You are currently browsing the monthly archive for March 2007.
This is a valid question, no? I mean, it’s not like there’s a lithmus test. Or is there? What is it in that case? What are you required to feel, what is required to exist in your relationship with someone, or, what should not be missing, etc? So peeps, let me know your views.
Ok maybe I am a whining s.o.b and maybe I over react sometimes. Perhaps I’m just passionate. Or simply inexperienced when it comes to relationships. Or all of the above. Forgive my rants.
la parisienne and I met, went for a long walk (she wanted to meet in a cafe first but I’d rather kill myself than talk relationship details in a public place) and talked. Honestly, it felt really good. I only asked of her two things: 1) that if she falls in love with someone she’ll tell me so I won’t have to hear it on the grapevine – I promised her to do the same, 2) that she respects the fact that she broke my heart and acts accordingly when we happen to meet out, since our social circles overlap significantly. Initially, she had some trouble understanding what I meant but when I explained she agreed that this wasn’t bad ideas.
So I told her about Barbie. Actually she recently received some info about this, which surprised me. I mean, the woman’s been back one week and is already into the gossip. And moreover, so am I. She’d heard about it from a mutual friend of ours, and a colleague of Barbie’s, who had seen the two of us together one day. Well what can you do? Someone will always find out. And it is definitely not my thing to keep things secret (I did that with Selfish Engaged Bitch and have since concluded that it’s demeaning if only one wants to do it).
The thing with la parisienne is that she has never been broken up with. Let me say that again, she’s never had her heart broken. Dating her, I broke one of my cardinal rules. After Scottish Lass, I’d sworn not to date someone so inexperienced. They will treat you like a fouryearold who rips off the legs of an insect because it doesn’t understand the meaning of life and death.
So when I told la parisienne that I am experiencing problems connecting emotionally with Barbie because of the news of la parisienne’s return as I’m still emotionally tied to her, she didn’t understand. Actually she said she couldn’t understand how the fact that a relationship had just ended, with you as the losing party, could affect your ability to start something new. I was truly surprised but again it just further underlined my impression that la parisienne is a kid.
In November we broke up on the phone. Seeing her over Christmas made me realise that we’d not really broken up and that I still nurtured a hope and a wish that we’d get back together. Seeing her yesterday – regardless of what I wrote below in my late night drunken depressed and shocked-at-seeing-her rant – made me realise that I have, finally, put her behind me.
Friends, I feel like I’m about to start something wonderful with Barbie and I won’t allow anything to hinder it. The road ahead is empty, perhaps just wet from the rain that fell last night, and now glistening with hope and promise in the morning sun. I see it’s dark, confident and safe surface before me and how it undulates over the green landscape. I’m just dying to see where it leads and what will happen along the way. Imagine, all along the only thing missing was a talk with la parisienne.
Thanks for reading.
That last post may have been over the top. But I’ve promised myself never to delete anything on this blog. What’s here is how it was when I wrote it and that’s how it remains. I don’t want to give an edited view of what’s happening. Well, of course apart from fixing spelling and grammar mistakes to the extent I find them (I’m a lawyer after all).
I’ve just texted la parisienne with “Hi we need to talk” and received “Yes we have” so we’re meeting up today at 5 p.m.
I really have no idea what we’re going to talk about or what I want to say or achieve with this meeting. Can you help me?
