welcome to my world

So I've written a note to my ex today:

"So I've been thinking about the message you sent the other day. Maybe I was being a bit harsh in not talking to you. I've moved on from everything and am happy. You contacting me out of the blue wasn't very fair - not in the light of everything.

So I no longer have your number (hence the email) but if you feel that you finally have the courage to actually give me an explanation for everything (cos lets face it you never made it easy on me, and no excuses please, you're meant to be a grown man) then you can. I don't want to go over old ground and cannot guarantee how I will react, but you sounded like you needed to get something off your chest.

Maybe its wrong of me to be contacting you. And maybe you should never have contacted me. But maybe you need to do some redeeming and maybe I shouldn't deny you of that."

I haven't sent it. I really want to. But part of me is screaming no, let things be. Sigh....

So that was the headline one some junk mail I received today. Felt kind of fitting considering all the thoughts that have been going round in my head lately.

So I've done all the life changing things this year. Split up with my boyfriend. Moved house. Got my social life back. Rediscovered myself. Quit my well paid but crappy job. Got a new job. Booked a ticket to America. Stepped out of my comfort zone at least once a month. Got back into the music scene. I could go on and bullet point them all but I won't. Not right now anyway.

So what else is there left to do? Well the year is already half over, and yet to me it feels like it's only just started. I guess this is a good thing, to be so optimistic.

One thing that was travelling through my mind yesterday was the whole 'monster of my own making' thing. A conversation I had with some former colleagues just unwillingly sprang into my mind. How I thought most artists, musicians, writers, poets etc etc were tortured souls. How their creativeness was an outlet for all those emotions stored up. Or that sometimes writing a world of fantasy was just a way to escape the real world. I don't know if that's what I truely believe but it has been a theory that's been stuck in my mind for a while. They seemed to think it was odd. Maybe it was. Or maybe I was just projecting myself onto situations again.

It's weird. I had a "normal" childhood, whatever that is. Well lets just say I had a happy childhood. My parents are still together and my siblings, as different as we all are, seem to be quite close. Or so everyone tells me. I guess we are just all naturally family orientated - growing up in a house full of all sorts of random people made us all club together I guess.

Anyway I could've done anything at school. I wasn't a genius or anything. More of an all rounder, but I was good at the stable subjects - Maths (which I loved and felt like a total geek for doing so), english and science. I hated Drama. But my passion was always music and art. I would have gone on to study music further, had I not engrossed myself in rock 'n' roll and completely misunderstood the importance of Amadeus's private life to his work. I got bored with theory and quite frankly, knew I wasn't good enough. And they always wondered why I played jazz so much...

Anyway so many were suprised when I chose to go to art college. Like it was a bolt out of the blue. That I'd never get a good job from it. And I guess part of me never knew where it came from either. Liked I'd a waved my finger over a prospectus and gone, yep, thats want I want to do, on the first course my finger touched.

Looking back the signs were always there. I had every craft kit you could imagine. I always drew out my bedroom on graph paper whenever I wanted to change it. And once I even found myself drawing scaled cross sections of things I'd made out of mechanno.

So where did this person come from? Why do I feel so confused about little things? Did all those years of painting create this tortured person I have become to love and yet sometimes loathe? There was certainly no event in my life to trigger it off. Not that I can recall anyway.

If I hadn't chosen music or art, it would certainly have been maths. I loved solving things. I even loved algebra for God's sake! What would have happened to me if I'd gone down that route? My whole life would be different...

So maybe was wrong. But painting with music blearing out of my headphones was always theraputic for me. And now I design for a living, it is somewhat a stress. But the need is still there.

I can't help but hope this is all building towards something.

So I've discovered this site - it's what started up by obsession again - where you can watch old tv shows online. Simply can't get enough of it. So many things I adored I can watch at a click of a button. Yeah the quality is bad and the sound terrible but I love it and it's kinda making me relive my teenage years. Figures, considering I feel like I'm going through 'teenage years phase 2'.

