In which I cry on the hall floor

It was just before 3am last night when it occurred to me that I might not be coping very well with my break-up after all.

There were a few subtle signs; namely that I was curled up, foetal position, on my hall floor, still wearing my stilettos, crying drunkenly and hugging my cat.

The Essex Boy broke up with me two months and six days ago. I didn't write much about him on this blog while we were together, but suffice to say I loved him very much. The reasons for our break up are simple - I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, but he didn't want to spend the rest of his with me.

I had seemed to be coping pretty well. After taking a day off work to cry, I picked myself up, brushed myself down and carried on with my life. I took sleeping tablets at night so I wouldn't lie awake thinking about him, I swapped baths for showers, I signed up to help at my local Cadet Squadron so I'd be busy, I collected the gorgeous Oscar from Cat Protection, I had a fringe cut. Friends commented on how well I seemed to be coping as I chatted to my ex in the office (we work for the same company) and said wise, balanced things like, "He's not a bad person, he couldn't help how he felt."

Crucially though, I also embarked on a rebound. The Rebound was an army officer who pursued me relentlessly and made me feel sexy. However, he also called all the shots and lived for the drama. One night he'd be texting me until gone midnight asking about my sexual fantasies... the next night he'd pretty much ignore me while we were out with friends. I let this continue for six weeks, despite the fact that I wasn't even sure I liked him, and the sex was fairly mediocre.

Which brings me neatly back to why I was crying on the hall floor at 3am this morning. Being rejected by someone I wasn't even that interested in was a deeply unpleasant experience, and made me realise just how little I was valuing myself. Everything I've been doing has just been a distraction, and I've not allowed myself to grieve, because grieving hurts. Plus I don't want a new boyfriend - I can't imagine opening myself up to anyone at the moment - and I certainly don't want to be messing about with boys who purport to be almost thirty and yet behave as if they're characters in Dawson's Creek.

So I've made a decision - no men until at least Christmas. And I don't just mean no sex... I mean no kissing, dating, flirting... not even any lingering looks across the bar. I am one of the flirtiest people I know, so this might be tough, but I have to stop needing a man in the wings to be happy. The only men in my life will be my closest friends, my dad and brothers, my minky little cat, and this picture of Digby Ioane.

That's going to be enough for now.

Men aren't victims of feminism... but that doesn't mean they're not victims

There's an article in the Guardian's G2 supplement today by Suzanne Moore, critiquing a new book called The Second Sexism by Professor David Benatar (probably no relation to Pat, unfortunately) which claims that men are being discriminated against, and that it's largely the fault of feminists. (Disclaimer: I haven't read the book, I'm just paraphrasing Suzanne's article.) Now, I like Suzanne Moore, I think she is an interesting writer and supporter of women's rights, and I think that even within this article, she makes some undeniably good points... but I think she also makes some glaring mistakes. 

First off, Suzanne says: "Every so often a new tome details how men, not women, are discriminated against (apart from rape, murder, equal pay, genital mutilation, the power imbalance in politics, business, education, law and arts they may have a point)."

Now, she's obviously right on a lot of this. Women are still vastly under-represented in politics, business, law and the arts - and even if they're not, in areas like sport, media coverage still focuses almost entirely on men. But genital mutilation? I'm not suggesting that this isn't a hugely important issue for women, and I'm aware that female genital mutilation can be much more invasive and damaging than male circumcision. BUT. According to L Markowitz, M Sternberg, and S Aral (2006), data from a national survey conducted from 1999 to 2002 found that the overall prevalence of male circumcision in the United States was 79%. Just because it's generally more acceptable to circumcise a man than a women doesn't mean that it's ok. In my opinion, this is certainly an area in which men can claim themselves to be prejudiced against, particularly when looking at the Western world, where the female equivalent is certainly less prevalent, if no less horrifying.

Suzanne then goes on to say that, according to Benatar, "One of the ways men are more discriminated against is that there are more of them in prison than women. I may be missing something here, but I thought it was to do with them doing more crime?"

She's probably right - I don't know the stats, but I'm assuming from this that it's correct to assume that more men do go to prison, and it's probably because they commit more crimes, or, indeed, worse crimes. However, isn't saying that more men go to prison because more men commit crimes a bit like saying more women are part of the sex trade because more women choose to be prostitutes? We can't analyse the reasons that women do more of something - be strippers, give up work to look after the kids, book bikini waxes - and then just write off the fact that more men go to prison as being because they're bad people. I recently read an article about young women in gangs, which said they often sleep with many of the gang members in order to gain acceptance (I'm paraphrasing and I can't remember where this article was, sorry - I'd make an appalling investigative journalist). Is it too much of a leap of faith to assume, for example, that more men in gangs commit violent acts in order to gain acceptance? Shouldn't we be considering why more men are committing crimes? Couldn't that be to do with some kind of discrimination against them - some kind of cultural expectation that men are 'hard'?