I just got in from having been out with friends at a bar and a club. This week was la parisienne’s first week back from Africa, and working in my unit. But I hadn’t seen her at all. And she hadn’t contacted me, even on Skype, I guess because I asked her a few months ago not to be in touch because I, having been d u m p e d cannot go from boyfriend and someone who loves her to just being a friend, which apparently is what she would like. This evening she showed up at the bar where we were a very large group of people. I went up to her and said hi. To call the five-minute conversation we had stiff would be an understatement. It felt awful, there was no connection. And so after a while I left her, just like that. The evening progressed. More drinks, more music and eventually the bar closed. I didn’t speak with her again at that bar. Then we all ended up at a club. I really did my very best to enjoy myself. I danced with lots of girls. And I have to admit I danced close with them to see how she would react. I saw her glance over a few times, sort of with a dark face. But she didn’t come up to me even once. At one point I had to leave the dancefloor and there she was just at the edge, asking “Where are you going?”. I just said to the bar. I so wish I had stopped and talked with her. As I’m writing this my heart hurts. I danced with A Girl Called S – and Spanish Prosecutor exercised her very best match-making skills to make me and A Girl Called S hook up. But it failed. I think the fault was on both our parts, not only mine. I saw la parisienne dance, waving her arms in the air as I have seen her do so many times when she’s out drunk. Focusing especially on some tall, Palestinian looking guy. Eventually, I had had enough. I don’t know if they left together. I spoke with Spanish Prosecutor a bit, and by then I was very sad, and a bit angry. Angry at myself for being such an incapable shit, not even being able to pull any girl, even if my effing life depended on it, just to have a good time and forget the pain. I was angry at myself for letting myself go through this and not realise before I was too deeply into the relationship that la parisienne is not for me. But as I write that every fiber in me disagrees with that statement. I know I have feelings for her still, deep feelings. This has become clear from seeing her today. God I miss her. Spanish Prosecutor said “What makes you believe that every woman should desire you?” Very good question, but I said that’s not the point. The point is that I would like this one to want me. Who knows maybe she one day will. But likely not. She also said that my problem was that I tried and tried again with la parisienne instead of breaking off before I got too into it. Perhaps that’s a lesson to be learnt: know thyself and what thy wants and when you see signs that you won’t get it, break off, break off fast and run, run your ass off because odds are you won’t get it even if you try real hard once, twice or even thrice. But can you blame me for trying with la parisienne? I think not. I’m at that point in life when I go into a relationship fully, because who knows, maybe this one will be the one. I won’t fiddle about and not take it seriously that a girl likes me; rather I will give my all. I don’t have the time to waste on rubbish relationships. And so I did go in, guns blazing and giving everything. And therefore I’m sitting here now, at 4.30 a.m. writing about how utterly useless and incapable I feel. I blame fate, in a way, for not giving me a break, for making her come back and not give me the time I need to get over her, which I definitely would have had, if she had returned in August as originally planned. I blame fate for putting Barbie in front of me at this point in time – the girl I desired so much before la parisienne. The girl I felt I could fall for, and I mean really fall for. And I blame fate for having blinded me with la parisienne and having made me believe – rightly or wrongly – that she is the one for me. I feel useless for seeing her with someone else, believing that it should be me. I feel awful imagining what she will do with that person. I feel incapable, in fact, completely handicapped by the fact that life is so unfair and inequal between men and women when it comes to sex, the one thing at this point which could in some way validate me, even though I know it would only be for a while. But God how I need that victory now. But won’t have it. And the fact that I know that she could at the flick of a finger, truly infuriates me.
Fuck I hate it all.
Friends, I guess you’ve wondered about Barbie so let me give you an update. Last blip on the grid was Sunday 11th. Since then my work has taken all my time but so has hers, plus the poor thing has been really sick following our run that Sunday. She even got lots of little red spots, which made me worried. Anyway, I’m very happy to report that she got better towards the end of last week. Sadly, I had to spend the whole weekend working (8 am-10 pm…both days…yes, I’m exhausted this week) and so couldn’t see her.
On Saturday she asked if I wanted to come over for dinner after which I could’ve rejoined my team and continued working but I felt – rightly or wrongly, I don’t know – that I should not abandon my team and go off and do something fun when they would be left for an hour and a half doing hard work.
This means that Barbie and I haven’t seen each other for ten days. I’ve thought so much about her it’s ridiculous. I’ve felt that I miss her. In fact, when I’m feeling happy, I think about her, I feel that I want to share the happiness with her somehow. It’s a strange feeling. We’ve texted almost daily and I have begun ending my messages with “x” or even “xx”. She does the same. Thursday evening, when she was the most sick, we talked on the phone for a long while and it was so nice. I definitely didn’t want to hang up. It made me realise that I really wanted to get to know her, spend more time with her, find out who she is. After we hung up, I texted “I realise I haven’t shown it well so far but I’d really like to get to know you”. She sent me more texts after but did not comment on this text. We also texted yesterday and in the evening I sent a rather silly and pathetic “yoho, perhaps you’re asleep. I just wanted to wish a good night. x” She hasn’t replied yet…
Tomorrow she’s going to Val d’Isère for an extended weekend of skiing. She’s really looking forward to it. This morning I woke up with an idea. My brother has volunteered for the Red Cross in the past and once gave me a red plastic heart filled with a liquid and a little metal piece, which, when bent, will start a chemical reaction. This “freezes” the liquid, the heart goes all hard and becomes really hot. It lasts for an hour or so and can be used for warming hands or one’s tummy etc. Anyway, my idea was to give her this for her trip.
