Today I heard that Mr. Ivan, my American lawyer, is coming to London.
Coming to London…with his partner.
As I write this I’m still in a state of numbness. I don’t know what to do, say, or think. My first action was to bolt down the stairs and frantically bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Thank goodness I have 6 housemates, or my svelte, toned figure would have evaporated long ago.
I knew he had a partner, a boyfriend, but somehow I just hoped. I stupidly, naively, childishly hoped that by the time he was coming to London it would all end. He would be free and we could meet up and begin falling in love properly.
I just have this strong feeling that he is the one.
Although most of our correspondance has had to be written, I’ve never come across someone who seemed to understand or entrance me like he does.
We’ve agreed to meet up as friends when he arrives. a meeting I’ve requested doesn’t include anyone else from either side.
“I’ll see what I can do” was his response.
I know his confession that he was with someone should have been the alarm; should have been the moment to sprint for the exit. But, unfortunately, love doesn’t work that way.
Not when we come across someone who is such a perfect match, who despite their myriad of faults is still the one who makes your day that little bit brighter, even if it’s just sending you a text message to say they think you’re beautiful.
But, did any of it mean anything to him?
There’s a connection there which even he has admitted feeling, a feeling which runs deep and strong. It’s more than wanting to meet up and have sex, it’s more than just being hot for each other. It’s the feeling that I’d like to become a boring old couple with him.
Should I meet up with him, or is that a huge mistake?
As pathetic as it is, as devastated as I feel, I still continue to hope. I hope and pray that somehow it will all come right. That he’ll move to London. That he’ll ditch the partner. That we’ll fall madly, passionately, hopelessly in love and live that sought-after happily ever after.
But the hardest truth of life is that some dreams just don’t come true.
And yet, perhaps we’re right to hold onto that faint, glimmering little drip of hope which always seems to seep through.
Because it’s the hope that allows us to love again.