So I decided to take the role at agency 1. I start on Wednesday.
Holy Lord I’m terrified.
When I said no originally and the man who will be my line manager called me in order to try and change my mind it changed everything.
If it hadn’t been for that phone call, then I would have been on an entirely different journey. Isn’t it odd how life sometimes seems to rest on those moments which turn us down corners which we never expected?
I just pray that I’ve made the right decision. If I’ve not then this could be the thing that breaks me once and for all.
I went out on Friday evening to a party at the new Devonshire Club near Liverpool Street. It was very chic and I met a man there. After some talk and wine, we went next door to Sushi Samba and from there back to his house. I say “house”, it was some sort of palace by London standards, complete with library and drawing room. His bed was enormous and like falling asleep on clouds.
We didn’t have sex, but I did sleep with him, if you get my drift.
He’s a very prominent GP in Chelsea, and easily the most well-connected man I’ve met in London. He loved my writing and spoke about the authors and agents he would have to introduce me to. It was like all the things I could ever want in a man had suddenly manifested in this person. And he’s besotted – “how did you sleep?” and “sending you kisses from bed” type besotted. Power games and plays are simply not entering into the equation, which is a welcome relief. He is very wise and extremely clever.
And yet he is more than 20 years my senior, and I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t concern me. From both sides.
Will he think I’m a child one day? Do I want an older man?
On the taxi ride to his palace, he even made jokes about me getting married and moving in. He even made them in a far more sober state the next day on the way to the station. I like him, but such things naturally make me slightly uncomfortable. I’m all for moving quickly if you both like each other and the blocks are all falling into place…but there’s a limit.
Today at yoga on the mat next to me was a gorgeous young man about my age. The muscles rippled on his arms and chest. He was so beautiful, when he smiled over at me I felt a warmth spread through my chest. My older gent is very handsome, but I would have to accept that I’d never get to have that feeling of lying with a man in his physical prime. Older men can often provide a wisdom and serenity which youths my own age just don’t possess. But…I don’t know. We can’t have it all I guess.
He could also provide connections which previously I could only dream of. But, of course, that is not a reason to be with someone.
I wanted my life to change and now all that change feels like it’s rushing me forward to places which I can’t see. To ends which I don’t know are right. Part of me wants to stay hidden in my room; concealed in a place at least I know if safe. To emerge sometimes feels frightening due to my chronic fear of failure. I worry about not being able to be the best. I worry about disappointing everyone, most especially myself. I worry about pain and frustration; emotions which I am not good at dealing with.
But really I know that there is no choice, I have to move forward. Into the unknown once again.