clinging and pathetic?

Miranda’s husband abandoned her with a newborn baby when she was 23, telling her she was clinging and pathetic even though he knew when he married her that she had two issues – scarred lungs which made breathing difficult, and a longstanding fear of abandonment.

"In some respects my childhood fear of abandonment has been a self fulfilling prophecy," sighs Miranda. "My husband left with me with a newborn baby when I was 23, he said I was too dependent on him, too clinging and pathetic, and this hurt me terribly because up until then he had been very kind to me.”

“Actually, I think he was the pathetic one – someone who couldn’t cope with the responsibility of being a parent – and I managed to cope very well on my own with my little girl,” explains Miranda, “and here I am twenty years later bracing myself for my daughter's departure from my life."

"She, of course, won't be abandoning me in the manner my mother and husband did," says Miranda, "but it will be a separation all the same - far more for me than for her because her life has been charmed - except of course for her father abandoning her at birth."

"At 43 I feel I should have the intelligence to understand that what happened to me at the age of three – when my mother abandoned me – and at the age of 23 when my husband abandoned me – is not going to happen to me now," says Miranda, "but try telling that to my inner child!"

“I tell myself over and over again that I am going to be alright on my own after my daughter leaves home,” says Miranda. “It’s quite possible that being totally on my own is just the test I need to show me that I am much, much stronger than I ever believed I was – that I am not the clinging and pathetic woman that my ex husband said I was.”

Read more about Miranda:

childhood lung disease

babies do remember!

amorous teachers and suspicious husbands

Laine is 25 and a stay at home mom who is going to night school to complete her high school education and all was going fairly well until she told her husband about the amorous teacher.

"I don't expect to be doing anything with my qualification for a while," confesses Laine, "I just want the satisfaction of knowing that I completed high school - and I want to set a good example for my kids, too."

"I look after the kids all day and my husband takes care of them at night when I go to school - it works out great for me, but my husband does grumble a bit."

"I had expected my fellow students at night school to be as old or older than myself," says Laine, "so it was a surprise to find that most of them had left school the year before and were repeating at night school rather than going back to school for another year."

"They hadn't made the grade to get into college or university so they were coming back to get better marks."

"In this sort of competitive environment I didn't think I'd do very well," confesses Laine, "but I surprised myself by catching up with the younger students very fast and getting pretty good marks."

"The only thorn in my return to school experience," sighs Laine, "is one of the male teachers at night school who is really embarrassing me with his amorous attentions."

"He lies in wait for me to arrive and comes to my car and walks me into the building - chatting and making suggestive comments."

"I try to ignore him but its very hard when he gives a lesson and addresses all his comments to me - working comments about love and beautiful women into whatever he is talking about."

"I don't know what the other students make of what is going on between him and me but I've certainly never encouraged him and keep my eyes down and take notes without giving him the reaction he wants."

"He's quite attractive but judging from his behavior I think he's probably been banned from teaching in the regular schools."

"I made the mistake of telling my husband about the guy and now he's getting suspicious about me."

"How can I convince my husband that I'm going to night school to study not to have an affair with a hack teacher? And how can I stop that guy pestering me and spoiling my return to school?"

"Mucking around with boys and wanting a good time caused me to drop out of high school in the first place," explains Laine, "and it's ironic I suppose that this time around it's a teacher who's trying to distract me!"

separating from debt

Bonnie is 26, a factory worker and she's also newly separated. Her brief marriage was a mistake - a costly one - but she's now enjoying her newly reclaimed freedom by sharing an apartment with two female co-workers and watching her pennies.

"My ex-husband got me into debt - he was a gambler," explains Bonnie, "and my focus from now on is getting my financial affairs in order and making sure that I never lose my personal integrity again."

"When the factory management asked us to take a pay cut," says Bonnie, "I was disappointed to lose money and thought I was being screwed all over again but after considering my options I went along willingly with the company’s request."

"I work for monetary reward just like everyone else," explains Bonnie, "but some of my girlfriends work primarily for the most money they can get and preferred to quit rather than accept a pay cut."

