Tag Archives: missing out

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.