I grew up with a lot of mean people. Unaccepting parents, fair-weather friends and judgemental, repressing teachers.

As someone who loves, quite possibly lives, to create and express themselves, I’ve always been drawn to the extraordinary and the alternative. Music, art, writing…I devoured it all as long as I can remember. Of course, in an enforced imprisonment of boarding school which included periods of routine social torture by dickheaded staff, new and fresh ways of thinking were not always welcome. Sometimes it seemed having a brain with an independent thought wasn’t welcome either.

So I developed a thick skin, a fundamental phobia of rejection, a loathing of betrayal and an acceptance of being alone.

Friends would turn on you, family didn’t understand you…I began mentally trying to come to terms with being alone. I thought I was just one of those people who didn’t deserve to find someone special. That I’d always be the freak, the mistfit and the outcast.

Moving to London, I began making friends. Not the kind who would drop you like a sack of turds, but the true and lasting kind.

Then I began meeting guys. My first few attempts there didn’t exactly work out as well, but I think it lies at the heart of why I’m so scared of Chris walking away. I fear the rejection coming back.

I feel so lucky to have great friends, fun housemates and workmates I mostly like. I feel almost incredulous that stunned that someone I find as attractive as Chris could like  me back. Or seem to. It’s like love and romance were these beautiful, golden things reserved for other people. Something that I could never even dream of happening to me. Mind you, neither were good friends.

But I’ve tasted it now, and it’s too late to go back. I know what I want, and I’m emotionally open enough to welcome it.

But the price we pay when we’re open enough to accept a man into our lives, is the fear of losing him. And I fear Chris walking away without a word. It’s happened before. The terror of the betrayal. does it ever go away, or is it as engrained into a relationship as the simple pleasure of being together?

People leave each other all the time. And they say now that nothing is forever. What does it mean when you swear off the idea of love and forever, and then the possibility suddenly opens up?

Does forever still exist?

And more to the point, can love still flourish in the age of iDating?

Most of our dreams end with our childhood. Even more die off in adolescence. But when one suddenly becomes a possibility in your mid twenties, does that mean it can become a dream come true?


3 thoughts on “Not for me…

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