In today's globalized, off-shoring economic climate, Bonnie believes that people are lucky if they still have a job, so quitting a job that requires you to make a salary sacrifice is a bit risky. She feels that the chances of finding a similar job with a salary commensurate with what she wants is not high.

"I feel my girlfriends made a mistake," says Bonnie, "because in the long run they may be forced to accept a position with a much lower pay than the one they rejected."

Bonnie admits that it is not fair that companies are laying off staff or requiring salary sacrifices in order to meet their profit margins, but in an employer's market she accepts that we have very little say in the matter.

"There are far too many people in the world looking for work," says Bonnie, "and there are simply not enough jobs available to employ everybody. If you want to survive and lead an independent life - like I do - you've got to be realistic about these things."

"The jobs my girlfriends are quitting will be quickly filled," says Bonnie, "and probably by immigrant workers willing to work for less than the pay cut rate."

The laws of supply and demand operate perfectly these days to ensure that those who are willing to work for less monetary reward are the ones who are winning the jobs.

Bonnie believes that going on strike will not work, either. If your job is one that can be outsourced or given to an immigrant worker, it will be.

Money is not exactly Bonnie’s key motivating factor in turning up at work each day. Being recently separated she needs the distraction that work gives her. It takes her mind off her troubles. And she actually enjoys the working experience.

"I'm well aware that a lot of people only work for money and cannot get enough of it - not because they need it but because it determines their 'worth' as a human being, " says Bonnie. "My ex-husband was like that."

"I don't judge my value as a human being by the amount of money I have or earn," says Bonnie. "I'll never appear on lists of the world's richest nor do I aspire to be on such lists, and as such I'm amenable to a pay cut as long as the cut doesn't deprive me of the ability to pay my bills - and my ex-husband's debts."

"It's this amenability, and these responsibilities, that keep me in a job," says Bonnie. "I guess you can call me a job survivor."

There are many people who work simply to pay the bills - and have a life outside of work - and just as many who work for the love of working, like Bonnie, and really do not care how much they earn just as long as what they get pays the bills.

Faced with the prospect of salary cuts to keep her job, Bonnie accepted the realities of the current economy. She does not love her job so much that she will put in extra hours without pay to help the company boost its profit margin. She would, however, go that extra mile if the company were losing money.

She accepts that if the company goes under, so does she.

It is in Bonnie’s best interests to keep the company afloat during hard times because when the good times return - and they will - the company may reward her loyalty, but there is no guarantee, of course, that this will happen.

"To put in extra hours without pay in expectation of a reward," says Bonnie, "is not a good idea."

Bonnie worries about her girlfriends because they could be out of work for quite a while and the prospect is very real that they will be required to accept a much lower salary than the one they previously took home.

"I am already paying off my ex-husbands bills," sighs Bonnie, "and I don't want to be stuck with the total rent bill, too, if my girlfriends can't pay."

Bonnie also worries about her own job. Even though she accepted a pay cut, her job may not last.

If Bonnie does end up losing her job then she intends to set a minimum figure at which she can survive, and then she’ll go looking for jobs that are personally satisfying to her.

Earning big money often involves stress, deadlines and time constraints, and Bonnie doesn’t want that.

"There are many factors besides money that can make a job enjoyable," says Bonnie, "and if I set my wages low then I have the perfect opportunity to find a type of job that rewards me in other areas."

"After the divorce," confides Bonnie, "I want to enjoy an truly independent life and do something new."

Time is important to her, so she could try a part-time job. She likes learning new skills so she could try a type of job she has never tried before. There are not many staff benefits where she works now, so she could target a place with a social club and great facilities.

Profit sharing? Bonnie accepts that the idea of companies offering stock options as an employment bonus is a good one, but not at the expense of a basic wage.

"Stocks and shares are for gamblers like my ex," sighs Bonnie, "I'm just not interested in taking risks with money."

"It’s interesting," says Bonnie, "that people who work primarily for job satisfaction reap the benefits of that choice whatever state the economy is in. Those who work for financial consideration, and nothing else, are big losers in economic downturns."

