When things happen that aren’t supposed to happen

So, yeah. I kind of like The Greek a bit. This wasn’t meant to happen. I mean, I wasn’t even supposed to be attracted to him. He’s not tall enough, too young, too slutty, too flirty, too everything. It’s not so bad – I mean I’m not spending my days imagining us together forever and ever amen. Yet. Sigh. The problem started when I realised he’s not *quite* the guy I  expected him to be. I wish I could just be one of those girls who make do with just sex. Because the sex is good. So fucking good.

So he was away on holiday and I wasn’t even missing him much. We’d messaged a bit when he was away and it was fine. Even when he said he was looking forward to seeing me, it was fine, because in my head, that meant he was looking forward to fucking me. Then, he landed at around 10pm and texted to see what I was doing. I’d had a busy day enduring just under three hours of pain for my newest tattoo and was out having a couple of civilised drinks after going to a silent disco/cabaret show thing. He asked if I wanted to come over. Sure, I said, but I wouldn’t get there til 1am at least and wasn’t he tired? I mean, he’d been out the night before and then spoken to me on Facebook until 2am, and then was up at 8am to sort things out before flying back to London. He said he was very, very tired, but he was offering. I went round after finishing up with my friends and got to his around 1.30. He was bone tired, I could see that. And, he was tanned – so tanned it was disgustingly sexy. He asked how I was, how my studying was going, work etc etc. All very nice and friendly. And then he gave me a bag  of sweets he’d brought back after I jokingly demanded that he should. Then came the sex. 

I’m not even going to lie – I felt like my entire fucking reproductive organs got shifted around. Literally.

I was watching Sex and The City the other day and Miranda apparently had said this to Robert, the fit Nicks doctor. 

Image

And that’s literally how I felt. Aside from the extra *ahem* deepness, it was just what I would call intense. I swear, if he could’ve crushed my bones he would’ve. And therein lies my problem, because up til then it was just straight up fucking. He said he didn’t sleep with anyone while he was away, and he’s not sleeping with anyone else right now. It’s probably more because of hygiene than anything else, but c’mon, I’m female, of course that’s got my mind working over time. In homage to those girls in the McDonald’s advert: “WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?”

We stayed up til 5.30, talking about all sorts, having more sex and then fell asleep.

I haven’t seen him since, thanks to my bloody period, but I dunno. I’m kinda thinking this might have to come to a premature end. I suppose it’s a good thing I go away A WEEK ON MONDAY because then I’ll get  some distance before I start overthinking things. Last night, he asked if I was really still going to France when we were texting and I’d said I’d be off after next week. Well of course I am. I asked if he was going to miss me and my ass (which he’s trying to tap and I’m dangling in front of his face quite nicely without saying ‘yes’ or ‘no’) and he said mostly my arse. So that brought me back down to earth.

It also turned out he told a mutual ‘friend’ about our getting together. I don’t mind that he did, but I did mind when she told me she knew and I had literally no inkling of it. She assured me he wasn’t bragging about it, and hasn’t told anyone else in our group. But still. And she wont tell me details of what he said either. 

He said he likes me because I’m not “crazy”. HA! Thank God he doesn’t read my blog! 

 

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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.

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.

The Laws of Attraction…

I had a very interesting thought today after reading a fellow blogger’s post. Someone had asked for an opinion on how a guy would know if a girl was still into him, and the reply she gave was very different to mine. Neither of us were right or wrong, but it did get me thinking about how on earth guys are really meant to know how we feel about them if we don’t communicate it with words.

Having looked online, the most common signs that a female is flirting with you are:

  • smiling
  • physical contact e.g. touching a guys arm while laughing at his joke
  • playing with hair/fidgeting with something
  • mimicking body movements
  • isolating herself

This, to me, is nothing new. It’s almost like a second nature to know certain ‘tells’ when someone likes you through a combination of personal experience and media influences. But what if you don’t behave in this way? Like, for instance, me.

It may be that my judgement is being clouded by the image of a sweet, demure girl twiddling her hair and throatily laughing at a guys crap jokes, but my style of flirting can be quite…well…confusing for a guy I think. I can be really quite sharp. My sense of humour is what you’d call caustic and even though I’ll smile when I’m giving you some acidic remarks, it wouldn’t surprise me if some guys had zero idea that I was flirting with them. I’ll always retort, usually sarcastically. I love a good battle of the minds. That, to me, is my biggest ‘tell’. If I’m giving you the time of day and we’re exchanging in a game of verbal tennis that would put Serena and Venus Williams to shame, you can almost guarantee I fancy the pants off you.

Not only am I quite insulting, but my version of bodily contact is more likely to be in the form of me swatting your arm, upside the head or shoving into you than anything else. A bit like a little boy would tug on a little girls hair if he fancied her. Clearly, I’m a wee bit strange. I don’t isolate myself either. If a guy is going to make a move on me, he’d better be comfortable approaching me no matter what group I’m with. Doesn’t mean we have to stand in the middle of my friends while we talk, but don’t expect me to sidle off the corner of the room like a damsel in distress. If we’re talking one to one and we’re in a loud place, chances are, I wont even be looking at you. I’ll have my ear as close to your mouth as possible while I’m looking in the other direction. Why? Because personally, I like to use as many of my senses as possible. I want to hear your voice, I want to feel your breath. I’m not bothered about staring intently as your plump lips open for you to say something brilliant.

I’ll accept the smiling and fidgety behaviour, I think that’s fairly normal. Who talks to someone without smiling if they’re attracted to them? And who would sit stock still chatting to someone? It’s pretty rare. But it still doesn’t detract from the fact that even though you can display the tell-tale signs, you can so easily confuse a guy if your style of flirting is a little off, like mine. Unless you find someone who flirts back in the same way, and that’s where the fun is, for me anyway. We’re all human and to some extent we will all use the same body language when placed in a certain situation, but my advice to any guys out there…just make a move. Trust your gut. What’s the worst that could happen?