I sat there, at my desk, alone in my office, deep in thought. I heard the vacuum cleaner buzzing in the background. I thought about the work I could not yet bring myself to start. I thought about the things I could do when I got home. I thought about her.
I stood there, amidst the chaos of the game, deep in thought. I acknowledged players buzzing around in the background. I did the bare minimum to get me through. I thought about the things I could do when the game was over. I thought about her.
I lay there, in my bed, darkness and heat palpable outside, deep in thought. Deafening silence outside. I did not sleep.
I thought about her.
Thursday, 15 April 2010
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
wearing women's underwear
How did I get here? At what point did this take that inevitable twist from quirky and arousing to just plain stupid. Closing my eyes had done nothing. I was still in the corridor. I was still clad in my fiance's finest lace ensemble. And there was still a 58 year old woman staring down at my situation with a mixture of of pity and disdain. That she was clutching a King Charles with the keenest of eyes trained on my exposed testes didnt worry me - much. That she was the mother of the owner of said fine lace attire, did. A lot
Oh, hello. Lovely hotel isn't it..I wanted to say. Thats it,smoothly does it. James Bond I am not. My actual response resembled more the mating call of some form of embarrassed yak. Then, the shining glory that is the 'dart'. The only question is where. Severe consequences await if I get the door wrong. 406, I'm sure..
As I rounded the bend, I could still hear the clanging of the ice bucket on the shiny parquet. 409..408..407, and I'm there. Banging on the door like fugitive on the run from the law, I take in my surroundings. SHIT!
Behind me, the door held ajar by my left Converse all-star. 4-0-frigging 5. I lunge across the corridor desperate to reach 405, not a good look.Definately not something that the maid of honour wanted exposing to. Tough, I guess.
Oh, hello. Lovely hotel isn't it..
Oh, hello. Lovely hotel isn't it..I wanted to say. Thats it,smoothly does it. James Bond I am not. My actual response resembled more the mating call of some form of embarrassed yak. Then, the shining glory that is the 'dart'. The only question is where. Severe consequences await if I get the door wrong. 406, I'm sure..
As I rounded the bend, I could still hear the clanging of the ice bucket on the shiny parquet. 409..408..407, and I'm there. Banging on the door like fugitive on the run from the law, I take in my surroundings. SHIT!
Behind me, the door held ajar by my left Converse all-star. 4-0-frigging 5. I lunge across the corridor desperate to reach 405, not a good look.Definately not something that the maid of honour wanted exposing to. Tough, I guess.
Oh, hello. Lovely hotel isn't it..
empty
Whenever he remembered her, it was never the sublime. Never the fantastic sex they had, never the stunning moments they shared. It was the mundane. It was the long drives through the countryside, when he'd look over and see her smiling and singing absentmindedly. And she'd catch his eye and give him the look.
It was her empty seat he was looking at now. The pang - more like a heart attack - stayed longer this time. He felt empty. He wanted the world around him to be as bleak as he felt. The sun irritated him. The clear sky annoyed. The sad mournful songs did nothing.
His mind was awash with what he could have done. He analyzed everything. He scoured his memory for something he'd done. The big things first. But there were none. Just little ones. Bickering. The way couples do. He always got the impression she'd seen that as an issue. A blot on an otherwise perfect horizon. He thought otherwise. He only ever argued with people he liked. Indifference was far worse than anger or hatred. And he only ever really bickered with her.
He turned back to the road. Where to go? He wanted something, anything, so he would know what to do. He would go to the end of the earth for her, but only if she wanted him to. He could see no future without her, but he was willing to move on, if she wanted him to. He was in purgatory.
And then she was back, back in her seat. Back where she belonged,next to him. He knew it wasn't real, but now, for just one more minute, he wanted it to be as it was. As it should.
It was her empty seat he was looking at now. The pang - more like a heart attack - stayed longer this time. He felt empty. He wanted the world around him to be as bleak as he felt. The sun irritated him. The clear sky annoyed. The sad mournful songs did nothing.
His mind was awash with what he could have done. He analyzed everything. He scoured his memory for something he'd done. The big things first. But there were none. Just little ones. Bickering. The way couples do. He always got the impression she'd seen that as an issue. A blot on an otherwise perfect horizon. He thought otherwise. He only ever argued with people he liked. Indifference was far worse than anger or hatred. And he only ever really bickered with her.
