Lovin's for fools

I asked the ether, fate, the air, luck, anything that would listen, for a man to keep me company. “All I want,” I told the wall, “is man taller than me. Dark hair, dark eyes, a sense of humour, good taste in music and must like a drink. Well a few drinks. I just want a heavy drinker really.” And fate gave me Richard. He was EXACTLY all of those things. And his name doesn’t rhyme with anything. Perfect.
So we met in a dark dingy bar. I was wearing a ginger beard, you were dressed as a sailor. We had fun. We had vodka. We had Jagermeister. We had champagne. We had absinthe. I had a hangover. And we remade Jaws. Aaaaarrrrr shark! But I wasn’t sure if you liked me. I gave you a peck on the cheek and got nothing back.
So we both like vodka. How about we go to a vodka bar? A vodka bar made of ice. The bar was made of ice, the tables are made of ice, the chairs are made of ice, the glasses are made of ice. Its all ice. Except the vodka. So Richard and an over-zealous barman poured another 8-9 shots down my throat. Its time to leave. I’m a bit fuzzy. We have conversation. I’m not sure what about but it ends up with a lot of kissing. And very nice kissing too.
Date three: not really a date as we had both already arranged to go to the same festival weeks ago with our friends. I get there (late of course) and he’s wasted. Hmph. Pretty soon I’m wasted too and we have the best time ever. It rains so of course we snuggle up together. He kisses me again. Its so lovely. We agree all the shit bands are shit and all the good bands are in fact amazing. He has a perfect taste in music. He has beautiful eyes that always look a little bit sad. But he always smiles at me.
Date four: an acoustic night. I am almost on time. Richard looks ill. Is he ill? Or just unhappy I don’t know. We see an acoustic singer with an aocustic guitar and groan to ourselves slightly. Initially; it turns out he stopped my heart beating. “Go on love her, love her forever. I won’t tell her I told you to… lovin’s for fools, lovin’s for fools.” I wish those words were about me. I look at Richard and I notice he has melted too. Those sad eyes are weeping, but I doubt its for me. Not the most exicting date in the world. Emotive.
A week later: I get us free tickets to a television recording of a comedy show. We’re restricted to free nights out now cos we’re both so poor. And sober. After weeks of heavy drinking we both need to give our livers a rest. I was late, of course. We only just make it into the studio on time. Richard is trying not to show it but I can see he’s a bit annoyed. At the end of the night he asks “so did we have fun sober?” why yes. We did. “see? That’s another thing I’ve got going for me.” Ahhhh so you are trying to impress me. I like.
Next time: feels like I’m moving more into girlfriend territory. It’s the most uninspiring date going. We’re both skint and we’re both house hunting. I’m invited to sit in a pub in Bethnal Green waiting for Richard to look at house. The twist is we’ve both decided to have a sober night. It only takes him fifteen minutes, which was a blessed relief. But in that time I’ve had a pint of Guinness. I feel like I’ve been let into his real life now. House hunting, sobreity, talking about work. He tells me about the death of his father. And his ex. Actually he talks about her a lot. We head to Brick Lane and sit on the pavement with cans of cider and he puts his arm round me and its all just perfect.
I promised to cook for Richard. We’ve never really eaten together. Well, we never really eat. Just drink. So I go to a whole world of effort to make sushi and bake cakes. This is the first time he’s been to my house. This is the first time he’ll stay over. Fingers crossed. This is the first chance I really have to ask him if we can move this on. I want to be more than just your date. I want to be your girlfriend. Except… I have noticed you talk about yourself. You talk about your ex. You talk about your family arguments and you’ve only ever asked me “want a drink?” That is a bloody good question, ask it any time. Well, I’m excited. We meet at the train station. No kiss hello today. I’m worried about the rice. Richard wants to drink in the sun while it still shines. I just want to talk to him. In the park he talks about his ex, a fight with his brother and the loss of his dad. I know why your eyes are sad but I don’t want to. I pretend they’re not. You make hurtful quips and you don’t even realise they hurt. I have nothing to say. I can’t think of anything that won’t betray my hurt.
Back at mine you ask if I’ve stopped sulking. Sulking? You’re insensitive. I can’t say that. I don’t want you to walk away. I just like you so much. So much more than you like me. An uneven yoke will never plough a straight line. I know this, but I don’t want to. Those big round eyes bore into me as you make another hurtful quip. “Do you like anything about me?” I ask. I had to. This isn’t the night I planned. I see you visibly shrink and quietly say “yeah, I like you”. I start wittering. “I need some reassurance you fancy me even a little bit”, “I want to move this on” “I just want to know if you feel the same.” You’re so defensive. Am I that unfair? Is it wrong to ask? You give nothing back. “Isn’t it too early for all this?” you say. Yes, it is. I’m not ready to settle down and see you every day and let you rule my life. But I don’t like the way every time I see you I fear its going to be the last. Of course I can’t say this. I can’t say anything. I don’t know what I’m saying but every time I open my mouth it’s the wrong thing. I’m such a bad therapist. I work in communication and I still can’t say the right things. I thought we had kissed and made up. We defintiely kissed. A lot. Kissing is easier than talking. But on the doorstep I ask “will I see you over the weekend?” “I dunno,” you say because ‘no’ is too difficult. Its fine I understand. “Its too much pressure. I don’t know what I want”. That means you do, you just don’t know if you should say it.
That’s it. I got what I asked for. I got my perfect man and I fucked it up and I don’t even know how. He didn’t speak to me for days. In the end I had to ask. Again. I wrote what I thought had happened. I wrote I pushed him and I didn’t mean to, I just wanted clarity. We don’t have to change the way things are as long as I know they are still there. He wrote back. His last girlfriend was bipolar and I am exactly the same. I am insecure and irrational, and what? Needy? Too much too soon? Well, Richard, I am sorry your dad died. I’m sorry your ex-girlfriend was too difficult for you. I’m sorry you feel you wasted your life with her. You didn’t. And I’m not her. I’m not irrational or insecure. I knew you didn’t want me, not how I wanted you. I’m sorry this is too soon for you. Not that I am pushing you. You’re just not ready. I cannot be your stepping stone to hover on until your life begins again. I’m not a magic sponge to suck up all your pain at half time. I’m just a person. A normal person, not a bipolar person, a normal person who wanted to be loved. All of this is fine. We were unevenly yoked, it cannot be. I have moved on.

