It’s early Saturday morning as I write this, though it feels Friday night still. I’ve been lying in bed the last hour trying to sleep but futilely, as I knew it would be, a thousand thoughts circling through my head, and a thousand questions without answers.
Maybe 3 hours ago my life took a turn. I made a decision impelled by pure need and acted upon it, come hell or high water. This is where I am left, beached on the shore.
To tell the story of what happened then I need to go back further, to where it all started, weeks ago. In those weeks I have often burned to tell the tale but could not - instead I have alluded and hinted at things, have written things obliquely, without being explicit. I have to be explicit now. It’s strange now looking back because it feels like a story, not my life, it feels like something with its own sense and purpose and meaning and here I am in the dead of night with my heart racing writing about it all, finally.
Whether I like it or not my life changed near a month ago when I brought home with me that woman from Madame Brussels. I wonder what might have happened had I not gone there in the first place, or if I had knocked her back as initially I intended. Would things have still found a way? Would I have ended up here regardless? I don’t know. I think perhaps had it been just another night I might be in a lesser place right now, though more comfortable. Doesn't matter, I rolled the dice and here I am.
I came home with that woman and in the dark of my bedroom had the usual experience. Afterwards I lay there and that was when it became more than usual, when the moment came innocuously that was to change my life. I did not know what to think then or in the days after but felt it hard in me. I came to believe there was meaning in that moment and in what I felt; life might be random, but contained within the chaos there is truth. I thought I had found some.
In that moment, in the dark, in my bedroom, and with a woman lying beside me I glimpsed the face of another woman, sweet, affectionate, loving, and everything changed irrevocably. I saw a message in that moment, a deeper part of myself telling me to wake up and smell the roses. The girl was not some cipher designed to deliver the message in a pretty way, she was the message. I saw her in my head and afterwards I thought of her and when I saw her next and everytime after I looked at her as I had never looked at her before.
It was powerful stuff, and powerfully scary. Imagine. I am sailing blithely through life, not entirely happy and perpetually restless, but on the surface got it good. Into this scenario is introduced this seed of wonder that I could not look away from. It grew, independent almost of me. Perhaps it was that deeper part of me again: leave it with me H, I know what's best for you, go with it, believe, hope.
It was greatly unsettling. I didn’t know how to act, what to do. I looked upon a woman I had always cherished in a certain way and knew for a fact: I like her, much. I felt it. No matter how smart you are a man there is little you can do in that circumstance that feels clever. And so at times I was foolish and at times very stiff and very often completely lost, goddammit, as if I had lost my bearings, my own true north. I was overwhelmed and the normally steady needle of the compass swung wildly around. I was in love.
I can admit to that now – for a long time I didn’t. I figured I had it under control, I’m ready for it I would tell myself, poised for the moment I could express all, but thought I had it under control - steady on H, keep the hand-break on. Truth is that from that little epiphanous moment I was slowly losing control, and slowly falling in love.
And so what, you ask. Nothing wrong in falling in love, happens every day – good luck to you. Except it wasn’t that simple. What made it hard is that A had a boyfriend of long-standing, a man I had not met but found myself liking from the simple descriptions she gave of him. Did that matter? I thought about that a lot, and knew that it didn’t. If I loved someone and knew she was the right one then nothing would keep me from her. This is the story of the ages too, reality. Nothing is set in stone, nothing is unbreakable if what you carry is true.
Still I was confused. I looked at her and admired her and loved her and wanted to hold her close and asked myself the question, is she the right one for me? For a little while I pulled back, but that created problems. The normally sweet relationship between us now developed cracks. She reacted to my actions, and I reacted to hers, and in the classic way of things we went into a spiral of action and reaction, saying things and acting in ways foreign to each of us and hurtful to the other. This caused me great heartache. I loved this girl and so I made her life more difficult: it was wrong, but I didn’t know how to right it. And I didn’t know how to act. There were times I’m sure she must have wondered what I thought of her, and on one occasion I remember the angst I felt as she accused me of hating her. Nothing could be more untrue, but I could not tell her – or so I thought.
God knows I analysed everything between us throughout this time, she likes me, she likes me not…
Then one day we had an elongated moment on a rainy Sunday afternoon, a pivotal moment we have both referred to since. We had been distant through the week but on walking into the pub she called across to me, sit here H, sit next to me. And so I did. It was lively, an Irish singer was performing, a fire crackled in the grate, friends and colleagues from work were all around us in happy moods.
A and I spoke for about 4 of the next 5 hours. She was bright and fun, in her way, yet in the initial stages there seemed something almost manic in it: I must make things right with H. I listened and responded. Later we went on somewhere else, where we sat apart from the others and spoke more intimately. At one point I mentioned that I thought I would probably leave work within 6 months, and was taken aback by her reaction.
Why would you do that? She exclaimed. Her eyes were alight with passion. Why would you leave when there is so much to do yet? She was passionate almost to the point of being angry, as if this was something she deeply cared about. I tried to answer but she blew right past me. It’s obvious the place doesn’t mean that much to you if you’d abandon it so easily. Then with a deep breath she changed tack. Her words became more personal, she described how much she had come to like me, how she had met me and had thought to herself we’ll be become great mates. She went on to explain her disappointment about how I had been lately, unmotivated it seemed, and lacking intensity. I stared at her all throughout this. She was right, I knew it, but I felt a kind of shock. I felt moved me though, and I felt strangely grateful. I admired her.