Making a valuable contribution to a company, and being rewarded by praise, is far more satisfying to Bonnie than a fistful of dollars.

"Of course," laughs Bonnie, "if you can achieve job satisfaction as well as a six-figure salary then all power to you! For most of us, though, one thing is usually gained at the expense of another and six-figure salaries often lead to health problems, family and relationship problems and spiritual death."

In accepting a pay cut to retain her job, Bonnie can no longer throw away money on little luxuries, but it is a far better proposition than not having a job. And she feels that her girlfriends are going to discover this fact very soon. If they are lucky and get a better paid job, then they may have to put up with a lot of job-related problems that they did not experience at the old place.

"There are some things that money cannot buy," says Bonnie, "and a pleasant job - and a good husband - are two that I've discovered. What with the sexually transmitted debt I got from my ex husband, I consider myself very lucky to have a pleasant job."

"I won't be trying to have it all again," laughs Bonnie. "From now on it's a single independent life for me."

cancer, separation then love

Venus’ marriage was not particularly strong, so she was hurt but not surprised when her husband walked out on her when she was diagnosed with breast cancer; and what might have been a terrible separation period for her actually turned out to be the most wonderful period in her life due to meeting a man going through similar cancer treatment.

"I was having marital troubles long before I was diagnosed with cancer," explains Venus, "and I felt that my husband would love me less when I had to have a mastectomy."

"Actually," laughs Venus, "I was absolutely right. He not only loved me less but walked out on me when I needed him most."

"I can laugh now because my life has taken a turn for the better," explains Venus, "but at the time I was stunned that someone who had vowed to love me in sickness and in health would desert me in my hour of need."

"My doctor told me that sometimes husbands do desert wives when they hear the big C word," says Venus, "but he also reassured me that I would be better off without such a man in my life at this time."

"My doctor was absolutely right," says Venus, "because dealing with cancer took all my energy and focus, and it was another man, a new lover, who provided me with all of the support and love I needed.”

Read more about Venus:

swim in a sea of love

I am not a pair of breasts

why did I ever change my name to his?

After a marriage to a womanizer that lasted barely two years Cleo, 32, is in the process of reclaiming her maiden name - a task that is not easy, but acts as a salient reminder for her of the selfless madness that overtakes women when they fall in love, get married and give up their independence.

"I never even liked Jack's surname," laughs Cleo, "but I was so in love with the guy that I was willing to give up my own name and identity in order to be his wife."

"It just didn't occur to me that Jack would continue seeing other women after we married - and that eventually I'd be so humiliated that I'd fall out of love with him and sue for divorce," sighs Cleo. "Divorce happens to other people, doesn't it?"

"Thankfully I was smart enough to put off having children until we had established ourselves better," explains Cleo, "but obviously I wasn't smart enough to keep my name."

"I changed everything - passport, banking accounts, library cards, sporting clubs, etc - from my maiden name to my married name," laughs Cleo. "What a klutz I was!"

"It isn't just the expense and inconvenience of having to change everything back to my name," explains Cleo. "It's also the humiliation of the exercise that gets to me."

"I have to provide evidence of my marriage and separation to all of these institutions - along with my birth certificate."

"Imagine the looks I get from the counter staff," laughs Cleo. "It's humiliating and yet that's just the sort of treatment I deserve for being so stupid as to change my name to Jack's."

"I know that these days women are not required by law to change their names when they get married - I guess the exercise I'm going through has been done a million times before and institutions are sick of it," explains Cleo, "but when you're as stupidly in love as I was you just don't think right."

"I guess it's only when society actually forbids women from changing their name when they hook up with some guy that this sort of ridiculous exercise will end."

"Until then, otherwise smart women like me will continue to give up their name and identity during the period of love madness that precedes marriage."

"Let's face it," laughs Cleo, "in all other periods of temporary insanity we go through in our lives society has set up safeguards to stop us doing silly things - and yet when it comes to love and marriage society just sits back and lets women make fools of themselves."

"Imagine if the shoe were on the other foot," says Cleo. "Do you think men - in love or otherwise - would be silly enough to change their names and identities upon marriage? I think not!"

