It’s amazing how getting a little busier soaks up all the time you used to have to just sit at home in your room, self-pitying and writing. I don’t know if anybody else that I know does this, but I’ve always found that not having a job, or not having a girlfriend, or just generally not having…
It had been a tough few weeks, she had seen him only two months ago, after they spent the most intense, liberating week together.
She hadn’t told her mother that she didn’t go to work that week, she simply held his hand and stepped into his car. She had avoided her sibling’s phone calls. They couldn’t mind their own business anyway.
He was the reserved type, solemn and silent but very capable. He didn’t need to say much at all, but when he did speak, she listened. She liked him, his masculine ways, his dry laugh, his furtive glances in every direction and constant fidgeting with his watch, he was both intriguing as well as remaining aloof.
They spent days in the wilderness, away from people, away from their stifling families, away from judgement, they found solace between the two of them. There were moments of clarity as they watched the sunset, letting their fingers find each others naturally, interlocking and brushing against each others palms in the most casual way. When he drove, they didn’t need music to share, they could sit in silence and watch the streets drift past, the terraces give way to the office buildings, give way to the mansions, give way to the quiet corner stores, give way to eventually, the sea. They left all of that behind.
He broke her in the end, just when she thought she was all he needed, he turned away from her one night after making love. She searched furtively for one of his looks. A look that could, with one glance put her mind at ease. He was already getting dressed, she stepped away from him, trying to get him to look at her. She didn’t realise how he felt.
His brooding, temperamental nature, whiskey stained shirts and the lingering scent of tobacco constantly clinging to his collar, only served to intrigue her more.
He didn’t want to go on like this, she only looked like her from a certain angle. Her eyes were soft and kind, so he knew that he didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t continue like this. He was only prolonging the inevitable.
She needed this time more than he did, he was already broken and scarred from the past, carrying wounds that he could no longer heal. It was as if he cherished the melancholy, he clung desperately to that tear in his chest and didn’t want it to heal. He wanted to carry it forever, for when he knew that it had passed, he knew that he had finally forgotten her. That was worse than the pain.
But she, with her bright eyed optimism, could start over again. She didn’t need to carry his anguish like all the others, she hadn’t been beaten into submission just yet. She had a chance at being content.
Extend the attraction beyond the initial stages. I’ve always been great at attracting and creating excitement in my initial interactions with women.
I’ve actually been completely afraid of commitment, having always stepped back out of actually revealing my feelings to another human, let alone a woman who was actually interested in me.
Now, I want to make this work, I want to get my shit together, and I want her to see that I’m for real. That I’m not just after her for her body, or her beautiful smile or because I like the look in her eyes when she glances at me out of the corner of her eye.
I like that she tests me on things that I believe in. I like that she is very patient and understanding as an individual. I like that she is considerate and kind.
I like that she’s focused on her career and she values what are the most important things in life. I like that she puts her family first ahead of everything else. She made time for me when I knew she was really busy.
I’m trying so hard not to fuck it up, but I’m afraid that she isn’t for me, or that she doesn’t see me in the same light. I’m afraid that there are other guys who are interested in her, and who probably click with her a lot better than I do.
I’m struggling to make this work. I know I should have more confidence about these things, but I can’t help but fall for her. I feel like I’ve been waiting a long time to meet someone like her and I can’t just let her go like that and believe what people say when they say “If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be”.
Last night I saw her again. We had agreed to go see The Grand Budapest Hotel.
I was really nervous to see her. I really wanted this to work but I didn’t want to pressure her either. I waited for her outside of the Dendy cinemas, watching all the people wander past. Smoking cigarettes with friends, holding bags of booze, couples holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes. Most importantly a big vein of this city, pulsating and vibrating to the fervour that engulfs people on a Saturday night. I stood against the side of the entrance, left leg pressed up against the wall to support myself. I contemplated having a cigarette, but I didn’t want the smell of tobacco to linger as I knew she was on her way.
I had my Ipod on shuffle, it began to play Beach House’s “Norway”, it reminded me of the last time I felt this way. I haven’t felt that way in over two years. And it also reminded me of how I felt when it all fell apart.
I’m not sure if I want to feel that way again, I want to get to know this girl but at the same time I don’t think I can handle being hurt like that again.
Why do I have a feeling that it’s never going to work out, she doesn’t walk at the same pace as me, she’s always rushing to get to points and accomplish set goals, people can’t just sit and chill out every once in a while. Just stop, talk and listen.
Why do I have this voice in my head saying “FUCK”.
I want you, why is it so hard to say to someone, without getting into the whole is this a serious relationship, is this going to work out.
Can’t I just stop with the games and just enjoy each other’s company.
I thought these things should be getting easier as I get older, apparently not.
It’s Sunday night, past 11pm. The darkest hour of my week.
I wander through the corridor, lost, in a daze, I don’t really know if I’m sleepy or dreading going to bed, when I awake this week will begin.
I walk into the kitchen, feeling groggy, I pour myself a glass of water, watch as it froths and fills the cup from the bottom up, cascading against itself within the confines that it has been given. Fluidity like water is a special thing, watching as it drips down on the window, the light from the neighbour’s house casts shadows on the distant wall as I watch the drips from the earlier downpour glisten and slide down the outside of the windowpane.
I take a sip from my cup, instead choosing to drain the glass, maybe some of it’s liquid nature will pass through my body.
I think about all the little moments in the day, the small details. Her smile, her curvaceous figure, her ability to draw my attention and hold it, when she isn’t trying to dress like all the other girls I know. She isn’t trying too hard to be cool and fashionable. Her quiet stares, and when she catches me looking at her, and both shyly looking away for being caught in a moment of quiet contemplation of wondering what the future will hold for the both of us. I look into her eyes and look away again, afraid of being hurt for letting my guard down like the multitude of times before.
She is different, she has a kind and nurturing soul. So did all the others, at first. Don’t let your guard down so fast, says the mutterings of another unrequited and unsatisfied friend, aching from the agony of that pain. Mine has only just begun to subside.
Her ear-rings fell out again today, she gets so nervous when it happens, like I won’t still be interested in her because of something silly like that. It just makes me feel more into her.
There was a strange moment at the wharf today. I thought our ferry had arrived, it had the name “Friendship”, but that ferry wasn’t the one for us, it departed the shore and we sat down again waiting for our turn.