So anyway, I haven't been on it for two whole days, so I'm proud of myself. As a kid I would watch endless reruns of my favourite shows just to make myself feel better. Kind of like eating a bar of chocolate when you're down. Only I would watch episodes at a time, which probably coincides with my occasional bouts of insomnia, and end up ignoring the outside world for a while. Anyway I got over that obsession a few years ago. I even managed to not go through it during the split. In fact I was so determined to not relapse during that time, that I convinced myself that I could get through it alone. And just when I feel like I'm over the whole relationship meltdown, it flares up again. But I beat it before. I'm certainly not going to let myself get too absorbed this time. Besides there are too many other things going on in my life right now. I might miss something if I stop looking.

So I'm back on the drink. Still feeling odd.

Met up with Possible A. Not sure what to make of it all. He was nice and we talked about all sorts of things. There were a few awkward silences, which he took to think that I was nervous. I couldn't say that no, it just made me realise there was no chemistry between us, despite getting along. I don't think he thought so. We'll see.

And then I felt bad because I met up with Bud afterwards and we had a great time. Talking to him is so easy, no awkward silences there. Sometimes it still amazes me that we've only known each other for a couple of months. Other times I just feel bad. I couldn't tell Bud I'd just been on a date. Don't know why. Maybe because I didn't want him to think I was using him as a crutch of some sort. I'm not. But I did tell him I miss male company, to which he said he does too. We joked about how it was a good thing for me. Maybe not for him. He did keep saying I should meet his mate Adam. Despite the fact that it sounded like a great idea (and Bud seems to have good taste) I couldn't bring myself to agree.

Anyway I'm out with Possible P tonight. Feeling a bit more hopeful about this one. Still not sure what to make of it all. Or why I'm doing this. But I feel I need to get back out there, even if I don't know what I want exactly. But maybe that's the point...

Mr H asked me if I'd ever asked myself the question. He was sitting opposite me at the table, eating the food he'd bought us. I told him I was a social drinker. He said you only get social smokers. I told him I didn't agree. I don't wake up needing a drink. I rarely drink at home. When I go out I only have two or three drinks at most. It just happened that the rare times we'd talked about it I'd been out on a celebration the night before. That and the fact that he drinks way more than he thinks he should - and would never admit it. Maybe he was projecting himself onto me. I went along with it just so I could spend time talking to him. I still have that niggling thought in the back of my mind...

In light of recent events, I decided to not get drunk for a while. Not only was there the incident with the Other One but in a recent fit of despair I called up Buddy. He lives down the road. We went to the local. I ended up telling him about what happened with the ex, despite not wanting to. I liked the fact that Buddy didn't know him, never met him, never would, didn't know of his existence apart from sweeping comments in passing conversations. But the ex was on my mind. Foremost for contacting me out of the blue. He said he wanted to talk - I told him where to get lost. Politely though. I knew that would annoy him more than me providing some sort of emotional response.

I didn't project any of this onto Buddy though. We had a great night. Chatted until they chucked us out. Mainly about the usual, though we did discover some new things that we have in common. We agreed to see a film in few weeks. I like Buddy. He's so witty and lighthearted about everything. He makes things seem simple and uncomplicated. There's more than meets the eye with that one I'm sure, but I enjoy the easiness at which we interact. I wish I fancied him...

We parted ways on the hill, despite me hinting heavily that we should carry on drinking for no other reason than we could. And we'd had fun. We don't live more than five minutes from each other, yet we have yet to visit each other's places. I find this odd. And yet it's just another thing about Buddy that I like. He keeps himself guarded and rewards me occasionally when I break through his barriers. I can't help thinking that part of me might be disappointed if I ever got a full showing of the 'real buddy show'.

As I left Bud in search of home I happened across another gentleman. Young, cute and slighty odd set of clothes. I was merry, what can I say. I didn't mean to start talking to him, and ordinarily I probably shouldn't. But he was nice, made sure I got home, and surprisingly we had a lot in common for someone I'd just met in the street late at night...

