I spoke to The Frenchman this morning. It looks like he wont be able to come to London before the end of the year after all. He said he wanted to, but he doesn’t have a weekend free. I’m trying not to be too disappointed – I know how hard it can be to find time in December. He said he wants to come in early-mid January for a weekend of 4-5 days, work permitting. He also said he’s excited to see me in ten days time, when we can talk about my extended trip which is good because I’ll need to give notice of my leave at work. From what he said last time, he’s going skiing for a week in early February (I think) so I’d most likely go towards the end of February or early March.
It’s great that we’re still planning this. As every woman who’s in the early stages of dating knows, talking about stuff ‘in the future’ is always a good sign. I’m just not looking forward to a 4-6 week gap over the holidays. It’s not so much about being ‘single’ over the festive season, to be honest that’s never really bothered me. Granted, I’ve been in a relationship for lots of christmasses, but I’m not the kind of girl who craves being in a loved ones arms over this period of time. And given that we’re in different countries, I’m not sure it would make much difference anyway! It’s just a long time to wait.
I’ve always been a bit of a…I’m not sure what the term is. Not a pessimist. Hmm. OK, I’ll try and explain. When I fly somewhere, I’m always convinced that it’ll be my plan that falls out of the sky. If I’m on holiday, driving up a mountain on tiny roads, I’ll be convinced that the car will topple over the side. If I’m on a boat…you get my drift. It’s really weird, but that’s how I am. I’m one of those whose trying my best to ignore all this 2012 doomsday Mayan calendar stuff, which is a lot easier now than when I was with my ex, who positively LOVED that stuff, and frequently said he couldn’t wait for some kind of apocalypse to happen (yes, he was weird). So it’s in my nature to worry about things, the fact that 1 in 3 people are affected by cancer, or panicking when I don’t hear from someone for a while incase they’ve been run over or something. I’m a cheery person really. I’m just a worrier. And for the last few weeks, this has been really heightened.
It sounds so twattish to say it, but I feel like I’ve become more aware of my own mortality. I don’t mean I’m going around worried about dying, just that how precious time is. I’ve never liked waiting for anything anyway but lately I’ve been thinking, time is going by so quickly and HE’S over THERE. What if I die, or he dies, between now and our next meeting. It’s an awful thing to think and I try really hard to shove it out of my head, but it does sneak back in quite often. What does this mean? Other than I’m a total fruitloop, that is.
In happier (kind of) news, he told me that his cat was ‘not right’ last week. He apparently didn’t see him in the evenings after work as he’d be hiding under the bed or sofa. He thinks his cat was depressed after I went back to London. Which made me go ‘awwww’. You know what they say, win over the cat, bag the man.
Actually, I just made that up but you get the drift.