He turned back to the road. Where to go? He wanted something, anything, so he would know what to do. He would go to the end of the earth for her, but only if she wanted him to. He could see no future without her, but he was willing to move on, if she wanted him to. He was in purgatory.
And then she was back, back in her seat. Back where she belonged,next to him. He knew it wasn't real, but now, for just one more minute, he wanted it to be as it was. As it should.
Saturday, 3 April 2010
alone
He was a paradox. He skin was dry and hard, yet as the callouses on his rough hands traced the outline of her face, there was a softness to his touch that she had never experienced before. They had known each other such a short time. Yet from their first encounter, she felt her life was destined to intertwine with his.
And then, as the early morning sun slowly climbed, and the birds chattered, he was gone.
She had not wanted to leave him. He completed her, she knew that. Now more than ever. Yet somewhere inside of her, she felt an overwhelming destructive urge to fight; to fight all that she knew was good and right. It was 'the Gods way of telling her not to be too content with simple pleasures', her mother had told her. It was a family trait. In the blood. She was powerless. Yet this time, she had wanted to fight it. Her whole being was tied to him, and the life they were building together. Now she was alone. Free, but alone.
She turned her head, shook away the far away thoughts and rose to her feet and surveyed the scene she had left the previous night Her eyes stung. She had cried for hours - she remembered now. An interesting first thought, she reflected, when surrounded by such beauty. The grand old stone building looked every day of its 500 years, but perched atop the small mound, it watched over the clearing and the forest beyond, with the keenest of eyes. An old general marshalling its troops.
And with that she turned to the door. No, she thought. Not while he was still so close. If he was to be part of this future, she wanted him to be real. Here. She had left him with no clues, no reason to suspect her whereabouts. But destiny, destiny is stronger than logic. Isn't it?
And it was then that she realised..A cold tangible feeling of dread consumed her. What had she done. The door was no longer important. Her feet began to wobble, she was going faint. She fell to the hard ground. She waited for the pain. The pain; that normally makes it better, makes it real. But nothing. It did not come.
He made her real, she knew that now. He was her future, her dreams, her love, her life. She had given it all up. To be free. But how can someone so empty ever be free? She was alone, she knew that now. There was no destiny, no him, and therefore, no freedom.
And then, as the early morning sun slowly climbed, and the birds chattered, he was gone.
She had not wanted to leave him. He completed her, she knew that. Now more than ever. Yet somewhere inside of her, she felt an overwhelming destructive urge to fight; to fight all that she knew was good and right. It was 'the Gods way of telling her not to be too content with simple pleasures', her mother had told her. It was a family trait. In the blood. She was powerless. Yet this time, she had wanted to fight it. Her whole being was tied to him, and the life they were building together. Now she was alone. Free, but alone.
She turned her head, shook away the far away thoughts and rose to her feet and surveyed the scene she had left the previous night Her eyes stung. She had cried for hours - she remembered now. An interesting first thought, she reflected, when surrounded by such beauty. The grand old stone building looked every day of its 500 years, but perched atop the small mound, it watched over the clearing and the forest beyond, with the keenest of eyes. An old general marshalling its troops.
And with that she turned to the door. No, she thought. Not while he was still so close. If he was to be part of this future, she wanted him to be real. Here. She had left him with no clues, no reason to suspect her whereabouts. But destiny, destiny is stronger than logic. Isn't it?
And it was then that she realised..A cold tangible feeling of dread consumed her. What had she done. The door was no longer important. Her feet began to wobble, she was going faint. She fell to the hard ground. She waited for the pain. The pain; that normally makes it better, makes it real. But nothing. It did not come.
He made her real, she knew that now. He was her future, her dreams, her love, her life. She had given it all up. To be free. But how can someone so empty ever be free? She was alone, she knew that now. There was no destiny, no him, and therefore, no freedom.
home
The dull thuds dispersed into the soft,crisp night as she ascended the old stone staircase. Anticipation coursed through her veins, at what she had just seen, and what she was about to see. To observe her though, you would not know. Her gait was even, measured, controlled.
With the crickets her only companions, she reached the crest of the hill, and the steps stopped. She had arrived. As she pushed aside her unkempt golden locks, the moment became too great, too vast to keep inside any longer. And as the tears made their journey down the warm cheeks, she reflected; it was not what I was expecting, but everything I had hoped for, and more. She was home. Finally home.
