Carl Jung once said  “The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.”

I read of a relationship that to me had everything that Jung was talking about. Both persons transformed by love, emotion, sexuality, chemistry, commitment and that special bonding two people have. Unconditional love. Both are in their 60s – warm, intelligent, honest and completely open. They ran a successful business in a small, idyllic, sleepy seaside town, where people leave their doors open whilst they pop down to the beach for a swim.

Now, this couple is at the centre of a hate campaign. Their mail-order gardening business, that they built out of their love for horticulture, (after both leaving successful teaching careers,) was torched 6 months ago. The packing shed destroyed, along with the part-time jobs of 8 employees at the height of the season.

Now here’s the thing: it has cost them their business, and left them preparing to quit the beach-side community that they love.  But, more than this, it has caused them to question being openly gay!!

Between them, the couple has five children and 10 grandchildren who all know that their grans are in a lesbian marriage. They have both lived in heterosexual relationships. They married each other, celebrating their love and Lesbian commitment in a Civil Union ceremony.

In their time living in this tiny community, they have never had a bad word uttered against them. Now the hatred has escalated to crudely written graffiti scrawled across their cars, fences, sleep out and the walls of their cosy house.

People are disgusted and asking why them? There has been a gay presence, including a lesbian community, in the area for many years, without anything like this ever occurring.

So…why now?  They’ve never hidden their sexuality, or in fact their relationship.

They’re optimistic that the general ease with which they, as a gay couple have been accepted as any straight couple, will continue to be the hallmark of the seaside village in which they live despite the ‘homophobic’ attack on them.

It is a sad indictment in today’s society, where we are taught tolerance and acceptance that attacks of this nature continue to take place.

We don’t care that politicians living in a Lesbian relationship can become pregnant, or that a ’super-star’ and his partner can adopt a child, but when it comes down to this everyday ordinary couple, out pours the hatred.

Perhaps they are a much easier target for the cowardly, gutless person that has set out to destroy this unassuming couple in their 60s.

Many of my friends are gay and openly in loving relationships.  I love and respect their decision to commit to each other. Sometimes I look at them and wish that every couple had what they have. Sadly this is not the case.

There is still far too much hatred and homophobia on this Mortal Coil.

Even Pope Benedict has said the Catholic Church could not accept gay marriage and urged young people to root out evil in society and shun a lukewarm” faith that damages their Church.

He needs to take a long hard look inside His own house first!!

As my mother once said:

“Before you try to change other people, just remember how hard it is to change yourself.”

I’m not sure when I first started to follow Carly Findlay on Twitter. I can’t remember when she went from being a tiny picture on my laptop screen to a person I genuinely grew to care for.

I don’t know how we started to chat, perhaps it was a recommendation from someone on Twitter, perhaps it was our mutual love of all things Callan Mulvey. I honestly don’t know, but the one thing I do know, was that when we started interacting I wasn’t aware Carly had a disability. This I guess comes down to the fact that she doesn’t let it define her. Plus, to be honest, Carly was just ace. Is, just ace. Carly is funny, relevant, spirited, is a fantastic writer and to be honest, often more in tune with the ways of the world than what I am.

Carly Findlay was born with Ichthyosis. In her own words Carly explains what this means:

“I am red and scaly. My skin gets itchy and sore. My face is the reddest part of my body because it is exposed to the elements. I get infections easily – generally on my legs, but sometimes on my face. Sometimes my infections result in hospital stays where I am bandaged up like a mummy. These infections can make me very sore.”

Carly as a baby

I had the pleasure of meeting Carly in real life, for the second time last month in her home town of Melbourne and we caught up for dinner. I was able to witness first hand people’s reaction to her. I noticed it, I’m not sure if she did. The stares on the Tram, the looks from the less obvious on the city streets. On the flip side, I saw her interact with people in a way, and start conversations with strangers, that I guess I never usually would. And people were attracted to her vibrancy.

