I am sorry that I disappeared on you my lovelies. Things have been .. well complicated. I did not hang the hound-dog. Instead, I took his word for things and allowed the fun to run its course. It has been a jolly ride.
I have been spoilt and I cant remember when I have had someone look at me this way. It is as though he literally cant take his eyes off me – they stare into the depths of my soul. I feel like a fancily wrapped lolly pop being stared out by a drooling child through the sweet store window. That is right – I feel damn lickable. He says ‘I fancy the pants off you’ and that tickles me. He buys me fine wine and feasts and tells me ‘I am doing my best to woo you’. Have I snagged the remaining decent man from the everlasting drought?
If it only it was this simple.
This is the thing with the man drought. There are so few men that they all come with baggage. My last male lover had been left destroyed and wild by his girlfriend’s prevalent cheating. Before that, an Oxford don made me laugh til I cried and I thought I had scored - he later told me his girlfriend was waiting at home. Essentially, thank you for the ‘ride’, Im heading back to my nest. Then there was the French guy who had the ‘I don’t really want to see her but I am stuck in the relationship’ girl in his life. At least he lived up to his promises and left her.
I attract baggage. I attract drama. I fucking hate it.
Those of you who know me will be able to verify that my life is not ordinary. I work in a field that is full of emotion and my job, my volunteering, my study is all about trying to find rationality in all the emotion that comes with this sector – the sector that deals with crime. So when I walk away from that part of my life and head into my social life, I just want to let my hair down. I want to get loose, laugh, drink a bucket of wine and dance in hello kitty pyjamas on someone’s kitchen table.
What I don’t want is to try and counsel the new man in my life. I don’t want to give advice about techniques for ditching baggage. Especially not baggage with a broken zip and fragile sticker attached. So I do what I always tend to – I tell them to deal with it and come back when they are ready. Few return.
And this is where it stands with hound-dog. Not only has he just escaped a fresh break up but she is clinging like a sticky bug. Crying, pleading, persuading and now.. convincing him to go to a counselling session with her. Yes, you heard me. Next Tuesday, counselling, him and her. But don’t worry darlings. The session will not be about their relationship but to do with her issues with her father – how very Freudianly appropriate. The electra complex avenue of pity to try and pull your fish back in off the hook. It’s a damn good line.
Trust me. I feel for her. Have we not all been there? She is wrecked and wanting and I have been her. I have been her so many times. I can almost feel her ache and taste her tears. But it puts me in an awful bind.
So I have cancelled our date this week. I am off to play basketball with my favourite bunch of lesbians. Manly ball throwing, ass shoving, referee-demonising court tactics and hopefully a pounding three pointer should hopefully get my emotions back on track.
There will be more to this. Stay hooked.