That thing between life and death…what a bitch!

These are the words of a text I received from The Ex today. What a headfucker of a day. At 4.15am, my phone buzzed and woke me up – which doesn’t often happen. It was a text from my Ex (a particularly boisterous text) followed by another asking for me to call him. I replied, asking if his text was meant for me. No, was the reply. Fair enough. I turned around to fall back asleep, and then my phone rang. What followed was a 3 hour conversation.

We covered a lot of ground. Initially, he was calling because a mutual friend of ours (ish) had told him I was doing coke, sleeping with his friends etc etc. I know who he was talking about and I don’t understand why she’s saying this. I haven’t done coke. I tried a little on my gums on a night out with Mr Music because I wanted to know what the fuss was about. It was disgusting. And I’d told my friend this while we were talking about coke in general. As for me sleeping with his mates, well. I haven’t! One of them tried it on with me, twice, but I said no. Furthermore, the friend of his who tried it on is now sleeping with the friend whose been stirring shit. Lastly, I wouldn’t dip into that genetically inbred pool if you paid me. So, of course, I told him all this. He said he believed me, he just couldn’t understand why she was saying these things. The conversation then covered our relationship, our new relationships and everything in between.

The worst thing he said, was that this time last year, when I was begging and dying for him to take me back, he said no because he didn’t want to feel like I was doing it out of pity for him and the way he acted when I left him. He wanted me to take the time to really think about what I wanted, but that he did want to get back together. That hurt. A lot. I don’t know how I could have made it any clearer that I wanted him back. When he left me crying until I thought I’d vomit up my insides, twice. When I’d call and text and call and text. I don’t understand how he could have thought it was pity. He said saying no was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. I felt incredibly sad and I told him that. Throughout our relationship he could be the master manipulator. He could pull anyone’s strings and have them marching to the beat of his drum. But there’d be times he’d do things and I wouldn’t understand why. He used to tell me he wanted me to figure out the reasons why instead of him telling me. He said, that there were certain things in life that he didn’t want to influence people over, so he would do things without explanation to make them think about why he was doing what he was doing. And if that sounds complicated, it’s because it was. I don’t know how many times I’d told him while we were together not to do this. I could never figure it out and it inevitably led to arguments. It seems that him rejecting me, almost a year ago to the day, was borne out of the same idea. He said he wanted me to want to be with him (which he would know was for real after a period of absence), and make that want known, followed by ‘hint, hint, nudge, nudge’. He said there was one point when we’d met and I was so upset, but I still couldn’t tell him I wanted to come back. And that even now, he knows I wouldn’t be able to say that, even if that’s what I still wanted because I’m that stubborn.

It was a hard conversation. Very emotional, very deep. Despite that, we still laughed like we were old friends. He told me I sounded strong and sexy, like the 17 year old girl he fell in love with and not the 27 year old woman who left. He told me he wanted me to give 100% of myself to the next guy, like I didn’t with him. And for his part, he told me about what he’s been up to. About his relief at easily being able to make a woman come in bed, which he did maybe three or four times with me, though not through lack of trying. In fairness, his new girlfriend sounds nice  enough. It sounds like she’s giving him everything he wants and was never able to get from me. We spoke about friends we used to hang out with. His best friend (who’s friends with Gym Buddy and the reason we met in the first place) is back with his girlfriend. When they were together, we all used to hang out. I really liked her and then when they split (in a particularly nasty fashion), I never heard from her again. I actually contacted her again this year and we swapped a couple of emails before she dropped off again. Turns out they’re back together now after being apart for a couple of years and expecting a baby. I don’t know why but that news really got to me. In my head, we were always going to be the ones to do that first. We were always the couple our friends used to talk about as the pinnacle of what relationships were. Hard, yes, but solid. Which was the case for many years. We were meant to get married first, have kids first. Now, that’s happening to them instead of us. He said the same thing, that I was meant to be the grandmother of his grandchildren and now that’s not going to happen. In the end, he started to get upset and said he had to go, at 7.30am.

