I haven’t heard anything from J since Saturday. I’m sitting here at work, thinking that that’s probably it then. I don’t know what else to think. I’m really trying not to go into bereavement over this. I’d really love it if my week wasn’t ruined before it had even begun. I’ve tried telling myself it’s silly to get so down so soon, there’s got to be a valid reason why he’s not replying to my texts instantly any more. Maybe he’s been really busy. On Saturday he did talk quite a lot about a new business that he’s trying to set up. I gathered that this week was going to be an important week in that area, though I can’t remember why. Logical explanations aside, I can’t get him off my mind.
Christ, this is why I’ve been on the verge of giving up on relationships for the past two years! Because this happens. No amount of maturity or sobriety has ever stopped me from getting into this state when a man I like shows the remotest bit of interest in me. All pretence at sanity crumbles the minute I’m led to believe I have a chance with someone. It’s the reason why I like to spend most of my time staring at attractive, unobtainable, heterosexual men in the street, because they’re much safer.
I’ve spent the past hour or so seriously considering sending a text to him, asking how he is and when he thinks he might be free to meet again. That would be normal, right? It wouldn’t make me come across as a crazy stalker, would it? The trouble is I haven’t got the first clue what you’re supposed to do in these situations. No one’s ever told me. It may be my genuine and non-creepy intention to let J know that I’m interested in meeting him again, but how would I know I’m not bothering him? This could be a really bad time. Or he could be the type of person who prefers to do the chasing and arranging. It certainly seemed that way on Friday. I didn’t have to do anything, I was just given a date and time where I had to be.
I think what I’m really scared of is the possibility of this slightly crazy side of mine slipping out and becoming obvious. If I text him now and he doesn’t reply, I know I’ll become even more desperate to get some kind of response, and I’ll probably text him again after an hour, and again, and again. The need to know where I stand is all-consuming this morning. If he doesn’t notice it today then at some point in the future he’s bound to stumble across it, if by some miracle we do end up seeing each other again.
I’ve spent years working on it, and when I’m in these situations I do genuinely try not to scare men off. But here’s a question: is it really for me to hide a part of my personality, just to impress someone? If I’m looking to be loved and appreciated for who I really am, and not just as a facade, should I not just let it be what it is and see what happens? You hear romantic stories all the time on radio and TV about people who spent their lives believing no one could possibly love them, until they were proved wrong.
I try not to pay too much attention to the clichéd Hollywood romance school of thought any more, because I know it will bring me down, but still. It would be nice to think that the world isn’t full of people who really are only seeking perfection.
I’ve done it. I’ve sent him a text. I had to. I wrote exactly what I was planning to write earlier, something along the lines of: hi, how are you? When you’re free do you fancy meeting again?
I had to do it because I couldn’t bear to spend another minute fretting over it. Now it’s out there, let’s see what he says.
I have his answer. He’s busy with planning his new business this week, but he might be free at the weekend. He’ll let me know his schedule at some point before then. He looks forward to seeing me again.
Well, it wasn’t the worst response ever. I don’t know why but I wish it would have been a bit less vague. It’s nice to hear he wants to see me again, but if he wants to that much, wouldn’t he be setting a time now? I might have things to do this weekend, what if I need a more specific response now?
To be honest I was expecting something vague. I’ve been here before. Men who are too shy to give you a proper brush off will always be vague instead. If he hadn’t said “looking forward to seeing you again”, I’d already be convinced that that’s it for us.
As it is, the possibility remains that I will be seeing him at the weekend. God, I just wish he could have set a time and a place. For the rest of the week I’ll be waiting for his next message, telling me his schedule. It’ll get to Friday and I’ll be tearing my hair out not knowing.
I don’t want to put myself through this. I can’t put myself through it. I have to let go. Fuck it. If he texts me later in the weekend with a time and place, great. If he doesn’t, I’m not going to go chasing after him. I have more important things to be getting on with, I really do.
There’s always a chance that he’s going through the same thing as me, not wanting to seem too keen in case it puts me off. Whether that’s true or not, I can’t take this fluttering heart, these sweaty palms, this churning stomach, these wild thoughts.
What’s really fucking sad is that I know I’ll have to go through this again and again, if I am ever going to achieve that childhood dream of meeting someone who’s right for me. Before every first date I will have to face these wobbles, because it’s who I am. I can either accept that now and keep going, or I can give up sex and dating properly, and never put myself through it again.
It’s been so easy to ignore everything logical and imagine that I did things wrong on Saturday. I wasn’t attractive enough because of my bad skin; I wasn’t interesting enough because I didn’t mention all the cool 60’s rock music that I like. Everything has to be my fault because I didn’t plan it all to the minutest detail, and why isn’t he falling over to see me again like in the films?!
Truth is, he wasn’t the perfect date either. He went on about left wing politics and his plans to change the world for hours. He had a broken tooth that was hard not to look at whenever he talked. He admitted to being above his ideal weight and he talked about hating where he lives. You don’t get people saying those sorts of things on dates in the movies.
Oh, but I really wish I’d kissed him. I didn’t, and I have to live with that now.