Archive | October, 2013

Words of wisdom

23 Oct

I’ve stopped even looking at my online dating profile. There’s no point. I only want him. And, more importantly, I need to put me first. I don’t want to sound pathetic, but I think I’m too vulnerable right now. Too easily hurt. I still think about him all the time. I’ve been someone’s rebound before. I never want to do that to a person.

So I’m making peace with the idea that I’m going to be on my own. The question is, how long will I be on my own? I want time to myself. I want to feel OK by myself. But I don’t want to be on my own forever, and more and more I fear that is what will happen. As I’ve mentioned before, my flat is too small for a cat. This is a problem. Am I likely to ever meet anyone else, though? It took me so long to find him, and I have never felt that way about anyone else.

I want to share the wise words of my friend Kate on this point. She sent me this email a few days ago.

So, I don’t think you’re going to have a boyfriend again, yet. I think it’s too soon and remember how long it took you to be interested in boys again after the disaster that was ___. It’s going to take time before you get back on the, um, pony. But I do think it will happen again for you. I also think that, you know, this has without doubt been the hardest break up ever. So different from everything else. Monumental. It’s kind of kicked all those other sh*t head boyfriends into touch. And I almost feel that maybe it happened for a reason. This kind of emotive force is a game changer. The other relationships were painful, sad, painful, sad but they didn’t knock you to the floor like this. When you come out the other side, you will be different. Not that you need to be different, I just mean that it will change you. And maybe you had to do this to hit rock bottom with the boys so that you can come out the other side stronger and in a better place. I’m not sure that I am articulating this properly. But I feel that the whole adage about hitting rock bottom before you get up is going round my head. This is your rock bottom and from that point, the future is often brighter.

Kate was the one I called immediately after the pizza of doom. Kate came over and stayed the night with me, and has been on-hand ever since with advice and amazingness.

She’s a good egg. And a very smart one.

Feeling unlucky

22 Oct

I met an old friend to try a new burger place tonight. We hadn’t seen each other since my 30th birthday party. Which was only 18 months ago, but – wow – a lot has happened for us both in that time.

The night got off to a great start when I was IDd in the pub. Seriously? I look 18? Sure, if you insist.

The burgers were delicious and the chat was great. This particular friend and I were very close in our mid twenties. We lived together in New York for three months. He’s always been able to make me laugh so hard I nearly pee my pants. And he’s seen me date some very unsuitable men over the years. Although we have drifted recently, he still knows me really well.

Of course I updated him on everything, and told him the tale of the pizza of doom. I guess, although I’ve come a long way since my mid twenties, talking with him made me realise that the things I really want out of life haven’t changed much at all.

I’ve never been lucky in love.

But I feel particularly unlucky that, just for a while, I had everything I ever wanted.

Massage Mondays

21 Oct

I have a problem with Mondays.

I know that most people are not ecstatic when Monday rolls around, but when you feel pretty low every day (I’ve spent Friday evenings in tears since the pizza of doom) Monday becomes something really quite horrific. A few weeks ago I realised this was a problem that needed tackled, and today I think I’ve finally hit upon the perfect formula.

This morning got off to a rough start. I struggled to get up. I needed at least ten hours’ more sleep. I left my flat without my umbrella just as the heavens opened to drench me in cat and dog raindrops. I very nearly walked directly into a huge and hideous spider on my way to the bus stop. And then the bus took ten minutes to show up. Not cool.

But as I turned the corner to my office, things looked up. Low and behold, a van giving away free cups of coffee. The good stuff. Monmouth coffee. Somebody somewhere wanted me to have a great day.

Armed with this glimmer of hope, I decided to turn this Monday around.

I went on an admin binge and sorted all my emails. I enjoyed a second coffee. At lunch I ate delicious sushi. And after work I took a stroll to my favourite massage place and treated myself to an hour-long relaxation session. During which I fell asleep. Twice.

To top it off I ate cheesecake for dinner.

Apparently the free coffee van was a one off. But from now on, Monday is officially Massage and Cheesecake Day.

All the lonely people

20 Oct

I spent the past five hours on the train from Edinburgh to London. Wedding Boy texted just as I was getting on the train. Not sure what is going on there, but – due to the location difference – it has no choice but to be a slow burner either way. Which is probably good for me right now. I’ve stopped looking at my online dating profile. I miss my ex too much.

Anyway, five hours on the train, and I spent the entire journey watching season two of Ally McBeal. I have a much, much deeper appreciation for it these days. When I loved this show as a 16 year old, my only personal experience of heartbreak was dealing with the fact Leonardo DiCaprio and I were unlikely to ever get together. Now, well, it all makes so much sense.

Who knew this show is not about law at all?

It’s about loneliness.

In nearly every episode we see Ally walking home alone. Yes, she’s wearing great coats and wandering through Boston looking its most magical (I know, I know, it’s really a set in LA), but she’s alone.

The thing with loneliness is, it’s a feeling – not a state of being. I’m not isolated. I have fabulous friends in London and elsewhere. I work in a really sociable environment. I’m one of those weirdos who tends to talk to people in shops or strike up a conversation with the dude behind the till in the coffee shop.

But I am lonely.

In one episode John Cage says that loneliness means you don’t believe things are going to change. I’ve kind of been feeling that way recently. It took me 30 years to find someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I can’t imagine feeling that way again. And – if our relationship was so perfect (as he said), but he still didn’t want me – maybe I’m just not lovable in a romantic sense. Feels like there isn’t much working in my favour right now.