I returned home that night thinking well, she likes me, she cares for me, maybe a lot. Was I wrong to think that? It was nice. It was nice to be cared for. It was nice to have roused such passion. A few days later though we had lunch to discuss and all was different. I should have said something, but never did. It was my turn to be disappointed. She was very controlled and distant, as if guilty over what had happened or embarrassed. For myself I felt a kind of anger that she would not take responsibility for her words of the other night: she washed her hands of them, wanting nothing more to do with them. I had thought her better.
Everything went bad from there. I stewed that afternoon wondering why I should care what a 25 year old accounts assistant should think of me: though I knew exactly why. I was burning up inside from a variety of emotions. Anger obviously, and frustration. I was not myself, not nearly, and inside I had all these words and feelings jamming me up that I could not release. Let’s face it, I was miserable.
I know I can seem a forbidding person. Unlike her, expressing my feelings is not something I do well, not in person anyway. I know I can be hard to read, and my intentions unclear. I hoped that she knew that I liked her, but maybe it seemed just the opposite. I can brood, my eyes, I know can unknowingly intimidate - but it's just that I feel helpless in the grip of feelings I cannot express, let alone control. It kills, and it had to change.
Somehow over last weekend I regained some aspect of myself. You can peer so deeply into the well there is the danger of falling in. I pulled myself back. I went about my things. I looked at the world around me and let it enter me. Yes, you like her, I thought, but don't forget about yourself. Cogs turned in their quiet way in the background, that deeper part of myself doing his work again. He must have been rifling through the archives because by the time I returned to work on Monday the mantra from years past was at the forefront of my mind again: be great. Be great, H. I returned to work a different man to what I had left. And she was different too.
I returned to work and found myself as the week went on accepting my feelings for her. I had fought them all this way but now embraced them: they were good after all, and authentic. And it is pleasant to love another, to give freely of that. I felt released, and I think it showed. We had a much better week together. Until tonight.
There is no way I can relate all that went on tonight. It is too fresh and much of it too painful. Right now she is probably out still, enjoying herself and maybe thinking a little of me. I am here hunched over the bright light of my computer screen trying to make sense of things and find some solace in the events. All I can do is write them out, that's my way.
All week I had felt settled, and as I wrote previously, happy. In a way I felt liberated by my acceptance of things but I was still tethered to a post. One of the worse things in life is to feel without expressing. They seem so pure and good but if they just sit there they end up rotting in your gut, like last seasons Autumn leaves. It's wrong, you're a fool if you feel but are too damned scared to speak. And so all throughout I had looked at her and wanted to speak to her. Many times I felt like just reaching out and touching her, letting some of it out that way. And there were times when we seemed close that I took some relief simply by being gentle and warm. It was good, but not enough.
I figured I must say something to her and I figured that maybe Friday night drinks was the occasion, out of the office and relaxed. It was time to get things off my chest and tell her the truth: that she warms my heart, and that I wanted to warm hers.
There were drinks after work and for most of the evening we stood or sat in the same group in the courtyard together, making conversation. I couldn’t get her by herself though, couldn’t find the intimate moment just right. I became frustrated, as if I had a blockage in me that I must get out but couldn’t, and she didn’t make it any easier for me. We went onto a local pub and there my frustration boiled over into being pissed off, I heard some things I didn’t want to hear, was nudged by the people I didn’t want to be nudged by and off I went, feeling fucking awful. I sat in my car outside the pub for 10 minutes talking to a friend and then started the drive home, lost and pissed off.
Halfway home I pulled over. I thought for a moment then did a U-turn. I found a park in the city, and then proceeded to the bar I knew she would be at. It was not a bar I had been too before and at first I walked past it, afraid that I would not find it. Then I backtracked and there it was. Maybe I took a deep breath then. You know what you're doing? I was nervous, as if I was taking my life in my hands, but then as I climbed the stairs and stopped to let the people coming the other way I calmed. I was taking my life in my hands, but that was just what I need. It was right.
I walked into the bar looking for her, and there she was. She saw me, a big smile on her face, her hands waving in the air, what are you doing here, she said, leaning forward to surprise me with a kiss on the cheek.
What am I doing here? Good question. I had gone all that way but didn’t know how to start. In the end I just told the truth. I like you a lot A, more than I should, I said. I told her the story of that night with the epiphany. I explained how awkward it had been for me and she knew all about it. I told her I was sick of repressing what I thought and felt, and that I only ever wanted to speak authentically to her. All around it was Friday night in a bar, people everywhere drinking and laughing, and her friends doubtless looking upon the two of us and wondering who this strange character was and what was happening. Throughout it all she listened with a sweet smile on her face and at times joined in to agree with something or express sympathy or nod her head, yes it's been hard. She was great, not what I expected perhaps, but no less than what I expected either: I don’t doubt my judgement in falling for her.
Then there's the crunch, I guess. What do you realistically expect H? You've impulsively crashed in upon a private event and spilled your heart. It feels good but now is the time... She told me she was shocked by my revelation. She was attached, couldn't I see that? Yes, but there could be a million others A, but it would not matter - my heart leads, I follow. She told me it didn't matter that I was older than her, that I didn't need to wear a suit or be the super-impressive businessman around her, just be myself. She was very good. Around this time her boyfriend arrived. It was time to go, but not before she reiterated her friendship for me, told me how she had chosen me to be her great friend. She was very gracious.
I left feeling greatly relieved that I had spoken my mind but also greatly disappointed. What did I expect though? That she would declare her undying love for me there and then? Hardly. I drove home, and have tried to sleep. I still feel a little numb. I wonder what I should feel and fear when the numbness wears off it will be something very bad. I wonder what I should think too, and what I should do. I am in a state of shock and I don’t know what to hope for.
Maybe I can sleep now. I wish things were easier.