"Men are very proud of their names - even Jack was proud of his silly surname - and there's no way he would have given it up for me or any woman."

"The supreme sacrifice men make upon marriage is to give up their freedom - and Jack couldn't even hack that," sighs Cleo. "But women are always under a subtle influence to make two supreme sacrifices - give up their freedom and their names!"

"I don't know how the custom ever came about," sighs Cleo. "It must have been just another one of the male plots to subjugate women - but funny thing, Jack thought he was bestowing an honor upon me by giving me his name. And guess what, I fell for it!"

"It's great to be me again - with my old familiar name," says Cleo, "but I worry about the future."

"I'd like to have children one day, but if that means marrying a guy and giving my children his name I am not too happy about that."

"After all," muses Cleo, "I'm the one who'd be carrying them for nine months, going through the agonies of childbirth, doing the breastfeeding and diaper changing - not to mention taking time off work and losing out financially in order to raise them - so why shouldn't the children carry my name?"

"It's all too hard so I should really decide never to go there and be satisfied with my independence instead."

bad therapy for marital ending

When Rosa's marriage of eighteen years ended she became so upset and out of control that she feared she was losing her mind and, quite naturally, she sought help from her medical practitioner who referred her to a therapist.

"I was very reluctant to see a therapist," explains Rosa. "I didn't want to tell a stranger, even a doctor, the sensitive details of my inner life. I just expected my doctor to give me some pills to calm me down but he insisted I needed professional help. Trusting he had my best interests at heart, I acquiesced to his medical judgment."

"The lady he sent me to see seemed to be very nice," says Rosa, "and as I had gone this far to seek help in getting my life together, I decided to continue seeing her."

"She put me through a series of exercises where I had to keep a journal of everyone I had dealings with and everything I did," says Rosa, "and in doing these exercises I surprised myself in realizing just how crazy my life was. I was dating four guys at the time!"

"She asked about my childhood and marriage and despite my telling her that I had a happy childhood, and seventeen years of happiness in my marriage before my husband went crazy and left me, she maintained that I was kidding myself."

"Hello? She seemed adamant about making me believe that my life up to now had been a lie," says Rosa, "and this just didn't sit well with me because I knew that I had been loved and wanted by my parents and ex husband."

"From the little I knew about therapists they are supposed to be supportive and instrumental in building up self-esteem," says Rosa, "but this lady seemed to be determined to shred me to pieces."

"I started to get suspicious when she talked about another client of hers - a man who had apparently fallen in love with her and was annoying her by calling her at home."

"She suggested that he would make a good friend for me," explains Rosa, "and she kept on asking me to meet with her at a bar where she would arrange to introduce him to me."

"I refused the introduction because frankly I had far too many guys in my life already and I certainly didn't want to get mixed up with someone in therapy - even though I was," explains Rosa. "If anything, I felt I needed to strip people from my life and mix only with reliable and happy people capable of helping me over this period in my life."

"I thought it was very odd and possibly unethical for a therapist to be acting as a matchmaker," adds Rosa. "I wanted to get my life back together so that I could be a good mom for my kids and do well at work, but all this woman was doing was upsetting me more than I was already."

"I may have been out of control and totally scattered when I first saw her," says Rosa, "but after a few weeks of her so-called therapy I was climbing the walls!"

"I guess my displeasure didn't go unnoticed because at the next therapy session I was surprised when the therapist didn't invite me into her office," says Rosa.

"Instead, she sat in the waiting room with me -- actually she sat way across the room from me, rather than next to me -- and proceeded to ask me all the usual questions about what I had been doing since she last saw me."

"I felt terribly uncomfortable and terminated the session early," says Rosa. "I paid her for the hour but decided after that session not to see her again."

"I felt she was playing mind games with me," explains Rosa, "and while that is probably the sort of thing therapists do for a living I didn't feel she was doing it in my best interests."

"Maybe it was all her round about way of getting me to assert myself and face the fact that I deserve better in life than what I had been dished up," says Rosa, "but it all left a bitter taste in my mouth."

