A short while ago I ran into the Invisible Boyfriend, for the first time in a long while. He was ever so nice; quite flattering really, telling me how lovely I was and how I was nicer to know than some other guys who wasted his time etc. In the end we agreed to meet again and the other weekend I went round to his place for a coffee.
It was exactly as I remembered it, from three or so years ago. Exactly. Unchanged. He’d just bought the place then and had big plans for the garden, and redecorating. I was keen to help as I recall, a Way of bonding and growing our relationship. Today; the swatches of colour are still on the walls and the project has moved forward not a jot.
I have no doubt he has been busy and he’s had his holidays and family dramas. It will be nice in many ways to develop a friendship (if it happens) with an ex (of sorts). He’s one of the few that has kept in at least intermittent contact, and being part of his life in some way has a pleasing element to it; I can be a good friend and more rounded person.
Still, gentle reader, there was a slight melancholy air to out chat. A ghost of an opportunity lost in the air, just tangibly putting a slight pall over things. I couldn’t help thinking about how my life has changed in the last few years; how many times I’ve changed jobs, relationships, house, and of course where I’ve ended up. Except of course it’s not an end – there is so much more going forward to look forward to.
What I sensed from the Invisible Ex was none of the forward look that I see in others. And of course that I hope I embody for us. I had been out of sorts most recently but have been feeling much better and more energised, mainly due to some changes at work that have presented some real new challenges but partly because it’s Fella’s birthday coming up and we have our holiday/visit to family planned.
I’m being a bit disparaging of the Invisible Ex, I think. After all one of the main issues was that he was too busy and self involved to really be who I needed those three-plus-years ago. It will be interesting to see how much we have both changed as we try to be friends. I certainly look forward to seeing who his real Mr Right is!!
Showing posts with label dumped. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dumped. Show all posts
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
Thursday, 28 August 2008
Best laid plans
Gareth travelled back today from a long weekend away, so I wanted to make our date/meeting this evening as hassle free [and special] as possible for him. However, when we spoke this afternoon Gareth instead wanted to meet in town, and a bit later than we had discussed before; I reluctantly agreed, and in fact I was at the time a bit disappointed because I was secretly looking forward to snuggles and the rest at Chez G!
Anyway, Gareth and I met on the South Bank (Benugo’s this time) and we had a couple of drinks and he seemed quite affectionate, and I thought the evening was going really well. But then, about 10pm, my world came crashing down.
Gareth seemed quite on tenterhooks all evening, and kept saying how this was the fourth time we’d met, etc. And I thought that things were going to take a great leap forward – but sadly not.
It seems Gareth is uncertain and consumed with doubt about whether or not he and I could build a relationship. He wanted to let me know now so I wouldn’t get hurt later, allegedly. He said he regretted the fact we’d gone to bed on our first date. Charming.
In fact he was articulating himself very poorly and presumably my rapidly evolving demeanour did not help the words trip off his tongue. I tried to press him on whether he was saying he didn’t want to see me again, but he would not be drawn. Instead he’s going to think about things and call me on Sunday. Or maybe we’ll meet up. Oh joy.
In truth I can’t decide whether I’m more angry or upset (I’m a lot of both right now). To have someone essentially try and set out that he couldn’t decide if I’m too unpleasant to keep seeing as my, apparently regrettable, sluttishness was getting in the way is pretty galling. To have him do it whilst holding my hand is something else.
It’s all I can do not to call, text, or email him to tell him exactly what I think of him right now. Normally that isn’t a problem for me; I have my pride! But this time: well, thank God for brand-spanking-new Rule 4: let no man take away your dignity.
I did make clear to Gareth that I’m not willing to sit in Limbo while he makes up his mind (and in that I am quite sincere). I know he’s going to drop me on Sunday, so what’s the point? What annoys me particularly, though, is that I’ll be analysing and conjecturing all the way from can to can’t until he deigns to get off his arse/cloud and make up his mind. And quite possibly beyond…
Memo to men generally: much as we appreciate cock, it would be even better if you grew some balls as well.
