he's handled the Champions' League final and the World Cup final with great aplomb. Holland made it nearly impossible for him: had he applied the laws to the letter, they would have had nine men at half time and he would have been remembered as the referee who ruined the World Cup final. As it was, he attempted to let the game continue as a contest and Spain were incensed - probably with cause - that Holland got away with so much. By the time John Heitinga started the long walk back to the dressing room, he could have been leaving eight colleagues behind instead of ten. Webb had one of the hardest games of his career and he played it in probably the only way he could. As with politics, if you get the same amount of stick from each side, you're probably doing okay.


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See me after class

England
Obviously. They were beaten by a better German side but in all honesty England should never have been in the position where they had to play Germany - to not win a group of that standard was the defining failure of this campaign. Instead of entering the section of the tournament tree where their competition for a semi-final place was Uruguay, South Korea and Ghana, they went in with Mexico, Argentina and Germany and even an England team firing on all cylinders would have struggled with that.

Same old story with England: talked up too much, and then absolutely savaged when it inevitably comes apart. If the press and the fans could learn to temper their expectations of the England team - which has never been more than a good, solid team with a couple of genuinely world-class players - then perhaps the players could play without the crushing weight of expectation and the fear of the criticism they know they'll get for failing.

Objectively, England have always really been a team that could reasonably be expected to reach the quarter-finals of these major tournaments. We've never had a Brazil 70, Holland 74, Argentina 86, France 98 squad that swept all before it. even 1966, if we're totally honest, was probably more the result of playing the tournament in England. And yet! Successive quarter-finals in 06 and 08 were treated as total failure despite England's arguable bad luck in both tournaments. Is it any wonder that players fail to perform when they know that the penalty for losing is always so severe regardless of objective circumstances?

I firmly believe that England will fail to win a major trophy - barring a large slice of good luck - as long as the press continues to report on the national side in its current vein. Ban the press from following England (impossible, but we can dream) and I promise you the team will start challenging for these honours. When the World Cup started, Fabio Capello did not automatically become a bad manager. Players who perform every week at the highest level of domestic and European competition did not suddenly become talentless buffoons. It is the pressure and the fear that causes them to play nervous football and a nervous, hesitant England were ruthlessly exposed by a relaxed, fluid Germany. It was a poor World Cup for England and while the players and coaching staff take their share of the responsibility, the blame is not theirs alone.

Italy
The holders were flat and uninventive and they paid the price for their bland football with a series of pretty shocking results that saw them dumped out. Perhaps an Italian can offer a more eloquent defence through being more familiar with the circumstances similarly to how I presented England above, but without that knowledge I can only say this: the Italians badly underperformed and they, like England, will badly need an injection of young blood and a squad that can learn to play together from the ages of 18-22. Then we may well see the Azzurri make amends in Poland and the Ukraine in two years' time.

France
Just France. Do you need me to continue?


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And there you have it. No doubt you will disagree; no doubt you think I'm an ignorant prat and you wish to see me flayed. But please, if you do, feel free to offer your honest opinions. After all, if we all thought the same, what would we talk about over our pints before going home for Match of the Day?

I think I'm paranoid; too complicated

Here we go again. I remember writing that the periods of my irrational, ridiculous, paranoid, childish insecurity are diminishing and becoming less frequent, and that is still true. But they aren't gone completely and it strikes me that I have entered my latest one tonight. I think that perhaps writing about how I feel will help me, because I will read it back and think "You're being such a dick! Stop it! Cease! Desist!" and then that'll happen. Possibly.

I trust Kat with my life. Implicitly and unconditionally. The part of my mind that remains rational during these insecure periods knows how much she loves me, how dedicated to me she is, how committed she is. Why then, you might (justifiably) say, does the insecurity raise its head in the first place? Believe me, I wish I knew. Then, perhaps, I might be able to fucking do something about it.

At least this time I know what's triggered it. A completely innocent party in all this, a friend of hers who goes by the name of Nikolai. By all accounts he's a lovely bloke, although I've never met him. From what I've heard he's also a gentleman. I don't attach any responsibility to him, let me make that clear.

