I have returned from a date tonight, and it did not go as planned. I know, millions of people have said these words millions of times,….nothing special, really, at all. Honestly, I expected it to go better. After three weeks of talking everyday, and having a million things in common, making each other laugh and being the first to email on NYE, you’d think that’s a basis for a good shot right? I half expected to lay eyes on him and hear that little voice in my head sigh ‘Oh, its you. I wondered where you were for the longest time….’. Boom, head-shot, wedding flowers, house with a porch, babies and a pet hamster.
Turns out the universe doesn’t care what that little voice thinks or wants to say. Seriously, it gives precisely two thirds of a fuck. I say two thirds because I got a few butterflies when I saw him, and when we hugged goodbye. Lovely smile, nice eyes, geek, yes universe, at last you got it! The orders right, tell the kitchen to close up…oh no wait. ‘Lovely person, but honestly I don’t think I felt that romantic spark,,,’. Hold up there, bring me the profiteroles.
The thing is, after a shitty end to my last relationship, again, perhaps half hearted isn’t what I need. I’ve had half hearted, been the one who burns myself up to make it work, been on the end of the phone waiting for them to pick up as it rings, and rings, and rings, and rings. I don’t need to find out he replaced me again because there was someone better. For the love of god, I don’t want any more idle chatter. Please don’t text me with how the weather is, or how shit work was today, open with the time you spent at your Grandmothers church as a frustrated child. Don’t care that you want to buy new shoes, tell me how you got that scar, on your left knee, that puckers when you bend it like a small kiss. Tell me about the hours spent at your Mothers side when she was ill, how your heart broke when your Father cried. I don’t care about funny cats, or server rooms, or your ex you just walked past. Gift wrap me the smell of blackberries in summer and the first time you lost a tooth, halycon summer holidays spent pressed next to your brother in a caravan playing Monopoly while rain beat against the windows of your tiny world.
I want someone, who wants me to know them, who wants to know me. Who could slide like velvet underneath my skin and know my very words before I say them, that wants to hold my memories next to theirs. I don’t think I’ve ever had that perfect fit, not really, just imperfect edges. Edges cut when you hold them too tight.
One day, I will look back and see this as a winding road and understand why it all went this way, and as the old saying goes, life is understood backwards. Onwards into 2015.