Anyway, Gareth and I met on the South Bank (Benugo’s this time) and we had a couple of drinks and he seemed quite affectionate, and I thought the evening was going really well. But then, about 10pm, my world came crashing down.
Gareth seemed quite on tenterhooks all evening, and kept saying how this was the fourth time we’d met, etc. And I thought that things were going to take a great leap forward – but sadly not.
It seems Gareth is uncertain and consumed with doubt about whether or not he and I could build a relationship. He wanted to let me know now so I wouldn’t get hurt later, allegedly. He said he regretted the fact we’d gone to bed on our first date. Charming.
In fact he was articulating himself very poorly and presumably my rapidly evolving demeanour did not help the words trip off his tongue. I tried to press him on whether he was saying he didn’t want to see me again, but he would not be drawn. Instead he’s going to think about things and call me on Sunday. Or maybe we’ll meet up. Oh joy.
In truth I can’t decide whether I’m more angry or upset (I’m a lot of both right now). To have someone essentially try and set out that he couldn’t decide if I’m too unpleasant to keep seeing as my, apparently regrettable, sluttishness was getting in the way is pretty galling. To have him do it whilst holding my hand is something else.
It’s all I can do not to call, text, or email him to tell him exactly what I think of him right now. Normally that isn’t a problem for me; I have my pride! But this time: well, thank God for brand-spanking-new Rule 4: let no man take away your dignity.
I did make clear to Gareth that I’m not willing to sit in Limbo while he makes up his mind (and in that I am quite sincere). I know he’s going to drop me on Sunday, so what’s the point? What annoys me particularly, though, is that I’ll be analysing and conjecturing all the way from can to can’t until he deigns to get off his arse/cloud and make up his mind. And quite possibly beyond…
Memo to men generally: much as we appreciate cock, it would be even better if you grew some balls as well.
Thursday, 26 June 2008
Timing
Timing is a wonderful thing. For example last night I went out with Mark; we had dinner and then we saw Indiana Jones and the Temple of Crystal Skull. Kids will enjoy the action scenes I think. But it wasn’t inspiring. The best thing about going to see the film was the reclining seats in the cinema ;-)
He’s going away this weekend, for which, as you know gentle reader, I myself have arranged some entertainment. Fortunately. and co-incidentally, after that both Mark and I are pretty much free on the same days from now to the end of August so that’s good – though I have old friends staying at the end of July and am travelling a bit for work in the meantime. So it looks like we’ll be able to spend more time together – which is good because public displays of affection aren’t Mark’s strong suit! I just want to jump him!!
One thing we’ll probably end up doing together is his garden. He has big plans for it, which I intend to set about changing to something… nicer (all stainless steel? I think not). But once done we’ve tentatively discussed having a joint party there to debut it.
In the meantime two things about Mark: (1) He can’t keep his eyes off other guys. Hmmm. That might begin to get tiresome…. (2) During the scary bit of films he puts his fingers in his ears. That’s so adorable I just want to jump him!!
Unfortunately because Mark is away again *sigh* I won’t see him again till Wednesday. For then he has insisted we have an early dinner at a place near where he lives. Which, with it being our one month anniversary, might be just the thing. I just want to jump him!!
And now for something completely different!
Death Kitty and the Fat Man
He’s going away this weekend, for which, as you know gentle reader, I myself have arranged some entertainment. Fortunately. and co-incidentally, after that both Mark and I are pretty much free on the same days from now to the end of August so that’s good – though I have old friends staying at the end of July and am travelling a bit for work in the meantime. So it looks like we’ll be able to spend more time together – which is good because public displays of affection aren’t Mark’s strong suit! I just want to jump him!!
One thing we’ll probably end up doing together is his garden. He has big plans for it, which I intend to set about changing to something… nicer (all stainless steel? I think not). But once done we’ve tentatively discussed having a joint party there to debut it.
In the meantime two things about Mark: (1) He can’t keep his eyes off other guys. Hmmm. That might begin to get tiresome…. (2) During the scary bit of films he puts his fingers in his ears. That’s so adorable I just want to jump him!!
