What is it that attracts us to emotionally unavailable people?
Last week, Tuesday night perhaps, KT and I ran into E in the pub having drinks for a friends birthday. He and I snuck aside for a bit to have a "talk". I was aware this talk was coming, had thought extensively about what I wanted to saw, and was glad to run into him so we could get it out of the way. He said that he had been worried that he was taking advantage of me and giving a false impression about his situation, which is in fact thus - he is still in emotional turmoil from being dumped by the love of his life a month or two ago and was, in effect, still in love with her. I explained that I was fully aware of this situation and did not have any expectations on him. We did the whole "whatever happens, we should still be able to be friends" thing, which he qualified with that he hoped we could still have a cheeky snog now and then, I said he could stay over whenever. Typical - that night, having gotten everything out in the open, and gotten very drunks, went back to mine for a shag.
Now I'm back to vacillating between thinking this is a fine and fun situation, to thinking "what do I think I'm doing?" Certainly not in a bad way - just fleeting thoughts that don't particularly give me much bother, but I do wonder whether I'm setting myself up for failure so to speak.
The problem is that I can't seem to stop fancying him at the moment - is it the unavailability? or is it very simply him?
I think its a combination of the two.
Saturday, 19 May 2007
Sunday, 13 May 2007
crushing
KT and I went to a housewarming on the edge of the earth (NW10) to find that it was actually just watching Eurovision. KT spent the night on the phone to her BF and I spent mine texting with a mystery man, who it turned out I had snogged three weeks ago in the Hope and Anchor, then deleted his number in the morning, not realising that he had my number.
We left in time to get the last trains home, and on the way out the door I rang E to see if he wanted to meet in the pub in an hour. He was working to a deadline of today and was slightly worried, but said he could probably use a break. I was thrilled because I was wearing a very short dress, which is probably more accurately described as a long shirt - with leggings - a look I quite like. I was also wearing some of by best knickers and had shaved earlier.
It took us about an hour and a half to get there, after a wrangle with the trains and buses. By that time I was desperate for a drink and a fag. Plenty of lovely people arrives, but no sign of E. As last orders approached KT said "He's not coming" and I agreed.
As everyone dispersed, T and I were the last to leave the bar, which was noted by the bouncer as the norm and bid us farewell by saying "see you next weekend". A slightly disconcerting reputation.
I went home, whinged to KT about how I had hoped to get laid that night, gave E a comment on myspace, and listened to Bright Eyes until fell asleep on the couch for the second night in a row.
Although I have seen/slept with a number of people since soon-to-be-ex-husband and I split up, this is the first time I have actually liked someone and look forward to seeing them and get a bit nervous and gitty, which has me right freaked out about it. Its scary, but also exciting, and feels positive because it is at least forward movement and proves to me that I am not in fact emotionally crippled after the demise of my marriage (which had been weighing on my mind).
What is interesting is that my mother is going through a similar situation at the moment, except she does not really fancy the guy she has been dating, but she has been disrupted by the fact that a man has come into her life in a romantic sense for the first time in the ten years since my parents got divorced. She is scared and nervous and confused about whether she likes him and if not, whether it is just because she is too scared.
As I get older, I find it very endearing to realise emotoinal commonalities with my mother, though it is also at times slightly worrying.
We left in time to get the last trains home, and on the way out the door I rang E to see if he wanted to meet in the pub in an hour. He was working to a deadline of today and was slightly worried, but said he could probably use a break. I was thrilled because I was wearing a very short dress, which is probably more accurately described as a long shirt - with leggings - a look I quite like. I was also wearing some of by best knickers and had shaved earlier.
It took us about an hour and a half to get there, after a wrangle with the trains and buses. By that time I was desperate for a drink and a fag. Plenty of lovely people arrives, but no sign of E. As last orders approached KT said "He's not coming" and I agreed.
As everyone dispersed, T and I were the last to leave the bar, which was noted by the bouncer as the norm and bid us farewell by saying "see you next weekend". A slightly disconcerting reputation.
I went home, whinged to KT about how I had hoped to get laid that night, gave E a comment on myspace, and listened to Bright Eyes until fell asleep on the couch for the second night in a row.
Although I have seen/slept with a number of people since soon-to-be-ex-husband and I split up, this is the first time I have actually liked someone and look forward to seeing them and get a bit nervous and gitty, which has me right freaked out about it. Its scary, but also exciting, and feels positive because it is at least forward movement and proves to me that I am not in fact emotionally crippled after the demise of my marriage (which had been weighing on my mind).
