It was Saturday night, I’d had a couple of glasses of wine and my friend and I were having a catch up. She was telling me about the ‘new man’ in her life (sounds a bit of a weird one I advised her to be cautions) and we were discussing the nightmare that is my none existent/still missing the ex like crazy love life.
We started off with her, she read me some of his messages and we tried to figure out what he mean. Yes, we are grown women but turns out when the other sex is involved you become children again. I will not comment on whether or not we analysed the meaning of the X’s on the end of the message. Then it was my turn.
I told her about an old friend who had got back in contact and who although I don’t think there is a spark I have agreed to go for a drink with. But I know it’s never going to be anything more than a friendship. Then we moved onto the guy who I fancy but who I know is bad news. We discussed whether I should have some fun, whether I could have the fun without getting hurt, and then I decided to read out some of the texts this guy has sent me.
Sitting in a box (she had no chairs) in her kitchen slowly the lights began to turn on. Reading out the texts it very quickly became abundantly clear that basically this guy just wants to have his cake and eat it and will feed me any like he likes to try and get the ‘cake’.
I had the awful feeling that I was a fool.
What was worse was the realisation that I was kidding myself. He doesn’t really care, he doesn’t really find himself drawn to me despite not wanting to. He has fed me line and line of crap and I have fallen for it.
And I can’t help but feel a little sad.
I knew there was no long term future. I knew it wouldn’t be wedding bells and a big white dress, but I thought it would be fun and I thought he liked me. Reading those messages out, even before my friend gave her opinion I was very aware that he had probably sent the same things to any girl with a pulse and I was the only one stupid enough to fall hook line and sinker for the crap.
I think I wanted to believe too much.
I wanted someone out there to fancy me.
I wanted someone out there to be thinking of me.
I never wanted him, not really. But I loved the idea of being wanted.
Only now I’m not.
I had hoped that a year in, I would be more over the ex than I am. Honestly a little bit of me had hoped that a year in I would have met someone. I have lost count of the number of people who have said “when I came out of a big relationship, within weeks I had met the man I am married to now” and although I loudly proclaimed that I was in no rush a little bit of me is.
I have done the dating thing. I was done with the dating thing. Now I’m not and god I hate it!