"Rather than coming away from a few months of therapy feeling good about myself," explains Rosa, "I ended up feeling absolutely worthless."

"I thought: If a therapist I was paying to help me ended up treating me like dirt, then what hope did I have to get my life together?"

"I spend the rest of the year reading a lot of self-help therapy books and they turned my life around," says Rosa. "Actually, the books helped but it was my own inner guidance that steered me on the right track."

"The therapist actually called me a few times wondering why I hadn't make another appointment," laughs Rosa, "and I told her quite truthfully that I didn't feel the sessions had helped me."

"She told me that I needed to complete the sessions in order to get benefit from them," says Rosa, "but I wasn't going to buy into that nonsense."

"As far as I was concerned she had betrayed my trust and twisted my vulnerable situation to her advantage."

"The self-help books were telling me that I was a beautiful person and deserved a beautiful man and a good life," explains Rosa, "and this was what I needed to hear because it matched what my inner guidance was telling me all along. How silly that I needed someone else to tell me what I knew already!"

"Everything that the therapist had told me was designed to make me feel bad about myself," says Rosa, "and if I had continued with her sessions I would have probably ended up penniless and totally dependent upon her for any sort of worth."

"I suppose therapists have a vested interest in keeping their clients feeling bad about themselves," sighs Rosa, "but I didn't go there feeling bad about myself. I went there feeling bad about the lousy people in my life - and she became just one more lousy person in my life that I needed to get rid of!"

"My childhood had been happy, and my marriage had lasted seventeen happy years before my husband went through the mid-life crisis and went off the rails."

"By robbing me of those memories of happiness -- trying to get me to believe that it was all a lie --that therapist was acting, in my opinion, in an unethical manner."

"I thought about reporting her to the professional body, to safeguard some other poor soul from falling into her clutches" says Rosa, "but I decided against it."

"Let's face it," laughs Rosa, "I was a client, a woman with emotional problems, and who do you think would be more believable - the crazy therapist or me?"

"If problems can be scaled," says Rosa, "then that therapist had far more problems than I had. People in positions of power who use and abuse vulnerable women are sick."

"I'm back on track now and feeling good about myself," confides Rosa. "and the next time I feel ill or upset about anything I'll be turning to self-help books rather than doctors!"

(Rosa's story first appeared as the therapist and is reprinted with permission.)

the butt of cruel jokes

Up until her children left home three years ago, June endured eleven post-divorce years of abject misery because of constant interference from an abusive ex who manipulated her through the children, regularly defaulting on access visits and child maintenance and poisoning the children's minds against her and the few men she had dated.

"Becoming an empty nester ended all that misery for me," says June, "but irreparable damage had been done. My life is ruined."

June explains that her miseries started when she was about 40 and first felt affronted by her husband's cruel ageist and sexist jokes. Cruel jokes about older women are popular among most men, but women generally never take much notice of these jokes until they reach an age at which they suddenly realize that the jokes are directed at them.

Her husband thought it was very funny to humiliate her by telling such jokes in company, and he paid for this and his other follies with divorce. However, June, now 56, did not get away easily. She paid for her assertiveness in divorcing her husband fourteen years ago by becoming the butt of the cruelest joke imaginable.

During the prime of her life, from 42 to 53, June lived on the edge and often considered suicide as a way out of her misery. She couldn't see an end to the vendetta her ex was conducting against her. She felt that he would carry on until the men in white or the undertakers carried him, or her, away.

The misery she suffered at the hands of a nasty and vindictive ex totally overshadowed her 40s and early 50s. She looks more like 76 than 56. Her hair is white, her eyes are dull, her complexion is ashen and she has that jittery mannerism that is more common in elderly women than a fifties woman.

It's easy to say that the option is always there for women in June's former situation to pack up, change their name, leave the country or do whatever they have to do in order to get a vindictive ex off their backs, but as June explained this was not an option for her.