What is interesting is that my mother is going through a similar situation at the moment, except she does not really fancy the guy she has been dating, but she has been disrupted by the fact that a man has come into her life in a romantic sense for the first time in the ten years since my parents got divorced. She is scared and nervous and confused about whether she likes him and if not, whether it is just because she is too scared.
As I get older, I find it very endearing to realise emotoinal commonalities with my mother, though it is also at times slightly worrying.
Friday, 11 May 2007
sickie
I met KT at our local last night, having done the usual "why don't you call the lads?" She tried and didn't get an answer - during the course of our first drink whilst she was in the toilet, I sneakily tried them again, and got E but promptly a drunken G also got on the phone and said they were on their way to the pub. Hooray!
They joined us, along with one of their friends, and then the whole of our local friend group turned up. We stayed in the pub long past closing, after I made a deal with the landlord to let us stay if we bought a bottle of wine instead of glasses. Unfortunately, KT was drunken at this point, so it came mostly to me to finish the last bottle. We then stumbled to E & G's flat, where we had a final beverage, before E and I went upstairs. Hands and mouths groping, kissing, succking, but he hadn't a clue where in his mess of a room he might find a condom. That was fine with me because I was by then exceedingly drunk.
We woke up at about 8:30 and I hemmed and hawed about whether to say I would be late to work or to throw a sickie. Eventually I decided on the later, and whilst on the phone in the hallway only wearing a towel, I saw KT and had to contain my laughter when on the phone to work. She tisked me for calling out of work, I pointed and mouthed "what are you doing here?" I got off the phone, we had a giggle in the hallway, she went home and I got back into bed with E, who had advised his work he would be in late due to "bike problems", i.e. laying naked in bed having a pash and a cuddle.
Feeling guilty, I eventually urged him out of bed and got dressed. We had a hug and a kiss goodbye and he cycled off to work, and I met KT for breakfast and gossip swap.
I think I shall be spending the day lounging around the flat, listening to records, and smiling at the lingering man-smell on my skin.
They joined us, along with one of their friends, and then the whole of our local friend group turned up. We stayed in the pub long past closing, after I made a deal with the landlord to let us stay if we bought a bottle of wine instead of glasses. Unfortunately, KT was drunken at this point, so it came mostly to me to finish the last bottle. We then stumbled to E & G's flat, where we had a final beverage, before E and I went upstairs. Hands and mouths groping, kissing, succking, but he hadn't a clue where in his mess of a room he might find a condom. That was fine with me because I was by then exceedingly drunk.
We woke up at about 8:30 and I hemmed and hawed about whether to say I would be late to work or to throw a sickie. Eventually I decided on the later, and whilst on the phone in the hallway only wearing a towel, I saw KT and had to contain my laughter when on the phone to work. She tisked me for calling out of work, I pointed and mouthed "what are you doing here?" I got off the phone, we had a giggle in the hallway, she went home and I got back into bed with E, who had advised his work he would be in late due to "bike problems", i.e. laying naked in bed having a pash and a cuddle.
Feeling guilty, I eventually urged him out of bed and got dressed. We had a hug and a kiss goodbye and he cycled off to work, and I met KT for breakfast and gossip swap.
I think I shall be spending the day lounging around the flat, listening to records, and smiling at the lingering man-smell on my skin.
Thursday, 10 May 2007
Another shot in the foot
Saturday night found me in my local as usual. Dancing to a funky bank with good company, tossing back the red wine and then later Duvell. I stood at the bar waiting to order another round when an incredibly cute guy came up to me and said enthusiastically "Hi! How have you been?" I responded with an equally enthusiastic "I've been great, but do I know you?" He laughed and looked a bit confused, so I persisted "Really, who are you?" "Umm, we had a snog on M--- Road..."
Oh shit! This was Andy, from Easter bank holiday, a lovely snog in a hammock, who said he was sort of seeing someone and I didn't get his number! Gee, that was embarrassing - so I apologised profusely, though I don't think he was very impressed.
I did remember his name, but he had forgotten mine - so I tried to play it off that we were even. "Um, no, I forgot your name, but you forgot my face." I tried to make amends, not sure how far I got. T came over and on that night a few weeks ago they had a good chat about comics and whatnot, so T asked him for his number. I pipped up with "Ooohh, me too, me too!"