Recently Carly featured on Triple J’s Hack program discussing love and dating with a disability, so I decided to ask her a few more questions of my own:

HAVE YOU HAD MANY RELATIONSHIPS? TELL ME ABOUT THEM:

Four I guess, maybe five, but I can’t define the fifth one. Though I loved the fifth more than anyone before.

I guess they’ve all been problematic – the boys have often had bigger issues of their own than my skin condition. I have been asked if I’ve settled for people with disabilities because of mine. No, but I have settled for douchebags.

There was the guy who lied about his whole life, two unemployed ones, one addicted to painkillers who had an alter ego, and one extremely troubled man. Charmers! But I saw good in all of them at the time, sometimes beyond. Sometimes I think when people have bad attributes, the good shines through, like a silver lining.

And there have been a lot of unrequited loves. I loved my best friend for about three years. I’d watch the footy, bored out of my brain, just to be with him! He and I shared a moment, but he told me I was “too fucking special” to him to take things further. Devastating.

Sometimes when I have had a boyfriend I feel like letting those who doubted I ever would have one know. “I’ve found love! I’ve had sex! And you never thought I would!” hahaha!

WHO IS YOUR IDEAL MAN? WHAT ARE HIS CHARACTERISTICS, BOTH IN PERSONALITY AND PHYSICALITY?

I like a man who will treat me right, is compassionate, understanding and accepting, is intelligent, makes a difference in the world even if it’s just a small thing like helping a stranger, and who can have a laugh.

Physically I like a man who is taller than me, nice eyes and big smile. I like a bit of scruff – a beard is cute.

When I was younger I really liked boys with long hair and piercings, but I don’t know if those characteristics work well now I’m looking in the 25-35 age bracket! I once had a boyfriend with 11 piercings, a chain that went from his nose to ear rings, and had long plaits with a shaved top of head.

Celebrity ideal men – Callan Mulvey! Sam Johnson, Hamish Blake, Brendan Cowell, Caleb Followill from Kings of Leon.

WHAT DO YOU MISS MOST, BEING SINGLE?

Sharing my day with someone.

Being held at night.

Knowing things only “we’d” know.

I KNOW IT PYSICALLY HURTS OFTEN TO BE TOUCHED. INTAMACY IS A BIG PART OF ANY RELATIONSHIP. IS THIS A CHALLENGE?

Being touched doesn’t hurt all the time, except when my skin is really sore. I guess the biggest challenge is being comfortable enough to let someone see my whole body. I’m happy with my shape and size – I got some great assets! But I worry about how they’ll react to my skin shedding.

That’s probably a big factor in me preferring to be intimate with someone I love and trust, and who is understanding, rather than casual encounters. Sometimes I wish I was more inclined to pursue casual encounters, but the emotional effort for me is so great when starting any relationship that I’d rather expend the energy cultivating a more meaningful relationship.

DO YOU FALL FOR WORDS OR LOOKS? A COMBINATION?

Usually it starts with words. I fall for a good vocabulary and articulate writing. I think I had one relationship or whatever it was, based on a year of words (texts, emails, phone calls) and three days physical contact.

Maybe it is because most of my relationships have started with the Internet.

Words are hard though – you only get a 2 dimensional perspective of the person. It is easy to forget they may have values that you don’t agree with. And you can also conjure up an ideal.

I think If I have a connection to someone via words, the physical attraction heightens. With Matt*, I hardly took notice of his looks initially, it was all about his thoughts and words. And perhaps because of our connection I thought he was one of the most beautiful looking men I had ever seen.

HAVE YOU CONSIDERED OR TRIED A DATING SITE?

I have tried many, particularly when I moved to Melbourne. I’m in two minds about them whenever I use them. I want men to get to know me for my fabulousness, but even online there’s a superficiality, and despite being honest about my skin and writing about all the great things I do in my life, if they don’t like the way I look, or don’t like that I have a chronic illness, they won’t get to know me. Even despite their profile listing that they want a girl who is different, and they have a kind heart.