It was this that made me stop going to the pub. The Other One told me it's my holiday - I'm allowed to drink. I just felt like I was being too promiscuous, by my standards anyway, whatever they are. I didn't tell him that. I thought things would get either better or worse after the incident. But the fact that it's just stayed the same tells me more than he has ever been willing to give.

So with Mr H in the background, The Other One will soon fade I'm sure, and I've got a date tonight with Possible A. Not sure what's going to happen. Not sure I want anything to. Feel like I should get back on the drink again. Like I said I feel weird.

I feel weird. I seem to be getting back into some old habits that I never had when I was in a relationship. I guess I just developed new ones with him.

So I'm back to obsessing again. It's taken me six months to finally be able to watch something with a little semble of gushiness that makes you feel gooey inside. Still not okay with the public display of affection scenario... In fact I know I will never be okay with that, single or not single....

So yeah and along with the obsessing comes the addiction. My addiction to the internet is gripping me like a vice right now. And to think I had all these things planned to do while I'm not working... It sucks. Why did I ever allow myself to get absorbed into this again? Then a part of me tells me it's okay I'm allowed to do what I want when I'm on holiday. Part of me feels bad for wasting it. And it's ruining my sleep. My back hurts from sleeping funny. I don't go to bed until like one or two, then wonder why I sleep in so late.

I'm beginning to think it was wrong of me to give up the drink for a while....

So in the light of day you'd think things might be clearer. They are. And they're not.

The ex boss, Mr H, I've come to decide is not a possibilty in the dating stakes. Not this side of new year anyway. I love him, deeply, but as a friend, whom I miss greatly. And yet I still can't bring myself to call him to let him know... I hate my stubborness sometimes...

So that brings me to the other dilema. The Other One. Also an ex colleague (I'm starting to see a pattern here, which I don't like. And to think I once had a policy about dating people I work with. It also makes it sound like I don't have a life outside of work which simply isn't true...)

Anyway there's always been a spark between me and the other one. But due to complications, it has never happened. Just when I thought something was going to happen, it didn't and I was back to thinking he just didn't understand. I was dropping hints left right and centre. I didn't think I could be anymore obvious by inviting him over and telling him the flatmates were away... He never came round. Stupid man.

I came to a decision a few weeks ago. Enough was enough. I won't entertain his games anymore. I was fed up of the chase - it wasn't exciting and it certainly hadn't got us anywhere. Besides my work rule came into force and considering he wasn't making a move I decided to call it quits.

That only seemed to make things worse in a way. I stopped contacting him un-necessarily and yet maybe he thought I was playing hard to get. He just kept contacting me.

Things finally came to head, as I thought they would at some point or other, at a work function. We both got incredibly drunk... I know that sounds bad but we didn't go there. It just gave us an excuse to finally get some of that sexual tension out of the way. I thank God that no one at work has the faintest idea.

Anyway he was the perfect gentleman and not the least bit selfish. It was all about me, he said. I felt adored. No man has ever wanted to give me so much before... It's a bit overwhelming. And yet I feel strangely content about it all. Nothing untoward happened. We had fun. We enjoyed ourselves.

And now? Nothing. He still contacts me. I merely respond back in my normal fashion. I mention the fact that we can't talk about anything important unless we are drunk. He tells me work sucks without me and yet he's still thinking about leaving the country and heading out to his place in the sun. I can stay in his spare room apparently...

So I have a few dates this week. Neither guy is remotely connected to work - current or old. Kind of intrigued. Kind of not bothered. I need a distraction. Where is my kinght in shining armour when I need him?

So life has changed somewhat. Good, better, worse, different? Who knows?

I took a walk today. Felt like the longest walk in my life and yet it wasn't enough. I put my music on shuffle, turned it up as loud as it could go. The stroll down the hill made me feel like John Travlolta, my dance to the music only invisible to those that could see. Felt like singing out loud; felt like running as fast as I could go. But I did neither. Just hurried along as though my life depended on it.

A dose of loud music is supposed to be good for you, so Feng Shui says...

So I headed for the river, took the long way round. For some reason I felt the need to be around people, as much as I hid from them by blocking out their sounds. Through the high street, past the park, hoping that I would bump into some wonderful stranger who could sweep me off my feet and whisk me away from this.