I want to be clear here - I'm not agreeing with Benatar. He obviously doesn't even understand feminism - for example, he says that men are discriminated against in terms of parental leave, apparently without realising that we'd like equal maternity and paternity pay as much as he would. And I'm not suggesting for a moment that white, middle-class men are a deeply persecuted section of society. But if girls are outperforming boys at school... if men are committing more crimes... if quotas are leading to excellent men being replaced on the board by average women... well, these are all things we should be considering alongside our traditional feminist causes. It's about equality, people. It's not us against them.

In which I write a letter to myself, aged sixteen

When I started this blog, I was in a confusing place. Newly single for the first time in, well, ever, I had a lot of soul searching to do. I called it Goodbye Ruby Tuesday because I felt I was at a major turning point in my life, saying goodbye to the girl I had been for so long and saying hello to... someone new. I didn't know then who that person would be.

A little over a year on, I feel like a whole new woman. It wasn't long ago that I told Forces Wife I felt I was "still making all the same old mistakes", but I finally feel as if I'm growing up. And with that new found sense of wisdom, I thought I'd tackle something I have been wanting to do for a while... a letter to my sixteen-year-old self:

Dear R*,

You're sixteen, and you think you're a grown up, so I know you're not going to listen to a single word I have to say. At 27, I am officially too old to "understand you" - it's all such a cliche, isn't it? Regardless, I'm about to tell you a few things that will make your life a whole lot easier:

You're not going to do that well in your GCSEs. I know, awful right? Well, not really... sure, mum will go mental (more on this later) but let's face it, you're pretty lazy and you're not that interested in most of your subjects. But don't worry, you'll pull it out the bag for your A-Levels. Having done next to no work this time around, you'll work really hard for those and get the grades you need to get to your first choice university. (Drop biology the first chance you get though - a D at AS-Level is worth about two beans to the university admissions board, and you'll get more free periods to play UNO with Forces Wife work on your Psychology coursework.)

This year, you will meet your first love. He's wonderful. You will have some wonderful times together, and some mind-blowing sex. But remember, he's just your first love, he's not your only one. Between you, you'll royally screw it up in a couple of years. Enjoy it though - he does love you, you do love him, you're just young. Maybe consider breaking up before you start uni though. Just a suggestion.

I know that you and mum hate each other right now. This year will be the worst. It'll all start to improve when you turn 18, and you'll actually move back home for almost five years after university. (Seriously - houses are a lot more expensive than you imagine.) When you have your heart broken for real at 25, she will be your rock. Just remember this - she only wants what is best for you, but she is only human. She makes mistakes too.

The biggest mistake mum ever makes will have a disproportionate effect on your self esteem. Please try not to let it define you. If you take it to heart, it will take you more than ten years to deal with the repercussions. A few days after you get those disappointing GSCE grades, you'll both be going to see some very high achieving friends of yours and their mothers. Mum is embarrassed by your comparatively low grades. This is her issue, not yours. She will tell you to "make an effort" because "at least you're prettier than them" - the implication being, of course, that you are relatively lacking in all other areas. This comment will lead to you defining yourself by your looks for many years. One day in more than a decade's time, you will wake up and realise that you have been relying on men who do not deserve you at all to validate you. If you could realise this now, you'll save yourself a lot of misery and heartache.

On a related point - don't cheat. It will never, ever bring you happiness. You are ok on your own. Don't self destruct in that way - just end your floundering relationships the right way and move on. Maybe sleep with a couple less people too. The number of people you sleep with is nothing to be ashamed of... it's just... well, maybe just avoid the ugly ones, ok? And your university housemates. That ain't ever going to work out well.

Keep in touch with your friends. Someone you aren't that close to now will be your rock in the most difficult time of your life. In fact, aged 27, the vast majority of your close friends are people you already know. Treasure that. I don't know whether I should tell you this, but the man who you will love throughout your early twenties and who will eventually break your heart is also someone you know already. In fact, you snogged him quite recently. Yep. Him. It won't work out, but he will teach you so much about yourself. Be kind to him.

Generally, your life won't work out quite how you imagine. You'll have some setbacks at work - but you will be doing a job you enjoy and are good at, so just focus and move on. When you do eventually buy a house, it won't be with a man, and this might temporarily feel like a bad thing, especially when all your home-owning friends have done it with partners. But hey, you can't even imagine how good it will feel to do that all by yourself. You won't be married by 27, and yes, several of your friends will be, but you'll have an incredible man in your life and for now that's enough for you. And you won't be pregnant by 30... or at least I bloody well hope not!

So that's what you need to know. Respect yourself, be true to yourself, work hard, and have fun. It will all turn out ok.

Lots and lots of love,

R x

*Also, the blog name references Ruby Tuesday because she shares my initials. Oh yeah. Not just a pretty face.