Sometimes I think as ‘open minded’ people say they are, disability and chronic illness can be too confronting for them. It’s like being in a very competitive catalogue.

I have met a few of my boyfriends online though. One on a dating site. The others on ICQ and Facebook – and one at the train station (I dumped him on a train too!). It’s hard to be honest when communicating with someone from an online dating site without it sounding like I’m pleading for acceptance.

WHAT IS THE WORST THING A GUY HAS EVER SAID TO YOU? THE BEST?

The worst:

“Your looks and illness are too much of a burden on me” – an Internet date. Didn’t go past the first date.

“Didn’t I tell you I don’t love you anymore?” – an ex boyfriend.

The best:

My second boyfriend used to be very protective of me and would often be very defensive if people stared or commented. It was chivalrous, but got annoying when he’d be more confrontational than the starer!!

It’s also been nice being told “I love you”. (of course)

“You are the person I admire the most. Not my favourite rock stars or sports personalities. YOU. 99% of the time I see your posts they are very constructive and mostly of some joy. I wish I had the courage that you have.

“I wish you everything Carly. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. When I see the pics of you smiling, it makes me smile.”

SO YOU HAVE RECENTLY SPLIT UP FROM SOMEONE. WELL, FOR GOOD AND YOU ARE HURTING. WHAT SONG IS ON REPEAT RIGHT NOW?

I don’t know if it’s a break up because as I said, this thing has been so hard to define. (Darren Hayes once sang “how do redefine something that never really had a name?”) But it is certainly I love/d him more than I have ever felt, and now I feel it’s a loss and I feel like I’m grieving.

I discovered I don’t have any uplifting songs. They all feel like they’ve been written about or for me!

Gotye’s Somebody I Used To Know and Adele’s Someone Like You have fitting words for the situation.

Darren Hayes – Bloodstained Heart – it feels like he’s giving me a hug with this song.

Bertie Blackman Television – I can just relate to the lyrics: “where she wants to be like everyone else, she wants to fit in, be loved“.

IF YOU COULD GIVE THE GUYS OUT THERE A WORD OF ADVICE ON HOW TO APPROACH YOU AND/OR ASK YOU OUT, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

Don’t be afraid of the way I look. Take a chance and get to know me to find out I’m more than just a red face. And I hope that they can see my beauty – inner and outer. I am a great cook, love music and will make you laugh. And my boobs are pretty good too!

Below has been taken from Carly’s blog which I highly recommend you read. She captures the essence in a situation in such a way, I could only dream of being able to replicate.

This week marks one year since I began to love him. I remember my realisation – it was after a text from him, telling me he is glad he started talking to me, it feels so easy, and reconfirmed after an after midnight text following a three hour conversation telling me I am the perfect girl for him. I fell quick, I fell hard. I wonder whether I am destined to keep falling in love this way – through words alone?

A couple of months ago I wrote about wondering whether a year will go by with a day where I wouldn’t think of him. The answer is no. There hasn’t been one day in these 12 months that I haven’t felt something for him. Sadness, frustration, and hope. But mostly love.

Just after I wrote that piece, we became in contact more than we’ve ever been. It has been one of the good things to come out of a very bad situation. Long emails and texts almost each day, and one call. The contact is, to an extent, more positive. I’m comfortable talking about things with him that I’d never with somebody else.

I feel a different kind of love for him now. It is more realistic due to the difference and distance between us. I feel it’s evolved from idealism and me wanting to be in a relationship, to lustful, to heartbroken…and now it’s this type of caring, understanding, non judgmental, fully trusting love on my part. It’s the kind of love I hope to feel growing old with someone. Only I won’t with him. It’s a nostalgic love. I feel more sad than happy about it, especially when he told me he wishes he could have our time again.

I don’t expect love from him in return. Though in the past I’ve hoped for it, I’ve never expected it. Just loving him is enough for me. Is that unhealthy? To settle for unrequited love?

