The Ruby Knight Chronicles

I've dated the nicest guy in the world. A man that opened my car door, brought me flowers on every date, was incredibly kind and compassionate, genuinely cared about me, messaged me in the morning to wish me a happy day and messaged me at night to find out all about my day. He was perfect. On paper. But even just writing this, I can't help but.... <YAAAAAAWN> Poor bloke. There was absolutely noth ing wrong with him. But there's clearly a defect in my man-liketh muscle. I turn my nose up at the nice guys, I wish I didn't, life would be fuckloads easier if I didn't. Unfortunately I like the bad guys. The ones with a streak of asshole in them. The ones you know not to bring home to your parents. The ones that always break your heart. So what the fuck is my problem?!! Clearly I know the nice guys are the better bet, but try as I might, eventually I end up walking right over them and then walking away. So it got me thinking about men. What kinds of categori...

They say when you've moved on from something, it doesn't hurt you anymore. But I think that's bullshit. I had such a good night with my ex last night. But it was twinged with a little something sad. We were getting on famously like old times, laughing at our tragic events of 2016 and reminiscing on our old times. And then the subject of dating came up. So I've obviously been on a few dates mysel f so I apparently cannot expect him to live his life without love. I know, wtf right. But I didn't expect hearing about it to affect me as much as it did, or even at all. It not only surprised me a little, but it made me feel a little down. Now I know we can never be together like we were, because I've got a whole new life in a completely different country to him but mostly because we can openly admit that we're terrible together. Like swimming in the ocean after a vadge wax terrible. But I guess I've always subconsciously fanned this little flicker of ho...

I'm 29. A few years back I forced a drunken pact on an ex that if we're both single by the time I'm 32, we'll have a baby together. It probably seems a bit silly or lacking in sentiment or just batshit crazy to you guys, but I think it's a wee bit genius. I love my ex. I love his values. I think he'd make an amazing father one day. And let's face it, my barren womb is only getting more and more  useless as the years tick by and no babies inhabit it. So fuck convention. Fuck the norm. Fuck what anyone else snickers about behind closed doors, because gossipers are never forthcoming to the subject of their gossip, with their gossip. I want to be a Mum. One day. And if having a "backstop" babymaker means being one step closer to that goal, then I'm riding that crazy train all the way to motherhood. Life is a blank canvas just waiting for you to splash some paint on it. There are no lines to colour between. The are no rules. You just make yo...

Week five on the road. First proper lazy day off in a week. Slept in until 8:30, now I'm sitting in a rainforest having coffee. My job definitely doesn't get boring. Last time I posted I was heading to Townsville. The Chilean couple I was traveling/working with left and my boss Alf arrived up to work with me. We left Townsville and drove the 4hrs north to Cairns where we enjoyed a few lazy days,  restaurant meals and 59 million cups of coffee. We then drove 12hrs north east to Weipa, which included 2hrs drive in torrential rain at night with kamikaze kangaroos and dirt roads that resembled rivers more than roads. Stayed a few days there before heading right up to the very top of Australia, to a little place called Bamaga. We had beachfront accommodation which was stunning, if you ignored the fact that the water was filled with crocodiles. A few days later and we were back in Cairns where Alf swapped places with his wife Tash. Us two girls hit the road again and ended up i...

First week of work without the bosses. And fuck my asshole and call me a cowboy, did our first week test us. Day one. Woken up at 330am. Someone smashed the driver's window of our work van. Left the GPS and $200 in the ashtray. Stole some apples and my undies off the line. Bless.  Day two. No real hitches except for finding out that the panty apple thieves also stole knives from the butcher and are on an animal-mutilating, pre-serial killer spree. Mad comforting. New accommodation out of town though. Lush accommodation. My own freaking apartment fit for a queen accommodation even. Day three. Late finish. Drove home in the dark petrified of kamikazee kangaroos. No fatalities with the exception of my nerves. Day four. Some little fucker stole a prop chair. Another late finish. Another white-knuckled drive home in the dark. Day five. Even later finish. No real sales. Feeling like a bullshitter selling bullshit instead of a sales girl selling photos. Still no suicidal marsupials....

I'm ovulating. And I know that not because of some weird app that tracks aunt flow's monthly visitations, but because I'm having a "fuck my single life" moment. Or FMSL. Once a month I get really sooky. Like tempted to text my ex for an obviously disastrous any other time of the month reunion type sooky. Everywhere I turn there's motherfucking couples holding motherfucking hands and being all m otherfucking cute and shit. And then there's me holding my own hand thinking about my cat. For the most part I really dig being a solo senorita, who can spend as much money at Kmart and flirt with as many unsuspecting innocent male bystanders as she likes. But these ovulation-induced relationship pangs really make my single girl spasms start to hurt. And I find myself reevaluating and reimagining every encounter with the opposite sex that I've ever had. Shitty ex-boyfriends become born-again potential hubsters. Drunken foolish one night stands begin to s...

At 17 I met the love of my life. At 28 I walked away from him forever.  The love never died. A year on and I still love him. I still catch myself thinking about him and missing him. But it's far too late and there's far too much water that's crossed under too many bridges to ever be reunited again.  We never learnt how to let our egos go. We never learnt how to be a team. We just didn't know how  to get past our disagreements and arguments, so they haunted us well past being done. Little mistakes became mountains of pain and hurt. Small and petty became life-ruining big. And eventually love just wasn't enough anymore. The last time I saw him, I was getting in my car and had this dull beating pain in my heart. I knew after 9yrs this would be the last time. My mind rushed back through the years of love and happiness. I got out of my car and wrapped my arms around him. He stood there awkwardly. I didn't want to let go, but I had to. This hug wasn't a big e...