Early on in our relationship, Nikolai hung out at Kat's apartment and the two of them polished off most of a bottle of whisky and as a result were understandably quite drunk. Nikolai is a good-looking bloke who doesn't really do commitment, and is used to getting his own way with the ladies. That night he expressed an interest in sex. Kat turned him down flat, as you would expect: "That's not going to happen; I'm seeing someone else." He accepted this. He made no further moves or tried his luck again. They shared Kat's bed - she has no spare room - and he brought her breakfast in bed in the morning. He left shortly afterwards. Nothing untoward in any of this. You can see what I mean when I describe him as a gentleman! Even under the affluence of incohol, he instantly accepted it when she said she wasn't interested and that was the end of it. If only all men (and women) had willpower and principles as strong as that. And he's there tonight, right now, and they're having a bottle of wine and watching TV, or listening to music and having a chat, just like friends do.

You're probably beginning to understand by now what I say when I use the adjective "irrational" when I refer to my insecurity. The story has nothing in it to raise any sort of reasonable objection. Sure, some people might object to their other halves sharing a bed with anyone of the opposite sex, no matter what the circumstances, but I am not one of those people. I don't purport to criticise those people or to consider my own opinion superior; their line in the sand is just in a different place to mine. Last Friday night, Kat shared a bed with her best friend, Uffe, who's a ridiculously good-looking Danish feller with whom I think I get on very well. I have no issues with either instance and I say that with utter conviction.

I think this shows that I am making progress. The me of even two years ago would have developed this sort of insecurity but might have actually paid attention to it, letting it sabotage my relationship or friendships with people and letting it actually cause damage. This version of me is determined that that will not happen. It is up to me and me alone to silence this side of my personality.

So, what form does it actually take? Well, mostly, it's the repetitive and insistent voice that wants to know "what if?"

What if Kat gets too drunk and he takes advantage of her? Worse than that, what if she is willingly engaging in all sorts of debauchery as I type these very words? What if she gets sufficiently frustrated of the distance between you that she makes a habit of this to stop herself getting bored? What if she realises, as a result of this, that she doesn't need you at all? At this point, the voice starts to sneer at me. It says, well, I'll tell you what: you'd be alone again. Your world would be a wreck. In all senses except the literal, your life would be over. The thought terrifies me to the extent that my insides seem to actually curl up on themselves. I have tried just not thinking about it, but it's like the elephant in the room. The more I try not to think about it, the more vivid the images my imagination helpfully contributes.

And yet, detached from this, is the normal part of my mind that in these instances just happens to have been shoved to one side. "What the fuck?!" it offers to the debate. "What kind of mind comes up with scenarios like that?! You're being the most ridiculous, pathetic excuse for an adult human being that you possibly could be at this moment. How dare you doubt a girl who has done nothing but improve your life since she entered it? How fucking dare you even imagine that a girl who has done nothing but love you would behave like that?!"

Crucially, I think, I know that it's that part of my mind that I have to listen to. Each time I go through this, the rational voice gets a little bit louder in relation to the paranoid one. I like this trend because it gives me hope that, one day, I won't ever have to listen to that awful, insistent insecurity again.

Relocation, relocation, relocation

I'm in Helsingør at the moment, enjoying a few days away from work and generally just chilling out. I absolutely love this place. It obviously helps that the weather's so gorgeous at the moment, oh, and the love of my life lives here. My opinion, I remember, was slightly less gushing when the windchill brought it down to -20 here in January/February. That said though, the more time I spend in Denmark the more I think that I could happily live here. There are a couple of minor problems with that idea though.

First, I don't speak Danish. I know that the local authorities here offer free Danish lessons to non-Danish citizens who settle in Denmark, and I know that the vast majority of Danish people speak English well enough to understand me. Neither of those things would help with the short-term necessity of finding a job, though. Who, in Denmark, is going to employ someone whose grasp of the native language involves ordering a beer and saying "thank you"? Kat seems to think there are English and Irish pubs in Copenhagen that almost insist on hiring native Brits & Irish to work there, the better to create a more authentic experience, but I'd still feel very uncomfortable if a local Dane, in their own country, walked into a pub and I had to ask them to order their ale in English. That wouldn't be quite right, I don't think.

Second, the assorted credit agreements that I am paying for monthly at home. I'm not sure (say) my car finance company would take too kindly to me closing my bank accounts and leaving the country. So that's at least another 18 months of paying those off, unless of course I win the lottery. I don't play the lottery, so I would file that under "unlikely".

