Tag Archives: boyfriend

Home again alone again

21 Mar




I just got home from Paris.

To my lovely, warm, tidy flat. My empty flat.

I’m exhausted. The start of the week was busy. Yesterday I was on the go from 7am. When we got to Paris it was a quick turnaround then on to our Paris office to do pitch run throughs. We ate out with our French colleague. Ohhhh the French eat late. And up early today to practice. The pitch ran two hours late. It went well. We drank wine. We ate cheese. Train home. (With no wifi – sort it out, Eurostar.) Phew.

I decided to be lazy and get a taxi from the station rather than face the tube, overland train and ten-minute walk back to my flat. And in the taxi, as I was wiping away sleep from my eyes and trying to find my wallet in my bag and remember where I live, I couldn’t help but feel it would be nice to come home to someone.

How perfect it would be to walk through the door to a cuddle. And someone to tell about my trip. And maybe some peanutbutter and jam on toast. Mmm peanutbutter.

You know what? This is the whole deal with my life right now: it’s good. I have a great career. I have my own flat. My friends are fabulous cats. Family are nuts but I love them. And I am grateful, believe me.  I know how incredibly lucky I am. But I feel so sad that I have nobody to share this life with.

Equally, when I’m away and all my colleagues grab ten minutes to Skype their other halves, I feel like I’m missing something.

I guess I just need to hope that some lucky hot piece of ass out there is missing me.

Even though he hasn’t met me yet.

He’s just not him

17 Feb

Obviously yesterday I was thinking about my ex. Hence the post dedicated to him. Hence crying. Hence going to bed early and tossing and turning until I took a sleeping tablet.

It’s been a while since that happened.

And I don’t think it’s unrelated to Irish Two.

Irish Two and I had a lovely meal at this fancy restaurant he had booked on Saturday night. I arrived looking as hot as I possibly good. Straight hair, tight dress, red lips, even heels. My feet hate heels. He didn’t greet me by telling me I looked nice, of course. He greeted me with news from his day on a comedy writing course. Hmph.

At some point during dinner he did tell me that I looked nice. At some point he held my hand.

When the bill arrived, we played ‘guess how much money we spent’. I was horrified to hear the result. I reached into my purse for my Amex and – thankfully – Irish Two said he would pay and that I could pay next week. I like this system. Each week one of us plans the date and then pays for it. This works for me. I can keep things within budget if I want to.

We went back to his and had some good sex.

(I then developed a really sore stomach and lay in bed terrified that I was going to vomit. As he shares a house with three other guys and there are three flights of stairs between his room and the bathroom, this was a very distressing situation.)

In the morning we went for breakfast.

I just don’t feel like he cares about me. I’m someone for him to hang out with on Saturdays. Someone for him to have sex with.

I feel like I need to raise the subject. Not to ask him to be my boyfriend – I don’t want that right now. But just to ask how he sees me, what he feels about me.

It’s hard because, of course, I compare things. With my ex I felt so loved, so cherished, so wanted, so cosy. And yet – surprise surprise – he never meant any of it. With Irish Two I don’t feel any of those things. Really, which is the preferable situation?

I talked to my Mum about my date last night. Of course, leaving out the sexual details. I told her that I like Irish Two, that we have loads to talk about, that I fancy him, that he’s fun.

She asked, “But?”

“But he’s not [ex’s name went here].”

Emotional baggage

8 Feb

After Christmas I mentioned that I’d been talking to a new Irish guy on the eHarmony. Well, we actually went on our first date on the 12th of January.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous before a first date. Or spent more time straightening my hair. The date was…meh.

Irish was doing ‘dry January’ and off alcohol for the month. Now, I’m not a girl who can hold her alcohol too well, so I’m all for having fun without a Negroni in my paw. But, a first date. It wasn’t the smoothest.

However, we clearly liked each other.

We had two more sober dates before he went snowboarding for a few days and I got sick with tonsillitis. And a few things were starting to bother me, aside from the sobriety. He’s a noisy eater. He didn’t really show me any affection. And he never offered to pay for me. I’m absolutely a ‘split the bill’ kind of girl, but I wanted him to want to pay for me. Or at least tell me that I look nice.

I couldn’t work it out. He called me from Austria when he was snowboarding. He emails and texts me all the time. When I had tonsillitis he offered to bring me fro yo. And at the end of every date – fabulous snogging. But no sweetness. No compliments.

So, last Saturday night he came over to hang out with me. I was still exhausted from being ill, so I made us a pizza (yes – pizza – can’t get enough of it these days), we drank some Aperol and watched rubbish on TV. We started kissing, ended up in my bedroom, and we did not have sex but things did go further. Suddenly I felt terrible. I just wanted him to go home. Which he did. And I cried. Lots.

On Wednesday night I saw my counsellor and we kind of agreed that while he might be a nice fling to have, this dude was just not connecting with me emotionally.

I was in his neighbourhood to see my counsellor anyway, so we met up for dinner (and split the bill). Afterwards we went for a drink and – low and behold – Irish turned to me and said, “I don’t feel like we’re really connecting.”

We talked about things. He told me about some of his ex relationships, and how he was brought up not to discuss his feelings. He told me he doesn’t want to go through life like that. I told him about the ex, and said it upset me that he never even tells me that I look nice. Suddenly it was easy to be a little more touchy feely with each another. The whole time I was so hung up on him not showing me affection, but I wasn’t showing him any either.

He said something very interesting. That when people are our age (he’s a year older than me), we all have emotional baggage. I thought about it, and sure enough all of my single friends have scars of the heart. But, as Irish says, we need to be honest about stuff or we’ll never connect.

We’re going to the cinema tonight, then for dinner and cocktails. And tomorrow morning, we’re going for pancakes.