The gentle glow of the low crescent moon washed the landscape in an eerie, romantic light, but as she arrived at the door, she had no intention of pushing it. This was as far as she could go tonight. She had achieved so much to get here, she reflected. One more night of contemplation was what she needed. Her past - not yet shaken from her memory - had no place inside her new world. As she lay on the soft bed of grass completely alone, she cried. Tears of sorrow, of sadness and of loss. Tears of relief, of hope, and of joy.
Tomorrow, she thought.
A good nights sleep and she might just have the strength to push open the door to her new world..
With the crickets her only companions, she reached the crest of the hill, and the steps stopped. She had arrived. As she pushed aside her unkempt golden locks, the moment became too great, too vast to keep inside any longer. And as the tears made their journey down the warm cheeks, she reflected; it was not what I was expecting, but everything I had hoped for, and more. She was home. Finally home.
The gentle glow of the low crescent moon washed the landscape in an eerie, romantic light, but as she arrived at the door, she had no intention of pushing it. This was as far as she could go tonight. She had achieved so much to get here, she reflected. One more night of contemplation was what she needed. Her past - not yet shaken from her memory - had no place inside her new world. As she lay on the soft bed of grass completely alone, she cried. Tears of sorrow, of sadness and of loss. Tears of relief, of hope, and of joy.
Tomorrow, she thought.
A good nights sleep and she might just have the strength to push open the door to her new world..
Friday, 2 April 2010
starting again
Its always been one of those things that has hit me harder than it should. I've always struggled with the finality of it all. I will never wake up with her next to me again..Never again will I wrap my arms around her, and tell her that its all going to be ok. All of these things that we planned together; the old farmhouse in the south of France, the romantic proposal just before her birthday in Krakow, the 3 kids and 2 dogs and 1 donkey..where do they go?What happens to them?
Whether or not its the right thing or not has never come into it. I try to be closed,aloof, hard. But I cannot deny it. I am a romantic; a dreamer; in love with the life that we plan together, and willing to overlook the faults of myself, of my partner, and of the relationship. But for a good cause - happyness. Is that too old fashioned?
In an age where we are flooded with choices and opportunities to better ourselves - regardless of whether we deserve it - who is going to settle for something flawed, even just slightly. The grass being constantly greener - through extensive use of fertilizer - who wants to settle? Apart from me?
Me - I'm young-ish, successful-ish, well educated-ish and well travelled-ish. I know who I am, and I quite like who I am, most of the time. And I know what I want, I think. I was sure of it on Tuesday at 11:00pm in the hotel bar when we were drinking and chatting and smiling. I wanted a farmhouse in the south of France, a romantic proposal just before her birthday in Krakow, the 3 kids, the 2 dogs and the 1 donkey. But that is not my dream. Its not even hers; that was ours.
I was happy with Soph. Not gloriously, overwhelmingly in love, but I was well on my way. And here is the real f**ker. She was too. I'm dead fucking certain of it.
So, here I am, a single romantic dreamer in need of not only a new love, but of a new dream.
And that scares the shit out of me.
Whether or not its the right thing or not has never come into it. I try to be closed,aloof, hard. But I cannot deny it. I am a romantic; a dreamer; in love with the life that we plan together, and willing to overlook the faults of myself, of my partner, and of the relationship. But for a good cause - happyness. Is that too old fashioned?
In an age where we are flooded with choices and opportunities to better ourselves - regardless of whether we deserve it - who is going to settle for something flawed, even just slightly. The grass being constantly greener - through extensive use of fertilizer - who wants to settle? Apart from me?
Me - I'm young-ish, successful-ish, well educated-ish and well travelled-ish. I know who I am, and I quite like who I am, most of the time. And I know what I want, I think. I was sure of it on Tuesday at 11:00pm in the hotel bar when we were drinking and chatting and smiling. I wanted a farmhouse in the south of France, a romantic proposal just before her birthday in Krakow, the 3 kids, the 2 dogs and the 1 donkey. But that is not my dream. Its not even hers; that was ours.
I was happy with Soph. Not gloriously, overwhelmingly in love, but I was well on my way. And here is the real f**ker. She was too. I'm dead fucking certain of it.
So, here I am, a single romantic dreamer in need of not only a new love, but of a new dream.
And that scares the shit out of me.
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