I can’t believe I went through with this. Anyway, I put the heart in an envelope, wrote “B. Something to keep you warm in the slopes” on it, and sent it to her via internal mail. Without writing my name…So far I haven’t heard anyting. God, I must have done something really stupid! Perhaps she thinks it’s from some freak and doesn’t want to ask me if I sent it for fear of giving the impression that she believes that I would be capable of doing something so utterly lame.
So today and tonight I have not texted feeling that I’ve, well, done enough. That’s the latest.
This is just an observation I’ve recently made. Please bear with me and my warped opinions. Irish (who is actually out in the cold as far as I am concerned, but that’s another story) said the other day to my 153 cm (rougly 5ft) Japanese colleague that she, that is Irish, is 173 cm (5ft7in) tall. I looked at her and thought “no way you are”. Then I thought, “How could I know?”. You see, the thing with Irish is that she insists on wearing high heels, with emphasis on high. It’s truly ridiculous. Sometimes the heels are so high that the ordinarily horizontal parts of her feet are virtually vertical. The heels are so high that the actual heels of her feet point upwards. Shoes with heels this high often result in the wearer having to adopt a silly, unnatural walk. Rather like giraffes walk. Of course, some women can walk in such shoes, but most can’t. And most don’t realise that they can’t and that only just a tiny little bit lower heels will result in such improved posture and elegance.
It is the 21st of March – spring equinox – and according to the latest information available la parisienne’s back from Africa since two days. I haven’t seen her though, mainly because work remains crazy. But even when I’ve been in the office I haven’t run into her either. As I write this, however, a détente is being exercised on Skype: I’m online and available and she’s logged on but with the little moon icon to indicate that she’s “unavailable”. I’m not going to even send her a “welcome back” chat message.
So Barbie has just left my place and biked home. We’ve actually spent a large part of the day together. Went for a long run together (it’s been beautiful here today). Then she came over for dinner and the plan was to go to the cinema. However, fate as well as she, it seems, would have other plans.
Imagine this. You’ve just finished a very nice dinner together with someone you like. Conversation’s gone really well and you’ve connected a little bit more than before, you’re actually getting to know each other. You get ready to leave for the cinema, she goes to the bathroom for a moment and you put on your coat. When she comes out she says, just like that almost matter-of-factly, “What do you want with this thing, is it just for fun for you or are you serious about it?” This was an ambush that Vietcong would’ve been proud of. Look up ‘stunned’ on Wikipedia and you’ll see my picture. She added, so as to complete the blackmail situation she had so cunningly engineered, that she asked because “she does not want to get hurt” and that if I’m only interested in something short-term then we’d better stop it. I had the feeling she suppressed the words “right now”. Then again, this was not said in any agitated state but it was all very civilised.
I said in a deliberately only moderately convincing manner that no, I’m not interested in something short-term or just “for fun” (aka f*ck buddy – at least that’s how I interpreted her). I said that if her question was spawned by my having told her last Saturday that yes, I’m ready to date, but that my hesitation – which I believe is a legitimate hesitation – is due simply to the fact that the recent news that la parisienne returns in a week’s time (rather than in August) to work in my unit has, well, disturbed my circles. I said that no, I do not harbour any feelings of hope or desire to get back with la parisienne, but again I am affected by the news of her imminent return. Then we hugged and kissed and decided not to go to the cinema but to watch The Matrix at my place, a film she hadn’t seen. Lots of snogging, which by now is getting tedious, but again nothing further on the physical front.
Yes, dear readers, I’m confused and befuddled, my brain is addled, my noodle is baked. W-T-F. I do not – repeat – do not consider ambush tactics to be anything but childish game-play, which does not belong among adults. Yes, we needed a talk but no, we didn’t need it after having spent hours upon hours of great time together today and just as we are about to go out. And the question she asked is wrong; it is not whether I want something short-term or not, but whether there is any emotional basis between the two of us for trying anything at all, short-term or long-term. I mean, it’s not like we can move forward any slower, is it? For F’s sake, it’s like running a car on brake fluid!