Fear of Falling

“I just like you too much”. That’s probably the worst reason I’ve ever been given when a boy has broken up with me. What does it even mean? Surely the point is to like someone, yeah?Its right up there with “you’re just too cool for me” pffff. Yeah. I am so intimidatingly brilliant. Its obviously so cool to knit, bake and stroke cats. My 70 year old neighbour is just way rocking. Hmph.
Well, now I know exactly what “I like you too much” means. I like you way more than you like me. I like you so much it hurts a little bit. Every time I see you I have to catch my breath. I think about you all the time. I replay all the thing we’ve done together, and imagine all the things we might do in the future. I have imaginary conversations with you. I had a dream about you. It was a slightly weird dream where you came to my knitting circle (just me, you and a friend staying in my house) and you knit me a pink crochet bikini but then refused to hand it over. Instead you wanted to give it to the topless models doing the phot shoot up the road. When I woke up I felt betrayed. I like you so much I never know what to say. I re-read your text messages hundreds of times. I can think of five or six ways to interpret each one and then I can’t decide what was intended. I text you and wait patiently for an hour. I wait a bit longer telling myself you’re busy. I wait longer, cos I know you’re busy. Two hours in I wonder if you got the message. Two and half hours in I think maybe I did something wrong, re-read what I wrote and think about clarifying it. Three hours later, having not sent a second message, I am covninced you don’t want to see me again and are pondering how to say so. Three and half hours late I get a message that starts “I’m sorry.” That’s it. You don’t want me anymore. I read on. “I’m sorry, I can’t make Tuesday” Oh! Phew. I like you so much I have these panic attacks every day. I like you so much I can’t quite cope. I know you don’t feel like this. I know you probably never will. Is it worth me waiting to see? I decide the only thing I can do is tell you.
“I really like being with you. I want to keep seeing you. But I don’t know what you want because you never say anything.”
“don’t you think it’s a bit early for all this?”
“erm yes. But this is what I feel. I just want to know what you think. I want you to be honest, you don’t’ have to pretend anything”
“when have I not been honest?”
“erm well how can I ever now? But that’s not it. I just wondered if you liked me at all”
“yeah I like you. I did. I’m not sure anymore. This is a bit weird. Its way too much pressure”
“right. I’m not asking you for anything”
“…”
There you go. I like you just too much. And now you don’t like me at all.

I mean, I don't really hate you

Patronising me is no way to win an argument. Relating every point to you is not going help. Its not about YOU I couldn’t give a shit about You. in fact, I almost hate YOU. Almost. If I did hate I would point out in a week or two you will get your exam results. Confirmation of failure will be fun to celebrate, won’t it? What are your life plans now? No, I know you don’t have a job. Are you parents still disowning you? I mean that must be tough not having anywhere to live when you finally flunk out of halls. Or a job. Yeah, good for you not needing to work while you erm neglected to study, but no job? At all? Not even a Saturday job to contribute towards the rent. Well I say rent, you need a house first don’t you? Still you have your rich mummy and daddy to fall back on… oh yeah, right, short memory, sorry. So erm what about your friends? You could sofa-surf for a bit, couldn’t you? Actually, where are your friends? I don’t think I’ve seen you hanging out with anyone in quite while. What about your boyfriend? I can’t imagine why he dumped you. I know he said “it just didn’t feel right” but did you really buy that? I mean that’s just what boys say when they can’t be bothered to give you the real reason, like they met someon else, cos it might start a fight. And boy do you like a fight! Not that that’s a bad thing. Necessarily. Obviously, sometimes people just want peace and quiet without uncalled for judgmenetal comments, misinterpreting everything, wild assumption making and your generally self centred, self obsessed view on life. But that’s just YOU, right? And if really hated you, I would let you know.