Guardian Weekend magazines agony aunt advises a woman concerned that her parents separation is harming her own prospects for love
I am 28, and my longest relationship lasted a week. I do go out and meet guys, but none of them is the sort Id want a relationship with. My parents split, amicably, before I was born, and neither has really dated since, so I suppose you could say I was raised by two single people. I had a really happy upbringing, but I didnt have a model for relationships. Im worried that even if I do find someone I want to date for more than a week, I wont know what to do after that, or Ill chicken out and break up with them again. Should I be worried? Or have I just not found the right person yet?
I sense a bit of a cop-out here. Weve all read enough books or seen enough movies by now to understand the infinite number of ways in which people love and live with each other. There is no right or wrong model for modern love. People grow up with parents who were together for ever and still dont manage to sustain any longevity in that department. Same goes for the children of divorced parents. My maternal grandparents were married and divorced three times to each other (no small feat in the 1950s), and yet my own parents have been together for 54 years.Read more →
Joanna Moorhead reflects on her relationship with her aunt a nun who lives a largely silent life in an enclosed religious order
In the summers of my childhood I saw my aunt every day. But we werent allowed to speak to each other and although I was forever glancing in her direction, hoping for a smile, she never once caught my eye. Because Bernadette was, and is, an enclosed nun. My daily sightings of her came at morning mass, when my grandmother and I would sit on the front pew in the convent chapel, from where we had a perfect vantage-point into the nuns choir behind its wrought-iron grille. Bernadette knelt second from the front in the long line of serene-looking nuns, her hands neatly hidden below her brown scapular, her head covered by a white wimple and a black veil, a creamy woollen cape across her shoulders.
To most people in the congregation, all those identically clad Carmelites looked exactly the same. But I was always absolutely sure which nun was mine, even if she wasnt allowed to look across and smile at me the way other aunts would have done.Read more →
The TV presenter and comedian advises readers. This week: out-of-touch grandparents seek to re-establish contact, and a houseguest causes bathroom botherRead more →
Finding the right person to make a commitment to can take years, but it turned out that Grace Gelder had known her perfect partner all her life
When I told my family and friends that I was planning to marry myself, my gran, who has since passed away, said: Oh, you always think of something new, Grace.
My parents, who are very open-minded, also took it in their stride. Theyd got used to my attraction to the wild and the wacky. As long as it makes you happy, Grace, were fine with it, was their reaction.Read more →
After her divorce, Indigenous writer Melissa Lucashenko and her daughter moved from a paradise on Aboriginal land to an impoverished community in Brisbane
In 2004 a real estate agent drove me, my husband Bill, and our young daughter Ruby down a winding country road. The road was near Mullumbimby in northern New South Wales, and on either side horses and cattle grazed. The hills that surrounded this valley were cloaked in lush rainforest, home to king parrots and pademelons, and just on the other side of those hills we could hear the booming of the great Pacific Ocean on the coast at New Brighton.
It was a paradise in miniature. And for all that real estate agent knew, we were just another cashed up couple trying to make the sea change that all of Australia was dreaming of. But in truth, there was something else going on. Because this was Bundjalung jagun, this was Bundjalung country, my ancestral land, land that my grandmothers had been forced off.Read more →
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