Unfortunately because Mark is away again *sigh* I won’t see him again till Wednesday. For then he has insisted we have an early dinner at a place near where he lives. Which, with it being our one month anniversary, might be just the thing. I just want to jump him!!
And now for something completely different!
One of my favourite shows is the Geoff Show on Virgin Radio. As it’s on late I listen to the podcast the next evening. And as an incentive to us podcast listeners you can write in and get a ‘podication’ read out. Now, when Darren dumped me I sent myself a podication to cheer myself up and then forgot about it. So what happens? They read it out today! I couldn’t believe it. Check it out for yourselves (podications are at the beginning)! Slightly less good timing though; I was mortified!
Death Kitty and the Fat Man
Monday, 26 May 2008
Lazy Monday Afternoon
Today I really should be doing some work, as I have deadlines to meet and providing a good service is the foundation of my business (restrictions on advertising mean most of my new clients on the finance side contact me because of word of mouth) and, frankly, I’m pathologically against refusing work – I genuinely can’t understand the attitude of some of my friends and neighbours that refuse, or worse, abandon work half done. I have ambitions for my business and I want to be Rich Rich Rich hahahahaha…
Nevertheless I did give myself ever such a long lie in today, and then in the early afternoon went for a lovely walk along the river in the driving wind and rain (I love weather like that, don’t know why). And after popping to the supermarket I made my way back. Exhilarating.
When I got back I found I had received a further email from ‘Q’ because he wanted to explain further why he had finished with me in the way that he had. At first I was tempted to publish it here, but I won’t. Suffice it to say that I’m, apparently, sexy; attractive; warm; kind; hospitable; a good cook; a good conversationalist; I have great taste; and I’m a very good fuzunjulator with a vuduedium that just won’t quit.
But, I like late nights; parties; drinks; living it up with friends; spending more than I should; public displays of affection; laughing at inappropriate moments; and I’m not afraid to share my views or challenge others’. And this is why, he writes, I’m just not his quiet-stay-at-home type.
Though annoying – because if we had talked we might have found some middle ground, or some way of keeping going - I’m a little mystified as to what in the description he himself sets out, makes me unsuitable. Hey-ho: it’s over, the end.
It occurs to me, though, that men might sometimes not be very nice. From the postman’s peculiar but persistent inability to deliver some work from a client to me (thus costing me about £150 per day – I will have mine vengeance upon thee Royal Mail) to the shabby way I have been treated by Darren, ‘Q’ and ‘O’…
Also, currently my health problems have reached a level where the physical symptoms have become quite alarming and I need to go back to the doctor at the earliest possible opportunity.
Fortunately neither has brought me to a point where I need to stop meeting guys, so once again I find myself on the prowl.
To that end I have joined yet another site - in fact I was invited by person or persons unknown (intriguing). It's called QueerPersonals, so we'll see what happens there. Annoyingly, the site doesn't let me make a distinction between being gay or a lesbian, so at least some anecdotes for the blog, eh?
In the meantime, a couple of interesting events from the world of alphabet soup. 'X' was so pleased with Friday night's activities that he came round first thing on Saturday for more. A gap of less than eight hours; nice to be popular ;-)
We won't be having another casual hook-up, though. 'X' said he actually gets uncomfortable with those situations but we agreed that maybe we'd go out for a drink or something soon instead. We're still in touch, so we'll see.
'W' on the other hand is a guy I've been chatting to online who is in a long term relationship that is, unfortunately, sexless. So he's looking for an outlet - friend with benefits, if you will. Now that suits me just fine, but I wonder whether anything will come of it. Not because there's something wrong - far from it. We've become friends quite quickly and our conversations have a decidedly adult theme on many occasions. But, I have discovered his partner has been unfaithful and this really hurt 'W' a lot. As such, two questions arise.