"It would have meant sacrificing the children," says June. "My ex had visitation rights and the only way I could have escaped from him was to give him the children. I couldn't do that because he didn't want the children. He was just using them to ruin my life. And he succeeded not only in ruining my life, but the children's, too. They've turned out to be as screwed up as he is."

Women who gain custody of children after a marital split rarely gain respite from the children's father, and this constant harassment not only deprives these women from enjoying a normal relationship with a man but also a normal relationship with their children. June is now resigned to never seeing her children again.

"They are ashamed of me," explains June. "One of them calls me an 'old bag' and other pejorative names that their father called me."

When children are constantly subjected to hearing their father deride their mother, it's a rare child who can see the injustice of the situation and want to put it right.

June says that all her suffering was wasted.

"I might as well have put the kids into care and fled, cutting all ties with them as well as their father," sighs June. "It will silly of me to expect the children to appreciate that I remained their mom. I should have realized that their father would have more sway over them than I would"

If her children are more concerned about what she looks like than what's in her heart, then that's due to their father's indoctrination and there's nothing much she can do about it. And yet, it is not just her ex-husband who poisoned her children's minds against June. The youth culture, and general lack of respect for older women, is to blame, too.

June's ex-husband very clearly succeeded in increasing his power by decreasing hers. What he did to her wasn't illegal, and because it is sanctioned by a male dominated society it wasn't considered to be immoral either.

"To everyone else he was an aggrieved dad," explains June. "I initiated the divorce and split the family. Therefore, I was considered to be the bad person and in punishing me he was seen as giving me what I deserved. Nobody cared that the kids were getting screwed up in the process."

"He was driving me mad, and screwing up the kids," explains June, "but everyone else saw him as a good guy. Nobody cared about the reason why I left him. Nobody cared that he was abusing me. He managed to convince everyone that I had left him and broken his poor little heart for no good reason whatsoever. "

As long as these guys have a mantle of approval from society, they can carry on forever. And bitter and twisted ex-husbands and ex-lovers often do.

When asked why, at the age of 56 and after three years of freedom from the kids, she has not picked herself up and started a new life - one far away from her ex, her children and all the bad memories - June shrugs and says that she just doesn't have any energy left.

"As long as I they leave me alone I feel safe," says June. "The hell is over and I just want to enjoy peace and quiet now."

When women use the word 'safe' it usually indicates that they are otherwise living in fear, and this is exactly how June is living despite the fact that the children - the only 'hold' her ex had over her - are no longer in the equation.

June said that she could not have lived with herself had she given up her children and fled fourteen years ago, and yet by doing what she considered to be the ethical and natural thing for a mother to do she exposed herself to further abuse.

the maltese postman

Gillian is 42, but looks 22, and is childless and newly separated from her husband. She found the tranquility she needed to get herself together, put the past behind her and make plans for the future by taking a trip to Malta.

"The tiny island of Malta basks in the warmth in the Mediterranean Sea and once played a strategic part in the various military operations of the last century - particularly for Great Britain," says Gillian, "and it has since become a delightful tourist resort for Britons involved in more personal operations like mine."

"I desperately needed a diversion from all the thoughts that I just couldn’t still in my mind - thoughts of my estranged husband, Joe, with his new woman; thoughts of my lovely new home that was now up for sale; thoughts of all the pitying faces at work and at the club when knowledge of my marriage break-up became known; and thoughts of my parents who took me back home to live with them and, as expected, couldn’t wait to remind me that they had warned me not to marry Joe."

"I highly recommend that newly separated women take a break - anywhere - in order to muster strength for what lies ahead," says Gillian, "and Malta is ideal because just about everybody there speaks English, if not as their primary language then as a very close second."

"I didn't want the hassle of using my schoolgirl French or German," says Gillian. "I just wanted to get away, and far enough away to be foreign. Know what I mean?"

"Some cynics would say that once you've seen one Mediterranean island you've seen the lot," says Gillian, "and I tend to agree in part but what was most memorable about being in Malta was not the falcons -- I doubt that there are any on the island -- but the people. In particular, the Maltese Postman."

It was a warm late October afternoon and Gillian visited a small post-office on the outskirts of the capital city, Valetta, to get some stamps. Behind the counter was George.