This thing. It’s based on words and memories alone. And need. Mutual need. Unconventional love. I sort of want to set him free from my heart. He deserves this love from somebody closer to him, and so do I. And then I get sad at the thought of him no longer needing me.

A month ago I went to see a counsellor. The counsellor asked whether I loved him.

I said yes.

The counsellor asked whether I told him that I loved him.

Only once in person. A few times recently in text, to remind him of his worth to me. But I don’t want to push it. I don’t want to ruin things. Maybe he knows my love for him through my loyalty. I have every right to tell him I love him, the counsellor told me, for I have earned my stripes.

I’ve earned my stripes. I love him.

I find the above a beautiful piece. Settling for unrequited love? You deserve so much more than that Carly.

Thank you Carly, you are a simply wonderful.

The year was 1995. John Howard had become Leader of the Opposition again, Bill Clinton was “not having sexual relations” with Monica Lewinsky and Peter Andre had a top 40 hit. It was shaping up to be quite the screwy year. It was also the year I met my future husband.

You don’t know it at the time of course. That this person you first spy across a crowded room, exchange words with, kiss shyly, will one day be your husband, wife or partner. Although some people will say that they did know. That from the very minute they met them, they would be with them forever. I can’t say that was the case with me though. In fact, I really wanted to flip my future husband off and tell him he was a complete tosspot the very first time I met him.

It was a summer’s day and I had just pulled up to the beach with my girlfriend. I immediately clocked him sitting with my brother on a seat watching the surf. He slowly gave me the once over and then returned his gaze to the surf. We walked over to say Hi. His only words to me at the time were “Would you like me to call you a cab so you can get back to your car?” I turned back to look at my Mazda 121, which granted, was parked a little farther from the kerb than necessary but certainly not smartarse comment worthy. In response to this, I asked if he’d like for me to call 1987 and see if they wanted their Top Gun Sunnies back. I was also tempted to kick him in the shins and run but I was nothing if not mature. See, the first couple of times I met my future husband; he was quite the arrogant wanker. Sitting smoking a cigarette quietly in the corner of any social situation, answering my questions with short, sharp and witty observations that made him sound both untouchable and seemingly, a bit of a cockhead. A very attractive cockhead, but a cockhead none the less. All irrelevant of course, we were both in long term relationships, not like anything could happen anyway. Right?

I don’t know about you, but I’ve always been intrigued about a couple’s story. How they met. How they got together. Was it fate? Was there just a teeny, tiny bit of stalking involved? In fact, it’s usually my first question when I meet a new couple and not because I’m a fan of small talk, I honestly want to know their story. Because there is always a story.

Here is mine. It’s pretty quick. It’s not at all romantic and it certainly won’t be something I’ll be regaling the grandchildren with one day.

So, like I said, it was 1995. Tommy Lee and Pammy Anderson had just spontaneously gotten married down the beach and given women all over the world new lofty romantic ideals. I was 19 and in a relationship with a guy, who although nice enough, wasn’t my lightening bolt. He wasn’t even my flickering light bulb, he was just my first real boyfriend. And the bong smoking and drinking wasn’t really doing it for me anymore. We’d stalled and my eye had started to wander. It genuinely took him by surprise when I told him it was over. It was sad. It was rough. I’m pretty sure he’s never forgiven me.

So of course, like any good single 19-year-old girl, I, along with my best friend, proceeded to go out and get completely shit faced at a friend’s birthday party. And whattya know, who should be there celebrating also, but Phil, being as big a bastard as ever. He made some smartarse comment to me and I returned the favour in kind. It was then that he gave me a look that I’ve never quite forgotten. It was almost like he registered me. I was after all, his mate’s little sister. Who’d grown up. Suddenly it was on. Like Donkey Kong.

We all proceeded to get quite merry and before I knew it, we were dancing in Cocktails and Dreams. He was dancing. I was dancing. Suddenly we were dancing together. Hands in the air, getting rather into it on the dance floor type dancing, revolting and in hindsight, unrepressed dirty dancing that needed to be relocated to a private room type dancing. Sadly, we couldn’t find a room so we went down the beach. And yep, I was the girl who slept with the guy on the first, well, not even date. Turns out it was the longest one night stand in history.