The first is, if you're both playing away but not together, why? The second is, am I just 'W's way of getting revenge? I'm encouraging 'W' to talk to his partner at least in general terms about what, if anything is wrong. As I have posted before, honesty must be the absolute basis for anything that I do with a guy. Open minded, inquisitive and playful I am. But I really don't want to hurt someone's feelings. I'd rather be a true friend and forgo the 'benefits'.
Nevertheless I did give myself ever such a long lie in today, and then in the early afternoon went for a lovely walk along the river in the driving wind and rain (I love weather like that, don’t know why). And after popping to the supermarket I made my way back. Exhilarating.
When I got back I found I had received a further email from ‘Q’ because he wanted to explain further why he had finished with me in the way that he had. At first I was tempted to publish it here, but I won’t. Suffice it to say that I’m, apparently, sexy; attractive; warm; kind; hospitable; a good cook; a good conversationalist; I have great taste; and I’m a very good fuzunjulator with a vuduedium that just won’t quit.
But, I like late nights; parties; drinks; living it up with friends; spending more than I should; public displays of affection; laughing at inappropriate moments; and I’m not afraid to share my views or challenge others’. And this is why, he writes, I’m just not his quiet-stay-at-home type.
Though annoying – because if we had talked we might have found some middle ground, or some way of keeping going - I’m a little mystified as to what in the description he himself sets out, makes me unsuitable. Hey-ho: it’s over, the end.
It occurs to me, though, that men might sometimes not be very nice. From the postman’s peculiar but persistent inability to deliver some work from a client to me (thus costing me about £150 per day – I will have mine vengeance upon thee Royal Mail) to the shabby way I have been treated by Darren, ‘Q’ and ‘O’…
Also, currently my health problems have reached a level where the physical symptoms have become quite alarming and I need to go back to the doctor at the earliest possible opportunity.
Fortunately neither has brought me to a point where I need to stop meeting guys, so once again I find myself on the prowl.
To that end I have joined yet another site - in fact I was invited by person or persons unknown (intriguing). It's called QueerPersonals, so we'll see what happens there. Annoyingly, the site doesn't let me make a distinction between being gay or a lesbian, so at least some anecdotes for the blog, eh?
In the meantime, a couple of interesting events from the world of alphabet soup. 'X' was so pleased with Friday night's activities that he came round first thing on Saturday for more. A gap of less than eight hours; nice to be popular ;-)
We won't be having another casual hook-up, though. 'X' said he actually gets uncomfortable with those situations but we agreed that maybe we'd go out for a drink or something soon instead. We're still in touch, so we'll see.
'W' on the other hand is a guy I've been chatting to online who is in a long term relationship that is, unfortunately, sexless. So he's looking for an outlet - friend with benefits, if you will. Now that suits me just fine, but I wonder whether anything will come of it. Not because there's something wrong - far from it. We've become friends quite quickly and our conversations have a decidedly adult theme on many occasions. But, I have discovered his partner has been unfaithful and this really hurt 'W' a lot. As such, two questions arise.
The first is, if you're both playing away but not together, why? The second is, am I just 'W's way of getting revenge? I'm encouraging 'W' to talk to his partner at least in general terms about what, if anything is wrong. As I have posted before, honesty must be the absolute basis for anything that I do with a guy. Open minded, inquisitive and playful I am. But I really don't want to hurt someone's feelings. I'd rather be a true friend and forgo the 'benefits'.
Sunday, 25 May 2008
Schweinhund
So that was Eurovision. As is usual Britain did badly, despite fielding what I thought was a good song this year. Russia’s not very good entry won (I was hopeful Ukraine might get it). Every year we go in knowing exactly what’s going to happen, and every year a mood of sullen defiance descends over the nation the next day. Most of my friends have said we shouldn’t play any more! Well, till next year in Sunny Moscow… Still, it was a good party; I cooked a huge amount of food and brought in a vast amount of booze which I think helped!
Unfortunately things have gone off the rails with ‘Q’. He did come to my little party, but after giving a lift to a couple of people who were leaving – instead of coming back - he just sent me a text ‘…I feel like a worm… I can’t see us fitting together… You’re a great guy, and now I have run off like a coward. I’m so very sorry to hurt you as you have shown me nothing but warmth and kindness.’ All true.
