There’s always something about a friend being so in love. So in love they gush and swoon and have to offload all their feelings to you. They’re a best friend, so you smile and swoon with them as they tell the story. About how he treated them like royalty, how he lifted them into the air as they laughed, how he whispered “this is like a fairy tale”. You both laugh about how silly saying something like that is. You play the part, as the friend waxes lyrical on how much of a man he is, how the money and the wealth doesn’t matter. It’s all about the manners and the makings, even as you raise your eyebrows skeptically. But secretly, desperately, part of you screams with envy. A tiny little voice in the dark inner-recesses of the mind cries out like a lonely child: “What about me?”.

Where is my fairy tale?
Where is my lucky strike?

I’m happy for her, I really am. She’s been through things too and deserves someone wonderful. But I can’t help feeling a pain for every point of her happiness. Each one is like a small needle-pointed stab, in how wonderfully together they are, and how lonely I am.

Is there anything harder than seeing a close friend in love while you’re lonely?

Do we realise how much our being in love can hurt those around us?

It’s a cruel irony in many ways, I think. As we gush over our hopes and dreams, do we see the pain and hurt we’re giving them? Does some part of us revel in it? Is love un-validated unless it’s hurting someone else? Some days it certainly seems so.

I had my third date with Mr. Nathan. It seemed to go well. Drinks, dinner, more drinks. He paid, and with no pressure to go back to his. A kiss as he walked be back to Holborn station was as intimate as things got.

In many ways, it was nice. We talked, we got to know each other. It was easy. It was fun.

But it made me wonder – is it just meant to be nice, easy and fun?

Are we meant to get to know each other in a slow and plodding pas des deux? Or are we meant to burn, to not stop thinking about one another? I like that things are relaxed between us, and I’m definitely attracted to him. I like, in many senses, that we’re not blowing up our phones texting back and forth like two horny teenagers. But is it possible that it’s…too easy?

By this time with Chris, I wasn’t falling so much as tumbling. I couldn’t get him out my mind. I was so caught up in the ecstatic thrill of the romance, everything was bathed in pink clouds. It’s not like that with Nathan. It’s different, but does that make it bad? Are we meant to fall fast, or take it slow?

To make a relationship work, how much feelings need to be there from the first?

It’s a different set of contradictions. He’s almost 20 years older then me, so I love his maturity and manliness. But it means we don’t have as much common ground, and his life experiences far outweigh my own. I see him as a man and I like it, but does he see me as a child? I’m trying to just go with it, to let the cards fall as they may, but it makes me wonder.

When it’s a slow-burning flame, is the fire going to last longer, or are you just delaying the inevitable? When one of your friends is so in love, and you’re feeling unsure, is it just a point of jealousy? In the game of manners and makings, he seems like a winner – but is it missing something?

How much do you need to connect for there to be a connection?


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