Delighted to meet an off-season tourist, and bored with his work, George insisted on closing the post-office and showing her around his island.

Gillian thinks that George had done this sort of thing lots of times before, but having no fear whatsoever that his intentions were anything other than honorable she felt quite safe being shown around the island by him.

"He was old enough to be my father - not that an age difference deters older men, or younger women if it comes to that - but there was something about him that assured me that his first love was Malta and he wanted to share that love with anybody who was interested. And I was."

"George was a mine of information about the history of the island and its significance during both world wars," says Gillian. "Apparently huge fleets had anchored in Valetta Bay and George remembered the island being full of servicemen on shore leave when he was a boy."

Had Gillian taken a notebook with her she would now have a unique story of one man's life on Malta during an exciting time in its history, but alas all she has are shreds of information gleaned from the hours that she and the Maltese Postman had spent together.

After a delightful few hours zooming her around the island, George delivered Gillian back to her hotel, safe and sound, just like a good postman delivers a letter.

She cannot imagine very many postmen in any part of the world having the authority to shut up shop in order to show a tourist around, so Gillian felt honored by the experience and hopes that nobody had wanted his postal services while he was AWOL.

Maybe it could only have happened in Malta?

Gillian’s story about George lacks the sexual liaison that so many separated women feel compelled to indulge in after a marriage fails - similar to that portrayed in the Shirley Valentine film - yet it shows how a simple encounter with a nice man can diffuse a lot of emotional tension.

"There are nice men out there," says Gillian, "and I’m not going to allow a failed marriage spoil the rest of my life. I am going to love again!"

Yet it wasn’t just Gillian’s experience with George that changed her attitude.

"I experienced a spiritual rebirth during my stay on the island of Malta," explains Gillian. "There was something about the island that made it so easy for me to put everything into perspective."

aromatic memories

Nigella's divorce is coming up soon, and with a year of separation behind her she confesses that her survival during this period was due entirely to a very special man.

"While other people remember loved ones by photographs, gifts or songs," says Nigella, "I remember them by associated aromas."

"Fresh baked bread reminds me of my deceased grandmother, and the perfume of Anais Anais reminds me of Billy -- a very special man I met shortly after my husband had walked out on me and the kids for his secretary."

"I was an emotional mess and a girlfriend had nagged me into joining a ‘parents without partners’ group and it was the best thing I ever did because even if I had never met Billy at the group it was good for me and the kids to get out and about."

"The first of the group's activities I participated in was a picnic where there were more kids than adults," laughs Nigella. "The kids had a great time and I immediately felt relaxed with the other parents because they were just like me - sad and lonely."

"Billy came to the third function I attended - a small party at one of the parent's houses where the kids had a room to themselves."

"He wasn't a parent himself," laughs Nigella, 'he was just a single man that the hostess had dragged along for the occasion."

“I am so glad she did!”

"Our first outing alone with Billy was just before Xmas and on our way home from the movies Billy stopped at the shops and bought us all some presents. He had even paid for them to be especially wrapped!"

"My present was an expensive bottle of Anais Anais perfume," sighs Nigella, "and its perfume filled the car as soon as I had opened the bottle."

"He had brought a huge ray of sunshine into our lives - and it remained long after he left."

"I still carry that bottle of Anais Anais perfume in my handbag," smiles Nigella, "and every time I open it I remember Billy and the joy he brought into our lives."

Read more about Nigella's story:

perfume reminder of special friend

flash in the pan guys

the beat goes on

Joan, 35, married a musician old enough to be her father. She had what she thought was an amicable separation with him but by staying in the same marital apartment block with a male neighbor with whom her husband remains friendly her amicability was stretched to the limit.

"My husband, Ken, is a huge Beatles fan and believes, like I do, that war is wrong and that people should love one another," says Joan. "The Beatles said it all in their classic song, All You Need is Love, but the type of love the Beatles sang about is not exactly the type you'd apply to everyone."