Part of me wished I hadn't cancelled my date for later, but it just didn't sit right, meeting a guy I barely knew when the sole reason I headed towards the river was to 'bump' into someone I did know. It was stupid really. I don't know what's come over me. All this need to see people, be around those who show me any attention.

I don't know how or when this attraction really started. Maybe it was always there, in fact looking back I've always been aware of it, just not of its magnitude until today. I always thought, no I always said, that I knew he would be a great friend of mine for were he not my boss. "Don't mix business with pleasure" ran through my head. For a long time I guess...

But he was the only one who was there for me. The only one who noticed that I wasn't me when it all went wrong. And I know what you're thinking - that he's your boss he's meant to notice, but when you have a boss who doesn't work in the same building as you and only see once in a while, it kind of touched me. After all no one else who worked with me noticed...

He was there for me, listened to me babble, held me when I cried. My voice of reason. My outsider looking in when I got too close to see. I miss him.

Maybe that's why I headed to the river. I knew the chance of him being there was remote and yet I headed there anyway, his voice echoing through my head 'I was drinking by the river on sunday and thought it would be funny if I bumped into you...' If he didn't have a girlfriend I would wonder why he said that... But who am I kidding? I still wonder why he said that.

Part of me thinks I'm just confused. Scrap that I am confused. Because he was there for me in a time of need, have I mistaken his concern, his support for something more? I've never got that vibe from him, other than his friendship, so why do I question it? Why are these thoughts running through my mind? I don't want to feel like this.

Another part of me wonders whether it is just another need that I am trying to fulfill - the need for male company. It's been following me around for days. The tomboy in me never goes away and the over-abundance of female friends is starting to overwhelm me. I just want to catch a football match, drink a beer and shout and cheer at the tv...

But no matter how much I walked, how many peoples benches I sat on along the way, I just couldn't shake the thought of him. There are other men in my life right now and yet they all barely got a look in, in my mind.

So I didn't see him. I knew I wouldn't; didn't know what I would have done if I did. I knew it was stupid. But I can't help how I feel. And the walk, wore me out though it did, didn't serve its purpose. The only thing I got from all this is the one thing that I already know. That he is my friend and I miss him...

I cried today. I thought I was over it. Strike that, part of me thinks I will never be over it. I can't believe its been 3 months and yet its only just officially over. It was over long before he cheated I guess; long before I chucked him out; but the ties to properties you share, possessions you split, friends who divide, never make it a clean break. I wish it had, maybe life would be easier now.

It's stupid really. I've moved on just as he did before he told me it was over, and yet it still manages to upset me even now. He was a bastard plain and simple. Never taking any blame or responsibility for what he did, and yet why I am the one suffering? He acted the child, spread the lies and crucified my world. Funny how the innocent ones are always made to suffer and those without a conscience sleep well at night.

I had another nightmare last night. First one since the weeks surrounding the split. Its a recurring thing; one I've had many a time before I even met him; yet its still something that bothers me. It started as a tortured soul looking down at me.... now I wonder if its someone sent to watch over me. My dad called her Gloria. I always felt like it was a man. The name Dave springs to mind, which is ironic. The only Dave's I've ever known have been exs', one night stands or objects of my affections.

Well I kinda know the reason why I'm upset today. A number or reasons actually.
One - hormones.
Two - relief that its finally over and he can't hurt me anymore.
Three - I fancy someone else and its really confusing the hell out of me.
Four - said bloke likes me back and wants to make a go of things.
Five - there could've been a thing with me and said bloke before the 'bastard' came onto the scene which makes the whole thing worse.
Six - I'm not sure I should even go out with 'said bloke'.
Seven - I still want to scream to the world what 'bastard' really did without losing my dignity...

I just hate everyone thinking he's a good guy when he's not. If he made a mistake, owned up to it and apologised for it then yeah, I could forgive him. But he didn't. And it wasn't just one mistake. And it's what he did afterwards that makes it all worse - and why I can never forgive him.

I wish this lump in my throat would go away...