And no – just for the record – I do not appreciate being served with an “I don’t want to get hurt” as a reason, even when the question is as stupid as the one she asked. This is how it is, babe: it’s life and this is how relationships start. You’re not likely to get killed, but you run the risk of having your heart broken. So in order to play you’re required to insert into the slot machine at least parts of your heart before pulling the handle. Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky and win, maybe even the biggest fattest hugest prize of them all with a life-long payment scheme. But, as we all know, odds are against you statistically speaking. Then again, if you still wanna play then you gotta pay. And no, there’s no insurance policy you can take so if you lose, you stand there, broke and broken. So don’t give me any of that “I don’t want to get hurt” crap. Deal with it and take it, should it come, as an adult woman. Eat chocolate, ice cream, whinge to your friends, go out and date like crazy and jump every even remotely male-looking man, start a new hobby, exercise, whatever the hell women do to get over male bastards who’ve dumped them. But do not ambush me and imply that I’m to blame for failing to prove to you that I’m keen on a real relationship when in actual fact it is you, my dear, who’s the obstacle to this going anywhere. I mean, for God’s sake, how, if not by touching and kissing you and showing affection, am I supposed to prove my interest?
Man, I’m upset. And quite honestly, I’m losing interest, though I have not yet shown it. I do believe that by now we’ve gone way past what is normal regarding physical progress when dating someone. It’s not fun any longer and I’m not even looking forward to it, should it ever happen. There is such a thing as pleasures of anticipation, but this is going too far. She’s a grown-up woman and should be able to handle these things. It’s not like when you were a virgin and it was the most precious gift you felt you could ever give to someone. Besides, she’s been in five long-term relationships, ranging from 9 months to 4 years. So it’s not like this is a new situation for her.
At the very least the situation which she created tonight provides us with a basis from which to hold further discussions on this matter. As they would diplomatically say in politics when the opposite side has come up with an utterly ridiculous proposal.
On Saturday last week, Barbie invited me to dinner and a movie at her place. I guess, this would be our sixth or seventh date. I’m losing track a little – which is ok because as a a lawyer I’m not required to be good with numbers (though as man, I need to be good with figures 
anyway lame jokes aside). It was a really nice evening. I’m amazed at how good a cook she is, truly impressive. Conversation flowed well and we covered a few “meta topics”, like favourite job, reasons for being a lawyer, goals in life, etc. Sort of a value-based discussion, which is always interesting. The movie was “Dead Fish”, sort of a low-budget Snatch. And we sat in her sofa, snogged a lot, she leaning against me. Very cute and quite hot actually. She could obviously notice that I was interested in her. After the film, she asked if I’d like to stay over. I first didn’t understand what she asked so she had to clarify that she meant sleep over. With her. In her bedroom, which is where her bed is, so it also meant in her bed. Ah, I said. And I said yes, I’d really like to. So I did
Quite an interesting night. Nothing happened though. We spent an hour doing more of “the talk”. If you recall, the previous weekend I’d asked her if she was ready to start dating again, to which she’d replied that she was because her last break-up was a mutual one without hard feelings. So, using this as an excuse, she now asked me if I was ready. With full honesty and sincerity I said yes, I am. The only concern I have is that I am wondering how I will react when la parisienne shows up on 19 March to work in my unit. I know, though, that I am not interested in her anymore. That seems to have satisfied her and she said she understood.
Then we snogged some more, which was ok I guess. Main problem was that she didn’t initiate or maintain much physical contact but it was always I who had to act. If not, we’d basically have been lying there only touching with our lips, like two seals, which would have been ridiculous of course. After a while I broke off the snogging. I mean really, if we’re not going further I’m more happy to sleep and focus on my own night-time recovery.
Next morning we woke up, did the whole “pretend to sleep” thing, kissed some more and then after a cup of coffee I went home. It was all rather odd and abrupt. Still I felt good about the evening and night. It was really nice to sleep next to someone and feel her skin against mine, have her hair in my face etc. All these little things which are so cute and lovely.
Recent Comments