"I was incredibly naive and idealistic when I met Ken and he seduced me into having sex with him and I hated it," sighs Joan. "Nevertheless, I carried my loving idealism to extremes by marrying a man for whom I merely felt a sort of cosmic brotherly or neighborly love."

"It took me a long time to realize that some people are totally unlovable in any sense of the word," laughs Joan. "and while it was never in my being to hate Ken, the experience of being trapped in a miserable marriage with a drunkard and pot-head soon cured me of idealism."

"Because neither of us wanted to hurt our son, we agreed to separate on amicable terms," says Joan, "but the big mistake I made was to stay in the same apartment with a neighbor who remained friendly with Ken. It was a cheap apartment and far too convenient for work and shopping for me to move, but had I known what my ex was up to I would have been out of there like a shot."

"The neighbor Ken remained in contact with was an older man, a Vietnam vet, who lived with his mother and had mental problems," says Joan, "and when Ken visited to pick up our son for visitation rights he'd always drop by and see this guy."

"I never bothered too much about this," says Joan. "As long as peace prevailed - which it did after a while - I didn't care much what Ken did, but I did get suspicious when he started chiding me for not being neighborly towards this old guy and his ancient mother."

"The guy and his mother were creepy and I avoided them as much as I could," says Joan, "and I got really scared when the old guy started bailing me up at the front door with a silly smile on his face when I'd come home from work."

"He always seemed to be hanging around outside my apartment when I had visitors," says Joan, "and one day I even saw him rifling through my garbage bin."
"When I caught him at my mailbox one evening I confronted him and told him not to touch my mail," says Joan, "and he went on a long and rambling sermon about the evils of divorce and the joys of love and marriage."

"Hello! Where have I heard that garbage before!"

"I just brushed him off as a loony," says Joan, "but later it occurred to me that this guy was not only spying on me but also making a play for me, probably encouraged by the fact that I had married an older man -- maybe the dope thought all old men turned me on -- or maybe he had been encouraged by Ken himself. Why else would Ken tell me to be more 'neighborly'?"

"The next time I saw Ken I told him that the old guy was annoying me and I requested that he stopped visiting him and putting ideas into the old man's addled brain," says Joan, "and Ken had the cheek to start spouting all that All You Need is Love rubbish that he'd used on me years before."

"Despite my anger I had to laugh at the prospect of loving in any way whatsoever that deranged old man," says Joan. "Ignore, yes, but have a friendly neighborly relationship with, no way!"

"Ken seems to believe that if you're not in a loving relationship with everyone around you then you're in a hateful relationship with them," sighs Joan. "That's magical thinking - the sort of magical mushroom thinking that inspired his heroes the Beatles to write All You Need is Love. And when Ken talks about love, he means s-e-x, and that's exactly what the old neighbor had in mind, too. It's repulsive!"

"God know what Ken had said to that guy," sighs Joan. "I should have known better than to think that he would get on with his life without causing me further trouble."

"To me, indifference is the opposite to love, not hate," says Joan. "Hate is an aspect of love, a incredibly strong feeling that you can only feel for someone you might otherwise love. I don't hate anyone! I love only a few people. I like a lot of people. I am totally indifferent to everyone else."

"Finally, when I got really exasperated with Ken and the ridiculous turn his conversation was taking," says Joan, "he uttered a word that I particularly dislike - 'sorry'."

"Sorry is a word that always follows abuse - I lived with it daily in my marriage - and I don't want to hear it any more, especially from him," says Joan. "When his message was All You Need is Love, it seemed incongruous he would upset me and then say sorry. What's loving about that sort of behavior?"

"It worked on me when I so young and so green I might as well have been a lettuce," laughs Joan, "but now that I'm older and wiser I can't stand the Beatles and their All You Need is Love rubbish."

"I moved out of the apartment shortly after that episode," says Joan, "but can you believe that Ken used his visitation rights to get to know my new neighbors?"

"The other day one of them said to me: 'he's such a nice guy, why are you divorcing him?'," sighs Joan. "I kept my mouth shut - for my son's sake - but I'm beginning to think that Ken is going to continue to drive me nuts divorce or no divorce."