Finally, would I really want to abandon a fairly solid career to start working in bars or coffee shops? Like any job I suppose, there are days where it's just a total pain in the backside but generally I do enjoy what I do. My parents' relief when I got this job and embarked on a Civil Service "career" was marked and if I said to them "yeah, I'm resigning from that and going to pull pints in Denmark", I suspect their reaction would not be one of enthusiasm. Yes, it's my life, but I've put my poor parents through a lot and I am not simply going to ignore their feelings and opinions. When you're sixteen you don't appreciate it, but on the whole parents do know best.

So there you have it. Three fairly hefty obstacles between me and a new life in this wonderful country and I know that for the forseeable future I am rooted to the north of England. However, I feel that the more time I spend here, the more the urge to relocate is going to grow.

Soulmates

I don't believe in soulmates. I don't believe in Fate. I am not an actor simply performing a pre-determined script. There is no such thing as a girl who was "meant" for me, like it's our destiny to end up together. Love is something that develops and strengthens and creeps up on you until suddenly, you realise you'd struggle to live without them.

As usual when it comes to matters of a serious nature, I defer to someone more eloquent than me:

Yeah, yeah
If I didn't have you
If I didn't have you to hold me tight
If I didn't have you
If I didn't have you to lie with at night
When I'm feelin' blue
If I didn't have you to share my sighs
And to kiss me and dry my tears when I cry
Well I really think that I would
Have somebody else.

If I didn't have you, someone else would do.
Your love is one in a million
You couldn't buy it at any price
But of the nine point nine nine hundred thousand other possible loves
Statistically, some of them would be equally nice
Or maybe not as nice, but say, smarter than you
Or dumber but better at sport or...tracing, I'm just saying
I really think that I would probably
Have somebody else

If I didn't have you, someone else would do
If I were a rich man, diddle iddle iddle iddle ee
I guess I would be with a surgeon or a model
Or a relly of the royals or a Kennedy
Or a nymphomaniacal exhibitionist heiress
To a large chain of hotels
If I were a rich man, maybe I would fiddle
Fiddle diddle diddle with the rich man girls

I'm not saying that I'd not love you if I was wealthy or handsome
But realistically, there's lots of fish in the sea
And if I had a different rod I would conceivably land some
Even though I'm fiscally consistently pitiable
And considerably-less-Brad-Pitt-than-Brad pitiful
Am I really so poor and ugly that you think
Only you could possibly love me?
And I really think that I would probably
Have somebody else

If I didn't have you, someone else would do
And look, I'm not undervaluing what we've got when I say
That given the role chaos inevitably plays
And the inherently flawed notion of "Fate"
It's obstruse to deduce that I found my soulmate
At the age of seventeen
It's just mathematically unlikely that at a university in Perth
I happened to stumble on the one girl on Earth
Specifically designed for me

And if I may conjecture a further objection
Love is nothing to do with destined perfection
The connection is strengthened; the affection simply grows over time
Like a flower, or a mushroom, or a guinea pig, or a vine
Or a sponge, or bigotry.
Or a banana.

Love is made more powerful by the ongoing drama of shared experience
And the synergy of a kinda symbiotic empathy
Or..something

So I trust it goes without saying that I would feel really very sad
If tomorrow you were to fall off something high, or catch something bad
But I'm just saying, I don't think you're special!
I mean..I think you're special, but
You fall within a Bell curve
I mean I'm just saying
I really think that I would probably
Have somebody else

I think you are unique and beautiful
You make me happy just by being around
But objectively you would have to agree
That baby when I found you
Options were relatively thin on the ground
You're lovely, but there must be girls as lovely as you
And maybe more open to spanking
Or....fucking table tennis, I'm just
I really think that I would probably
Have somebody else

I mean, I reckon it's pretty likely that if, for example
My first girlfriend Jackie hadn't dumped me
After I kissed Winston's ex girlfriend Nia at Steph's party
Back in 1993
Enough variables would probably have been altered by the absence of that event
To have meant the advent of a tangential narrative in which we don't meet
Which is to say there exists a theoretical hypothetical parallel life
Where what is is not as it is
And I am not your husband, and you are not my wife

And I am a stuntman, living in LA
Married to a small blonde Portuguese skier
Who when she's not training, does abstract painting
Practises yoga and brews her own beer
And really likes making home movies
And suffers neck-down alopecia