I was quite angry about it actually. OK, so he doesn’t want to see me again – it would have been nice if he’d had the balls to say it to my face, being that he was in the same room as me for several hours. Or perhaps talked to me while we were planning this weekend together that now isn’t going to happen? I suppose if we meet electronically we may part the same way, but in a fit of childish pique I removed him last night from my phone, de-friended him on Facebook, blocked his email address and unlinked our profiles on the website we met through.
Take that Dr ‘Q’ pig-dog PhD! This morning I mostly just have to laugh at myself.
When I woke up, bad-tempered and hung-over, I did jump online to see if there was anything doing, but stopped myself hooking up with anyone as I dimly perceived that wouldn’t be a good idea right now. I’m much better now! Partly cheered up, I must say, by the fact I was contacted online by a man whose profile I had visited, and who asked me to get in touch. He appears to be a fitness fanatic, which might be just what I need! One door closes; another one opens?
He can’t have a letter just yet, though; because there’s only one left!
Unfortunately things have gone off the rails with ‘Q’. He did come to my little party, but after giving a lift to a couple of people who were leaving – instead of coming back - he just sent me a text ‘…I feel like a worm… I can’t see us fitting together… You’re a great guy, and now I have run off like a coward. I’m so very sorry to hurt you as you have shown me nothing but warmth and kindness.’ All true.
I was quite angry about it actually. OK, so he doesn’t want to see me again – it would have been nice if he’d had the balls to say it to my face, being that he was in the same room as me for several hours. Or perhaps talked to me while we were planning this weekend together that now isn’t going to happen? I suppose if we meet electronically we may part the same way, but in a fit of childish pique I removed him last night from my phone, de-friended him on Facebook, blocked his email address and unlinked our profiles on the website we met through.
Take that Dr ‘Q’ pig-dog PhD! This morning I mostly just have to laugh at myself.
When I woke up, bad-tempered and hung-over, I did jump online to see if there was anything doing, but stopped myself hooking up with anyone as I dimly perceived that wouldn’t be a good idea right now. I’m much better now! Partly cheered up, I must say, by the fact I was contacted online by a man whose profile I had visited, and who asked me to get in touch. He appears to be a fitness fanatic, which might be just what I need! One door closes; another one opens?
He can’t have a letter just yet, though; because there’s only one left!
Thursday, 15 May 2008
An end
I’ve been pondering what to do with myself with my new found freedom from work. The first thing of course is DIY; the bathroom’s had a lot of long overdue work already. Then of course a rigorous exercise and study regime; and the whole flat is going to get thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom.
Of course at the same time I suddenly get a lot of business; I have a couple of ‘big’ clients who retain me to provide financial advice to their clients and employees (one is an insurance company and the other is a construction company that is making quite a few people redundant at the moment) and I’m working with a couple of charities that are merging and need a new website, new systems, financial arrangements etc. It’s going to be tough to juggle for the foreseeable future. But, I like a challenge!
Writing of which… Harry called on Tuesday after we’d exchanged some emails and I explained I’d seen the doctor and what was wrong etc. I was surprised at his reaction – though I suspect I’ve put myself in this position, and only have myself to blame after keeping him hanging on.
He said he was not interested in discussing it or meeting me as arranged until I guaranteed that he and I would continue our relationship indefinitely.
After a moment or two of shocked silence I mumbled something about seeing how we go which seemed to satisfy him. But as the conversation continued I became quite cross, with myself and him, at this attempt at emotional blackmail and my reaction to it. So I made my final, final, almost final decision to end it when I saw him on Thursday.
So Thursday comes and we meet up in Piccadilly at 7:30. Unintended, I arrived very early, but took the opportunity to find a nice quiet place where we can sit and talk and I can get my total-bastard-moment out of the way.