Wedding Boy is a nice distraction, yes. But he doesn’t take away the loneliness.

Something’s missing. He’s missing.

And every night I walk home alone.

Kindofsemisortof date with Wedding Boy

19 Oct

On the bus on my way back to my friend’s flat following afternoon cocktails with Wedding Boy.

He’s so sweet. What a lovely guy. I was thinking it would be really awkward, but we chatted away just fine. And he is good looking.

We walked up the road afterwards, he was heading in one direction and I was going the other way. Bit of an awkward goodbye! I think he went for a kiss. I went for a hug. Awkward collision.

I need to text him. But what to say?

I would totally snog his face.

Welcome home to me

17 Oct

I got back from Boston about an hour ago. Quick unpack. Quick repack, because I’m going to Edinburgh tomorrow night.

I’m looking forward to a weekend of relaxing with the kind of friends you can totally relax with, seeing my sister and my nephews, and a kindofsortofsemi date with Wedding Boy.

I’m also looking forward to not being in my flat.

I love my flat. When I bought it three years ago I was just beside myself with delight at having my own place. I remember when I first came to view it, and immediately texted my friends and said, “I just viewed the flat I’m going to marry!”.

I just don’t like being at home anymore.

Being in Boston, and living in a (very nice) hotel room, distanced me from the life I shared with him.

Also, I’ve always wanted to live in the US. I’ve worked there a couple of times (two months in Pennsylvania, three months in New York) and studied at the University of Texas for a year. My family went on holiday to Florida and Colorado every year when I was a kid, and my parents still spend three months of the year in Florida. It’s fair to say we all have a bit of a love affair with America.

I guess I’m thinking that maybe the pizza of doom happened so that I’m free to go where I want and do what I want.

I don’t know. I’m jet lagged and tired and my thoughts are very jumbled.

Everything in my flat reminds me of him, and nobody welcomed me home.

All I have to say tonight

17 Oct

Is that I’m in my hotel room, exhausted, with a massive slice of pumpkin pecan cheesecake for dinner.

He would have told me off for eating cheesecake for dinner.

Thanks to him, I’ve lost 16 lbs and feel just fine about a few extra calories. I got whipped cream on the side too.

Matched with my ex

15 Oct

I’m going to keep this short because I should really be working on my presentation for tomorrow. But, even in a beautiful city with a massive work project on, I’m thinking about him.

Here’s why: my ex and I met on eHarmony. I always said I would never join eHarmony because they market to desperados. But when I hit 30 I decided I might be one of those desperados and gave it a go. In three months I met three guys. The first two were lovely, but not for me. And then I met him. And fell madly in love.

About two months after the pizza of doom I rejoined eHarmony. I thought it would be a great distraction, and didn’t really plan on doing much dating, unless someone amazing came along. So far everyone who has messaged me has just annoyed me because they are not him. It’s that simple – none of the people I get matched with are him.

Until today. When eHarmony kindly matched me with…him.

Looks like he rejoined as well.

I redid my entire psychological profile (eHarmony thing) post pizza of doom. I figured the relationship would have changed me and, this way, if he was on there we would not necessarily match. But we did.

I feel gutted. I know he is pursuing a relationship. I know he will see me on there and feel OK with himself because he will assume I am moving on too.

But I’m not moving on. I miss him more than ever.

Somewhere over the Atlantic

15 Oct

I’m writing this from somewhere over the Atlantic. Which is kind of fitting, really, since that’s where my relationship fell apart. While he was in New York deciding that he had never been in love with me, I was in London falling even more deeply in love with him. And so, somewhere over the Atlantic, it broke.

I hardly slept last night (despite having some great new bed sheets with dogs on them). There’s something about visiting the US that makes me miss him even more.

It’s silly, because at home in London we live about a mile and a half apart. Yes, I think about him constantly. But why should it hit me even harder when I’m travelling 4,000 odd miles to a different country?

I’m thinking about last January when he had to go to New York for three days on business. I remember how happy we both were when he got home. How much he said he had missed me.

I’m thinking of the morning he left for the US back in May. How we said goodbye and then I climbed back into his bed for an hour and smelled his smell on his pillow. How secure I felt.

I’m thinking about his flight home, the day of the pizza of doom. Did he already know when he got on the plane that he was going to break up with me? Did he decide when he landed in London? Or was it something that happened somewhere over the Atlantic?

Surely I am running out of tears

13 Oct

Funny the things that can set you off in the heightened emotional state of a break up.

I’ve been very tired and very stressed with work for the past week. It seems to have made me take a massive two leaps backwards into painfulness.

Today, whilst shopping for a toothbrush, I had to walk into a corner and release a little screaming noise. This – I have learned from pilates – is something to do with stress release. It does also make me look like a mentalist, however.

Later, when I got home, I was searching for my electrical adaptor thingie to take to Boston tomorrow. Of course, the last time I had it was in New York. With him. Unable to locate it under my bed (where I keep most things), I completely broke down. I full-on lost it on my bedroom floor. I’m not even going to call it crying. That sounds too elegant. I was wailing. Unattractive.

I found the adaptor thingie about two hours later in the fruit bowl in my kitchen.

Which didn’t even strike me as odd.