I was confused. I was tearful and I was sad. He was such a huge part of my life for so long and I couldn’t understand, why now? Why are you telling me this now? We’ve had comms throughout the year, it’s not like this was the first time we’d spoken since the split. We ended up texting until around midday. What have I deduced from this?

He feels regret. He says he thinks he loves his new girlfriend, but she isn’t me. I almost felt like sending him the link to my post about moving on. He said he felt like he’d ruined me and it had been playing on his mind for a long time. That he felt I’d become someone else as a result of what went on during our relationship. To be honest, I think he felt guilt. He’s really into his new girlfriend but it isn’t the same. He said that a lot. The sex is great, but it’s not you. She’s very reactive, but she’s not you. She’s great, but she’s not you. I told him that of course it’s not the same. It’s not meant to be. But if he really likes her then he owes it to her and himself to really try, instead of holding onto memories of what we had. He said he’s learned a lot from our break up (though he’s still on the coke??) and he understands why I left. He doesn’t want me to only tell people about the bad times because he has apparently never badmouthed me. To his friends, to his new girlfriend. It sounded a lot like a case of ‘what could have been’. ‘If only’. If only he hadn’t of played this mind game with me last year. If only I’d have tried for one more week to get him back. He sounded like he didn’t know what he wanted. He said he didn’t know what he wanted. Distracted by memories and nostalgia and I told him that it wasn’t fair to put me through this just because of those two things. He replied by saying he thinks he knows what he wants, he just hadn’t properly dealt with things until today. And knowing that I’m happy makes that easier. I’ll always be the love of his life and even though he’s old school and therefore bound to hate The Frenchman or anyone else, he’s also an adult and wants me to be happy.

By the time we said our goodbyes, I felt a bit better. It felt like he just needed to talk some things out and figure things out in his head. And although I shouldn’t be the person he goes to for that, I can’t deny it was nice to talk to him again. Our break up was hard and messy, but the comms we’ve had since then have been friendly enough. After ten years, of course I care about him. Of course I want him to be happy. He’s such a strong person, I know how much it takes for him to talk about his deep feelings, let alone cry. It goes against everything he was brought up to believe, so I knew how much he needed to talk last night.

It’s left me unfocused and with a headache. My trip to the National Gallery turned out to be a waste of time because I couldn’t focus on anything at all. Not because I’m confused about my feelings, or anything like that, but because I’ve been left with this feeling that I can’t describe. This feeling of…..this. I have to agree with his text. Life is a bitch and full of what ifs and regrets. But I do know that this year I’ve been happy. I can’t lay my unhappiness all on him – I know I could have done things differently to make myself happy – but I wouldn’t have done even a quarter of the things I’ve done this year if we’d have got back together. And it’s only after I’ve done said thing that I realise how much I’ve changed since I left. Or reverted back to my old self.

But I still can’t help the feeling that all of this shouldn’t have happened. And because of a massive case of crossed wires, miscommunications etc, it has. And that is such a shame.


Love in all its forms…

French is apparently a ‘romance’ language. Which doesn’t actually mean much to do with romance in that context but it’s fitting for this post.

I got an email from The Frenchman earlier this evening, in which he signed off “bisous de ton petit Francais qui t’adore’ which means, ‘kisses from your little Frenchman who loves you.”

The ‘little’ made me laugh because he’s definitely not that and when I read the sentence, I did a happy dance. But then…

I’m sure 99% of people have heard of the phrase “Je t’aime” at least because of some song that was practically pornographic back in the day. Usually, in films and the like, “Je t’aime” is the way to say ‘I love you.’ As in, ‘I’m in love with you.’ So what the hell does “je t’adore” mean? The results I’ve found are pretty inconclusive. Even amongst French natives. Some think “je t’aime” is stronger than “je t’adore” regardless of the fact that ‘aimer’ means to like and ‘adore’ means to love.