But with all my heart and all my mind I know one thing is true
I have just one life and just one love and my love, that love is you
And if it wasn't for you, darling you
I really think that I would probably
Have somebody else
If I didn't have you someone else would surely do

You get the idea, I think. I'm not saying that I could happily just have someone else if my current relationship came to a shuddering end. As it happens, I just can't imagine a way in which I could remain a functioning member of society if that happened. The point here is that my life was not an already-written narrative in which I was inevitably going to end up marrying Kat. If we hadn't met; if I hadn't searched for whatever hashtag it was that led me to her Twitter page back in September, and then clicked the follow button; if she had dismissed my presence following her as an irrelevance and not replied; if either one of us hadn't bothered with Twitter in the first place, then our lives would not have been empty wastelands. We'd have found other people, and been happy enough and continued to go about our day-to-day lives. Soulmates. Do. Not. Exist.

But of all the possible tangential narratives my life could've taken, I'm pretty happy with this one.

Personal Development

"I didn't have an easy childhood" is a cliché and probably unjustified in the vast majority of times it's used. Compared to many people, I had the easiest of childhoods. A fairly spoilt only child in a family that has never been well off, but has equally never really struggled for anything. At least one holiday a year and sometimes more; school trips; a private education. Not exactly a broken home, is it, despite divorced parents.

However, the private education side of things wasn't as smooth as it could have been. I blame no-one for this except myself. When I was between the ages of maybe thirteen and seventeen, I was an obnoxious little shit. Arrogant, superior (if that isn't tautology), all too eager to believe the hype about my own intelligence that my well-meaning family and teachers repeatedly gave me. The fault is my own.

However, the upshot was that I didn't particularly develop social skills until I joined sixth form and was suddenly exposed to "girls" as a species (my school was single-sex). As a result of my behaviour up until that point, I didn't really have proper friends either. The combination of these two handicaps resulted in a deep-seated insecurity that has been with me ever since.

Not a great lot about this insecurity is rational. I've learned to accept that certain people seem to actively want to spend time with me and take part in conversations with me. The insecurity comes in my continued bafflement as to why they want to do so. I spent so many years being ostracised by my peers that I still genuinely don't really "get it" when people want my company. I always suspect that they have some sort of ulterior motive. In high school it was usually that they wanted me to do their homework for them. Now? Well, who knows what I think they want? Therein lies the irrationality.

When I first entered into my current relationship the insecurity was there to rear its head as per usual. If I were to describe or design my perfect "type" of girl, Kat would tick more boxes than anyone I've ever met. Yes, she smokes. Yes, she's a vegetarian. She's ridiculously competitive to the extent that sometimes I think it might be best just to not enter into any sort of game or competition with her. If I win, there's a tantrum. If I lose, there's gloating. She's not perfect. But she is as close to it (for me) that I've ever experienced. So the insecurity was extrapolated to match. How, my subconscious reasons, can such a wonderful girl as her possibly be interested in someone like me? And more to the point, when is she going to realise this and abandon you? According to this little voice, it is only a matter of time.

This has in the past led to self-sabotage. My subconscious is so convinced that I will end up alone again that it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy; I end up behaving in such a way that a break-up becomes inevitable. My fear of this behaviour repeating itself with Kat is not irrational. I'm terrified of fucking it up. But as scared of that as I am, I'm equally determined not to.

This is all leading up to a main point. Over the last few months I've noticed a distinct dimming and quieting of that insistent voice of insecurity. I don't crave constant reassurance from her about her love for me and her commitment to "us" (and I suspect that this is as much a blessing for her as it is for me; my needy side is not pleasant). Obviously I miss her when we're apart and that feeling only gets stronger, but if we don't chat on Skype or on the phone for a day or two, it's no big deal. I don't instantly suspect that this means she's going off me, as I might have before. I am relatively relaxed about it, I know she cares about me and she's thinking about me.

Big deal, you might say. Of course she is. Anyone who's ever met her can see how much she loves you. Well, yes. But this is a big deal for me. It shows me that with the right support, this monkey on my back need not be a permanent fixture. I might even defeat it one day.

It's a work in progress. I still have my days when every possible sentence and action on her part gets interpreted as an omen that she's about to leave me (irrational much?!) but they're becoming more and more infrequent. I'm beginning to grow up. She's made me a hugely better person since coming into my life and I hope that she appreciates, eventually, just how grateful I will always be for that.