So at long last, I saw him again, though certainly did not impress him. I did get his number, sent him a friendly text apologising again, but did not receive any response. Oh well, I think I'm going to have to let it all go.
Oh shit! This was Andy, from Easter bank holiday, a lovely snog in a hammock, who said he was sort of seeing someone and I didn't get his number! Gee, that was embarrassing - so I apologised profusely, though I don't think he was very impressed.
I did remember his name, but he had forgotten mine - so I tried to play it off that we were even. "Um, no, I forgot your name, but you forgot my face." I tried to make amends, not sure how far I got. T came over and on that night a few weeks ago they had a good chat about comics and whatnot, so T asked him for his number. I pipped up with "Ooohh, me too, me too!"
So at long last, I saw him again, though certainly did not impress him. I did get his number, sent him a friendly text apologising again, but did not receive any response. Oh well, I think I'm going to have to let it all go.
Tuesday, 8 May 2007
Obsession
A few weeks ago we met some chaps in our local - absolutely charmingly geeky and clever English guys. The pub was packed and we asked to share their table, and struck up a conversation because I recognised them as the winning team in the pub quiz from earlier in the week. Drunken antics ensued and one of the three who was visiting from abroad, was trying to set me up with G, and to this end tried to convince us that his father was the seventh richest man in England. A bit pathetic really, but the two were finding it hilarious, much to the embarrassment of G. The night carried on and we all ended up back at our flat. Before long, KT was sick, with G and I looking after her. Eventually the night ended innocently, though very drunken - everyone went their own ways. I got E & G's home number - they are both in their early thirties and don't have mobiles.
Since then, KT and I have been desperate to hang out with E & G - to the point where I worry that we are stalking them. A typical conversation:
KT "Should we call E & G?"
Me "Yes, but you should call them."
KT "Why me?!"
Me "Because I can't call anymore - I got told off by their flatmate for calling after 1am."
KT "But I called them last time, it's your turn."
Me "Maybe T will call for us!!"
T "Keep me out of your love triangles!"
Me "Ok, let's not call them tonight."
(Fast forward two glasses of wine.)
KT "Let me borrow your phone and I'll step outside to call them."
(Re-enter KT)
KT "No answer, so I hung up and didn't leave a message."
Me "Maybe that means they are on their way to the pub?"
And so on... all bank holiday weekend.
E and I struck up a little thing, with him having spent the night twice. Let me be clear - we haven't had sex, just a snog and cuddle and sleep. After my last casual sex encounter (which has not yet been detailed in these pages) I decided that I needed a break from casual sex - the sort of was getting was extremely unfulfilling and left me entirely uninterested in the men. I have therefore decided to hold back a bit and see what happens. E, however, is on the rebound, so I must remind myself to tread carefully.
Meanwhile, G has been hitting on KT after he has had one too many whiskeys, bearing in mind that she has a boyfriend.
It has all become a bit of a strange - two flats on a double date scenario, but mostly a bit pathetic because we have become obsessed with hanging out with them because they are some of the most genuinely nice and easy to get along with people we know in the area, or indeed London.
Since then, KT and I have been desperate to hang out with E & G - to the point where I worry that we are stalking them. A typical conversation:
KT "Should we call E & G?"
Me "Yes, but you should call them."
KT "Why me?!"
Me "Because I can't call anymore - I got told off by their flatmate for calling after 1am."
KT "But I called them last time, it's your turn."
Me "Maybe T will call for us!!"
T "Keep me out of your love triangles!"
Me "Ok, let's not call them tonight."
(Fast forward two glasses of wine.)
KT "Let me borrow your phone and I'll step outside to call them."
(Re-enter KT)
KT "No answer, so I hung up and didn't leave a message."
Me "Maybe that means they are on their way to the pub?"
And so on... all bank holiday weekend.
E and I struck up a little thing, with him having spent the night twice. Let me be clear - we haven't had sex, just a snog and cuddle and sleep. After my last casual sex encounter (which has not yet been detailed in these pages) I decided that I needed a break from casual sex - the sort of was getting was extremely unfulfilling and left me entirely uninterested in the men. I have therefore decided to hold back a bit and see what happens. E, however, is on the rebound, so I must remind myself to tread carefully.