Having never given notice of a break-up before I found it very difficult (the least one would expect, I would suggest). I explained how I was feeling and that I couldn’t really be a good boyfriend under those circumstances. I also explained I was unwell and that made quite a significant difference to the outlook for ‘us’. In return Harry, though a bit upset, explained he would prefer not to see me while I was ill but that he hoped when I was better I would look him up and we could try to hook up again.
I guess that worked out for both of us, then…
In medicine there is a condition that affects otherwise healthy babies called “failure to thrive” and I think this is what happened to us here. How odd when you consider all the wonder and joy I felt at the start.
I do feel like a real hick though. Booze… I must… have… booze.
Of course at the same time I suddenly get a lot of business; I have a couple of ‘big’ clients who retain me to provide financial advice to their clients and employees (one is an insurance company and the other is a construction company that is making quite a few people redundant at the moment) and I’m working with a couple of charities that are merging and need a new website, new systems, financial arrangements etc. It’s going to be tough to juggle for the foreseeable future. But, I like a challenge!
Writing of which… Harry called on Tuesday after we’d exchanged some emails and I explained I’d seen the doctor and what was wrong etc. I was surprised at his reaction – though I suspect I’ve put myself in this position, and only have myself to blame after keeping him hanging on.
He said he was not interested in discussing it or meeting me as arranged until I guaranteed that he and I would continue our relationship indefinitely.
After a moment or two of shocked silence I mumbled something about seeing how we go which seemed to satisfy him. But as the conversation continued I became quite cross, with myself and him, at this attempt at emotional blackmail and my reaction to it. So I made my final, final, almost final decision to end it when I saw him on Thursday.
So Thursday comes and we meet up in Piccadilly at 7:30. Unintended, I arrived very early, but took the opportunity to find a nice quiet place where we can sit and talk and I can get my total-bastard-moment out of the way.
Having never given notice of a break-up before I found it very difficult (the least one would expect, I would suggest). I explained how I was feeling and that I couldn’t really be a good boyfriend under those circumstances. I also explained I was unwell and that made quite a significant difference to the outlook for ‘us’. In return Harry, though a bit upset, explained he would prefer not to see me while I was ill but that he hoped when I was better I would look him up and we could try to hook up again.
I guess that worked out for both of us, then…
In medicine there is a condition that affects otherwise healthy babies called “failure to thrive” and I think this is what happened to us here. How odd when you consider all the wonder and joy I felt at the start.
I do feel like a real hick though. Booze… I must… have… booze.
Saturday, 22 March 2008
What must the neighbours think?
After coming out to my mother yesterday I wrote a long blog post and essentially settled down to an early evening with nothing in-front of me except surfing the net, emailing friends, listening to music… a quiet night in, possibly finishing that chardonnay.
And then I came across a clip on YouTube from some TV show I’ve never even watched (access it here) and for the first time it hit me; Darren’s left me. I’m on my own again.
I’m sure it’s partly the emotional release of having done one of the most difficult things anyone can ever do, but once I saw that clip I really began to cry. And not the discreet tears of a classy gay-guy (may be he's upset, maybe his Kylie tickets came through), but great sobs and wails of anguish that went on until about 6am. I mean, I just couldn’t stop. It’s not even that great a clip!
And then I came across a clip on YouTube from some TV show I’ve never even watched (access it here) and for the first time it hit me; Darren’s left me. I’m on my own again.
I’m sure it’s partly the emotional release of having done one of the most difficult things anyone can ever do, but once I saw that clip I really began to cry. And not the discreet tears of a classy gay-guy (may be he's upset, maybe his Kylie tickets came through), but great sobs and wails of anguish that went on until about 6am. I mean, I just couldn’t stop. It’s not even that great a clip!
There's a line in the song that goes with the clip about "when they carve my name in stone..." which is the bit that still gets me going, because I feel that next to my name on the gravestone (assuming I'm not first against the wall when the revolution comes) will just be a big blank space. Or maybe, if there's room, it could be carved "Mike: degrees in physics and economics; good career in the public sector; made his zillions in the private sector; could do this thing with a condom and his tongue he was pretty proud of; but no-one ever loved him."