But from that night on, we were inseparable. Every time I saw him I felt sick and happy and like the hours spent away from him, would most definitely kill me. I think that is the technical description of love. We got married 4 years later. Complete with 5-month-old baby in my belly. You can say it – Shotgun, although to be honest, it wasn’t forced at all. Because I knew I wanted to marry him from probably the 5th time I met him.

So I guess the moral of the story here is this: every small snippet of time adds up to something. Possibly even something big, like meeting the person you will fall in love with. And you probably won’t recognise it at the time, but in retrospect, you’ll see how the puzzle came together, piece by inexplicable piece.

What is your story? Please, at least one of you, have a story about meeting your lover in Paris when they saved you from being sucked under a bus. Give a girl something to dream about tonight.

My husband and I have been together 16 years in March.  Sixteen years.  We’ve been married for nearly 12 of those years. 
 
I have curious younger friends who question when I knew he was the one.   I reckon it was from day dot.  Not kidding, it just was.  Well, actually, no I romanticise the situation, it was from probably the 4th or 5th time I met him.  The first three times he was a complete arsehole.

So I guess the playground rules still exist.  You know – the one that picks on you the most just really wants to be your boyfriend.  That or he truly is an arsehole.
  
From  then on in, and after one particular night of excessive alcohol consumption and inappropriate groping, we were an item.  Rarely spent a night apart since and haven’t really wanted to.

But the honeymoon period only lasts so long.  There has to be reasons why you stay interested.  I’ve compiled a little list of things to watch out for, so you know he’s a keeper….
 
He is always more than obliging when you call him on his way home and say, no honey, we don’t need any milk, but could you please buy me some Super Jumbo tampons?  And then he buys them entirely on their own, getting the brand and size correct, and even manages to makes eye contact with the checkout chick when purchasing.

He, albeit reluctantly, trots off to the chemist and requests out aloud, in front of all the eavesdropping waiting oldies,  for some “cream for scabies”.    Even when the wide eyed salesgirl pretends not hear him and makes him SPELL OUT the affliction, he doesn’t run.   And to his credit, he doesn’t even appear to notice the looks of disgust that are being daggered his way from the clearly repulsed chemist staff.  There’s nothing good about scabies.  Or so I’ve heard. *cough*

He will keep the kids entertained when you have a hangover.  Even if he had an equally large night, he will be able to function and most importantly, make sure your children, are fed, bathed and don’t escape onto the road.  I got to test  this out on Fathers Day last year. Yes.  I am well aware of how much of a truly shit wife that makes me.

He will wrestle with his children on the floor until he makes one of them cry and possibly need medical attention in his attempt to win WWF night.  Although I don’t recommend this, a recent study has shown, these are the kids that are going grow up smart and social.  It’s his version of homeschooling.

He will not tell you how to drive and/or park your car.  Oh wait, nope, he does this, Retraction.

He will not sympathy vomit when your child does.  Even though said child may appear to be doing their best imitation of Linda Blair and roundhouse spewing bright green chunks, he will solider on, taking control of the situation and cleaning it up so you can get down to dry heaving yourself and comforting the child.

He accepts that even though you have given birth to the children, they are equally his and as such, must partake in such activities as making dinner, preparing lunches and showering them.   Oh, and reading them The Very Hungry fucking Caterpillar again and again and again and…

He will sit through a very bad rom-com even though you will rarely sit through one of his movies that more than likely involves The Rock, explosives and swear words even I refuse to write.

And last but not least, he will ask you for a cuppa if he is getting up to get himself one.  I have been known to wait him out for hours for this, knowing full well he will crack before I do.

Of course, they are my observations and don’t get me wrong, we are far from perfect. Perhaps there are things your partner still does. After all these years. That make you appreciate them and remember why you fell in love in the first place.  Feel free to share them below.