Meanwhile, G has been hitting on KT after he has had one too many whiskeys, bearing in mind that she has a boyfriend.
It has all become a bit of a strange - two flats on a double date scenario, but mostly a bit pathetic because we have become obsessed with hanging out with them because they are some of the most genuinely nice and easy to get along with people we know in the area, or indeed London.
Tuesday, 1 May 2007
Anniversary
1 May.
It seemed like a good idea come up with young, communist lovers - get married on May Day. So we did - 3 years ago.
Now it is an impossible date to forget, and unfortunately, none of the memories are good. The wedding day was fine, but that night we all got drunk, my brother and father almost ended up in a punch-up, my new husband and I almost ended up in a punch-up. Instead we had a screaming row when we got home and I slept on the couch. We woke up in the morning trying to pretend it didn't happen and putting it down to too much booze.
Our family time together with his mother and grand-dad and my mother and brother was slightly downed by not only the hangovers, but also the fact that we learned that his brother had tried to commit suicide the night before and was now admitted to the psychiatric ward of the Doncaster Royal Infirmary. They were trying to keep it secret from his grand-dad. Nonetheless, in attempt to act normal, we had a pub lunch, walked along the Thames, and went to the London Dungeon (which was not as good as the York Dungeon I might add).
That was 1 & 2 May three years ago.
Two years ago our anniversary was only a few weeks after the first time he took coke, blacked out, and we did end up in a knock down, drag out fight. It was the first time he had ever hit me. He broke the door off the washing machine, and said the most awful and abusive things to me. I left the flat and wandered around Archway at 3am trying to find an open cafe that I could stay in. Eventually I went home and he was passed out. I slept on the couch and left before he woke up. He didn't remember a thing in the morning.
I slipped into a deep depression, crying at random, but unable to tell my family what happened. We took a weekend away for our anniversary to try to release the stress. On 30 April we had another awful fight, no violence this time, but shouting about breaking up. Again, alcohol fueled. In the morning, our first anniversary, he tried to pretend it didn't happen, or what happened didn't mean anything. I couldn't and was miserable and teary all day and until our return to London.
By our second anniversary, we had split up and I was living elsewhere.
Now its number three and we have been split up for a year and a half. I worry (a bit pathetically) that I won't be able to have a meaningful relationship again. I worry that I won't be able to trust another person or indeed myself in a relationship. Then again, I know this is foolish, as I am only 25.
It seemed like a good idea come up with young, communist lovers - get married on May Day. So we did - 3 years ago.
Now it is an impossible date to forget, and unfortunately, none of the memories are good. The wedding day was fine, but that night we all got drunk, my brother and father almost ended up in a punch-up, my new husband and I almost ended up in a punch-up. Instead we had a screaming row when we got home and I slept on the couch. We woke up in the morning trying to pretend it didn't happen and putting it down to too much booze.
Our family time together with his mother and grand-dad and my mother and brother was slightly downed by not only the hangovers, but also the fact that we learned that his brother had tried to commit suicide the night before and was now admitted to the psychiatric ward of the Doncaster Royal Infirmary. They were trying to keep it secret from his grand-dad. Nonetheless, in attempt to act normal, we had a pub lunch, walked along the Thames, and went to the London Dungeon (which was not as good as the York Dungeon I might add).
That was 1 & 2 May three years ago.
Two years ago our anniversary was only a few weeks after the first time he took coke, blacked out, and we did end up in a knock down, drag out fight. It was the first time he had ever hit me. He broke the door off the washing machine, and said the most awful and abusive things to me. I left the flat and wandered around Archway at 3am trying to find an open cafe that I could stay in. Eventually I went home and he was passed out. I slept on the couch and left before he woke up. He didn't remember a thing in the morning.
I slipped into a deep depression, crying at random, but unable to tell my family what happened. We took a weekend away for our anniversary to try to release the stress. On 30 April we had another awful fight, no violence this time, but shouting about breaking up. Again, alcohol fueled. In the morning, our first anniversary, he tried to pretend it didn't happen, or what happened didn't mean anything. I couldn't and was miserable and teary all day and until our return to London.
By our second anniversary, we had split up and I was living elsewhere.
Now its number three and we have been split up for a year and a half. I worry (a bit pathetically) that I won't be able to have a meaningful relationship again. I worry that I won't be able to trust another person or indeed myself in a relationship. Then again, I know this is foolish, as I am only 25.
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