Temporarily, at least, the prospect of dating other guys and the positive experience of coming out gave me a shield that allowed me to think I could deal with this in my own good time. But, no, heartbreak it seems has its own schedule.
I sat there thinking about how it’s taken more 15 years to get this far and all the stupid, stupid, stupid things I’ve done along the way and how I don’t want to go through it all again. And I cried about leaving it this long and how, if I’m not that attractive or fun to be around, I’m going to be pretty damn lonely. I spent so long behind a façade of not needing anyone, “I’m focussed on my career/business, friends, community”, it’s really difficult to be made to feel an idiot (a fat idiot if we want to be technically accurate). Basically, I didn’t realise it was going to be this hard and yet still find myself still on Square One.
So, gentle reader, as you might have guessed my confidence has taken a bit of a knock and while I thought I could get straight back on the horse, it ain’t necessarily so. I actually wonder if I should disappear somewhere for a little while, lick my wounds, and grow well enough to try again....
Stay tuned.
Wednesday, 19 March 2008
Dumped
Wednesday is date night, right? Thursdays too, often, but plans this week…
Anyway, Wednesday dawns. It's a nice day. The Appointed Hour of Fuzunjulation arrives and…
Nothing… Curious.
So, as one does, one enquires after the whereabouts of fine, fine, booty. Text one. No answer. Text two. No answer. Text three, four, five - and a couple of emails - no answer.
When Darren finally answers me we have a long and frank (voice) discussion about why he's not coming round. Apparently (and being new to this, who am I to argue?) being stood up is the nicest possible way of saying he thought he was over his past relationship but he wasn't. Essentially he’s used to being more in control, or dominant, in a relationship but he needs time to rebuild his confidence. My new-found confidence has shown him he wasn’t ready to be with someone, and he's bit scared about how I’ve changed into someone more relaxed and comfortable with who I am. And, to put it bluntly I'm not really his type.
Anyway, Wednesday dawns. It's a nice day. The Appointed Hour of Fuzunjulation arrives and…
Nothing… Curious.
So, as one does, one enquires after the whereabouts of fine, fine, booty. Text one. No answer. Text two. No answer. Text three, four, five - and a couple of emails - no answer.
When Darren finally answers me we have a long and frank (voice) discussion about why he's not coming round. Apparently (and being new to this, who am I to argue?) being stood up is the nicest possible way of saying he thought he was over his past relationship but he wasn't. Essentially he’s used to being more in control, or dominant, in a relationship but he needs time to rebuild his confidence. My new-found confidence has shown him he wasn’t ready to be with someone, and he's bit scared about how I’ve changed into someone more relaxed and comfortable with who I am. And, to put it bluntly I'm not really his type.
Or, to summarise, “I was hoping for some ripped love-slave to fuck my way over my ex, but that ain’t you [Lord knows he got that right] so I’m off, with the delusion that this really is the best thing for both of us”.
Or, even more succinctly, “Even though I’m a coward, I think I can do better”.
Perhaps I'm being harsh, though. He did say a lot of nice things about how great it was to be with someone who liked him so much, and he assured me he hadn't met someone else. On the other hand, though I don't think I could plausibly be expected to have deciphered that from being stood up.
At first I was just numb and spent hours staring into space. The next morning I had a good cry and discussed it with friends, who were (as always) totally supportive. I made it into work and went out for a couple of drinks after with colleagues who were bored to the point of chewing their legs off by my relationship woes.
Then, and this is prizewinning - it really is - on the way home a text. From him. An explicit text essentially suggesting he'd like to fuzunjulate his way back into my good books and we could go from there. A tentative texted 'yes', and more explicit texts follow - certainly enough to shock the elderly lady sitting next to me (whoops). And so at home I clean, shower, change, perfume and primp except again, again, again, again gentle reader I'VE BEEN STOOD UP.
So of course now I feel like an idiot and the bottle of champagne with a bandelero of condoms, which was such a romantic gesture at the time, just seems silly now.
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