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Today I tried organising a date for this week with Chris, only to be told unapologetically that he’s working late all this week. Something about a big event with a visiting Mexican. He just didn’t have the time.

When I pointed out that this would put a month between our last meeting and our next potential date, his response was “Haha, I know”.

Not the response I was hoping for, Then again, I’m not sure what I was looking for. I’m almost too-.

No, strike that.

I AM too tired to keep interpreting his responses.

I just want to be with him. That’s all I want. But sometimes I don’t know if he’s able to make time for me. They say if he’s not making the effort, he’s not interested. But I don’t think it’s the case of “he’s just not that into you”. I think he is into me. And I don’t want to let re-interpretation of text messages screw everything up.

But what does it mean when he just doesn’t have time for you?

What does it mean if a month goes by without physical contact. Does that mean it’s as good as over?

Can I really be with a man who doesn’t have time to make for me?

The way forward seems blocked, like a forest that’s too full my feelings push and pull, crow and compete with one another. They tangle and pull and confuse.

Should I end it before he does?

Do I carry on and hope that, when I come out of the forest, things will be clearer? Are you supposed to keep the faith and the hope that a relationship will grow and improve with age, like a fine wine, or is it simpler than that.

Will there always be another meeting, another overcrowded week, another reason not to make the effort for me. Could I love him on one date a month?

No.

I love that a man is into his career. I need him to have drive and ambition. But if he’s not making the effort, what’s the point? I don’t think I could call him a man of mine. A man makes you feel safe and protected. Not one night a month, but all the time. All the time, even when he’s not there. When he’s not there you should be able to feel him wishing he was. Wishing he was holding you.

He has held me, and I’ve held him back. For a moment I thought he was mine.

When we sat in a beautiful little intimate restaurant he held my hand like he’d never let it go. And yet here I am, sitting alone having not seen him since before Christmas, with nothing but hurt feelings and a text which, offering no apology, simply says “Haha, I know”.

I can’t help but feel he may be serious in his own way.

But I think I may have to face up to the fact that may not be serious enough.

Because when they feel the love, they make the time.

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