I can tell you one thing. After 5 months of learning French, the biggest thing I’ve learned is that even they don’t really understand their language! Things are just the way they are – having one word with a gazillion different meanings is just one example. Regardless, I’m going to revel in this. It looks like things are moving in the right direction, regardless of what the EXACT translation is.

The end result is that I’m smiling. Which is definitely a good thing 😀


Anger and Disappointment

Well, I tried my best. I held out for as long as I could with Mr Grey but this morning I snapped. After pretty non-existent comms for the last few weeks, I asked what was going on because for me, it felt like he’d lost interest. Apparently he hasn’t, but life has got in the way meaning he doesn’t have much time, and it’s made him think he doesn’t have time for a relationship, which he says is where he thought it was heading. So it’s been left in that ‘let’s meet when we can’ zone which pretty much nearly always means ‘it was nice to know you but I’ll inevitably fall off the face of the earth.’

I’m not going to lie, I’m gutted. Never mind the tattoo stuff (didn’t ask) the lack of comms really hurt. If he was feeling that way then why not just say so? He apparently appreciates how understanding I am about his ‘commitments’ so why feel he couldn’t tell me he no longer had the time? To me, this feels like I’ve just had a summer romance, and I’ve come out bruised.

Right now, I feel like hiding away for a few days. I feel like an idiot for not listening to the friends who told me not to like him too much. I feel like an idiot for allowing myself to really start liking, and dare I say it, falling for him. I suppose the only plus in this is that I wasn’t deluded if he thought we were going somewhere too. He’s far from perfect. He has emotional and physical baggage to the extreme for one thing, but I still feel hurt. I think most of what I’m feeling is directed towards myself right now, and not him, which makes it so much worse.

It’s not all doom and gloom. We’ve left things pretty open I guess, but I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing and I’m not going to hold my breath. Hopefully in a few days I’ll feel better. Now it’s just fingers crossed for Miss Sunshine 🙂

Cancelling Dates

Now this is interesting. Following a comment on my last post, my transatlantic fellow blogger, SocialKenny, is firmly of the opinion that dates are mostly cancelled by women. Surely this can’t be true?

Here in the UK at least, it’s almost a cliche that the guy will be the one to cancel or just not show for 99% of the time. How many times should you be willing to accept a cancellation before giving up? I said two (in close succession). Which makes no sense since I’ve cancelled on Mr Grey twice in the space of three days. But still.

Surely this isn’t the norm??

Testing My Patience

Well, I have no substantial update following my last post. Mr Grey and I have spoken briefly – and I mean briefly – but not about his tattoo. We were supposed to meet on Sunday and then I gave him the option to rearrange. Why? Because if he’s that tetchy and stressed then I need to time my interrogation well. Which means I’ve gone a whole week without questioning him.

I know to some this isn’t a long time, but for me, it’s major. Everything about me is immediate. I hate waiting. I also hate not being in control of my emotions. I am a massive control freak and going from ‘I’m going to dump him’ to ‘I’m going to slap him’ to ‘I need to talk to him now’ to ‘I’ll give him his space til he’s calmed the fuck down’ has been trying to say the least. That said, I feel immensely proud of myself for not contacting him over the weekend until he contacted me.

I’m being far too considerate of his feelings. He doesn’t know I’ve been in this turmoil for the past week but you can bet your bottom dollar when I do actually speak to him, he bloody will do. I’ve cancelled our maybe date later this week too because I just can’t handle meeting up with him when I’m feeling like this if his mind won’t be there.

And so I have one last test of my patience. Wait until next week when I promise myself that come what may, I’ll be meeting and questioning the daylights out of him. The fact I’m willing to do this speaks volumes to anyone who knows me about how I feel, because this is definitely not normal Freechick behaviour.

If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll recognise this.

In A Serious State Of Confusion!

OK, I need some advice. I know I have a penchant to always assume the worst, but even the ever optimisitic Miss Sunshine has been stumped by this one.

