Tuesday 20 June 2006

When Everything Feels Like the Movies

I usually describe myself as a cynic, but at heart I am an optimist. How else to explain how I can be crushed so badly in affairs of the heart and – maybe not that week or month or year, but someday – hope and daydream on such a grand scale yet again. At what point do I learn? At what point do I stop doing this to myself?

Thursday night I went out with a guy who was so cute I could hardly concentrate on what he was saying but so clever and funny that I had to. We lingered on a street corner by Sloane Square, both surprised by how late it was but how fast the time had gone. When I got home, I was so giddy I couldn’t sleep. I thought about calling friends in the US – it would have been early enough there – but I didn’t. I wanted to hug it to myself for a little while.

Over the next couple of days I told a couple of friends, mindful that I didn’t want to have too many people asking about it when it all went (inevitably) pear-shaped. But I built the castles on air anyway, bolstered by how frequently we were speaking (very frequently).

We agreed to meet up tomorrow night, but no time or place. I haven’t heard from him since Sunday. This has happened to me once before – the choice of a day to meet but then… nothing. As in, nothing ever again. Radio silence. (Until I did the totally undignified thing – you can always count on me to do the undignified thing, particularly if I’ve had a drink or two and am anywhere near my phone, which is always – and tried to find out what the hell was going on.)

Obviously I could hear from this guy tomorrow, but I just don’t think so. This from someone whose email to me on Sunday included the phrase “…which is one reason why I’m looking forward to Wednesday."

I spent all of today at Ascot getting sunburned, checking my blackberry and phone for messages from him, picking over the most recent things I said to him, and wondering how the hell I managed to screw this one up already. I don’t want to spend tomorrow looking hopefully for a message from him, and the next couple of weeks picking over it and wondering if I should contact him, but knowing perfectly well that you can’t make these things happen. I want to wake up and have it be a month from now, maybe longer. I don’t want to hope anymore.

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