So, as you know, I’ve been sunning it up (and I use that term loosely) in Ibiza with Miss Yoyo and Miss Sunshine over the last week. It was a nice holiday, but it’s been somewhat overshadowed by a text I got from Mr Grey. He had his second sitting for his half sleeve tattoo, and he sent me a picture of it. It wasn’t until I got back to the hotel that night that I looked at it properly, and noticed some roman numerals. When I looked at the date, I realised its significance. It’s the date he got married.

Now, he separated from his wife two years ago in bad circumstances. So I can’t understand why he’d want to have the date of his wedding etched forever more onto his skin. Add to that the fact that when I asked what it was, I got swatted away like a fly and I am thoroughly confused. Since then, I’ve barely eaten – all I feel is sick. Am I being used as a distraction for him? Is he still pining for her? Is the fact they’re only separated and not divorced really because of money, or is it something else? They have a LOT of contact and while I know they have to because they have kids, I’m now wondering if having kids might be an excuse for him to have contact. Is it just a map of significant things that have happened in his life? And if so, how am I meant to feel about that? It doesn’t help that he almost rammed the fact that his vasectomy was 100% final down my throat either.

Should I be worried?

I plan to ask these things when I see him, which isn’t for another 4 days. For someone as impatient as me, this is absolute torture and I can’t promise that I’ll hold out until then. I’m not an unreasonable person, but this has thrown me into a state of confusion over where I stand. It’s making me initiate a conversation I didn’t think we needed to have yet. The ‘what is this relationship about’ conversation. I was happy to just go with the flow before, we were getting on well enough and he was the one leading on everything, but now I’m not sure whether I’m coming or going. I don’t think I’ve ever been so confused about anything before. Ever.

I can’t even think about my holiday – this has just overshadowed it for me, and that is not a good thing. Though I did have fun.

I don’t know what to do.


Whirlwinds and Confusion

I’ve been very quiet blog wise lately. That’d be the whirlwind. Following my first date with Mr Grey, I ended up going on another three dates with him last week, and already onto two dates this week so far. Of course, this included sleep-overs. So much for behaving! For someone I’ve known for such a short space of time, I have to say, I like him. A lot. It’s nice to meet someone who’s in touch with themselves and also gets me and my, frankly weird, sense of humour. Smitten. An added benefit is that thanks to his friend dating my friend, I’m getting tit-bits of feedback and signs are pointing to him feeling the same way. After another marathon text conversation tonight, he’s told me he’s crazy about me. Big, fat smile.

Now for the confusion. I haven’t forgotten about The Frenchman and believe me when I say that for the last week to ten days, I’ve been stressing about what to do. Let’s be honest, France would be a downright dirty weekend. Contrary to my Playing the Game post, I know I’m not capable of sleeping with two guys at the same time (separately, obviously). Multiple dating, yes, but sexually, no. I’ve been so stressed out about it that my period was a week late, which never happens. Ever. I can’t even tell you the amount of thinking I’ve done over this but in the end, I’ve decided not to go.

Not everyone agrees with my decision and if it were me, I’d be saying ‘of course you should go.’ I’m not ‘exclusively’ dating either one of them and I have only known Mr Grey for a few weeks. However, I know myself very well. I know that if I went to France, I’d be stressed the whole time because clearly The Frenchman would be expecting something. And I do like Mr Grey. A friend pointed out that if it went nowhere I’d have lost The Frenchman and I’d end up on my own. And she’s right, I would. But, the fact is that I like him enough to risk it. If this does go somewhere with Mr Grey, I’d rather not have it start with my own guilt, and guilt is what I’d feel. As soon as I told The Frenchman, I felt miles better. So much better that my late period came the day after. Go figure. He was understanding about it. He knows the distance is a factor, and has said the invitation is still open, but if I’m feeling confused then I shouldn’t go. We’re still emailing, though the heat has gone out of the conversations. Mr Grey knew I was going to France, but not why, and last night he brought it up so I told him. Obviously I kept it light – I didn’t want him to think I was a bunny boiler, and he said he’d have been gutted if I’d have gone and done anything.

I’m prepared to end up with egg on my face if that’s what happens. Which I really hope never comes to pass.