painting and god-forsaking…

Apologies for the boring nature of this post. Nothing exciting happened today and all my thought have been compressed to diamond dust under the weight of the sadness I’ve felt due to a withdrawal from hell. Except I’m on the mend, taken the right dose again, everything is shifting back into focus.

This morning I woke up, said a blissfully fake ‘good morning’ to my mother (the sentiment existed, it just hadn’t woken in me just yet).

I had coffee, pills, breakfast (crumpets) and then set about sorting what I’d do with the day. There were two niggling concerns. 1) My head docs are coming. 2) I have an appointment at the job centre to go to.

BOTH of which I had completely forgotten the exact date and time for. So I was at a loss.

No sooner had I thought it, than my head docs came to the door. I pretended I knew they were coming all along, they came in. Had a chat. Long and short is that I’ve got to chill out and stay on the meds for a long time to see what we’re up against. Wonderful.

Regardless, that felled one bird.

The next hour a call came asking if they could change my appointment from Wednesday coming (that I now, loosely, have plans on) to Thursday. All’s good says me and up rocks another knock on the door.

Opening it to a rather funny looking bald man (nose too big for his face and fish lips) he informs me that he’s here to give my father the car. I look outside and a Mercedes is sitting by our drive.

All I can think is… my god… I wish I could key-scratch it because that tin-can could have bought a great many people a great deal more than they have.

I’m hating the fact that he’s indulging himself – I have no right to think bad things – the old man sets up orphanages in India and Africa – I think he works hard too – fair play – but that taste in my mouth wont go away. Maybe it comes from never having these things when I was a kid. You just get accustomed to being on a comfortable living and then when extra comes your way – you either respect it if its occasional – or you resent it if it becomes a more constant part of living.

My motto is – ‘we can always do more’ when it comes to helping people. Except if I really look at myself, I’m not doing much at all. That is one thing that will go onto my 101 things. Help 101 people better their lives. Ticked off after  each one, but only if I’m truly honest with myself that I’ve helped.

My bad taste was transfused with a pack of saliva to water it to palatability after my father turned and told us he was taking us for dinner. How quick high-horses trot-on.

Here is the starter.

starter - pan fried tiger prawns and sweet chili on ciabatta

And the main.

sea bass

Wonderful meal.

More driving to get home. I ignore my hatred of the capitalist pig in him, thank him. We move on.

I also did the rest of the stripping, mother and father were both impressed that I was able to finish the whole room in such a short time. My lack of perseverance is legendary. The blemishes of jobs long discarded are marked on the house like battle scars. Half-sanded banisters, half-painted doors, half-…. Well you got the joke before, but I’ll finish it… half-arsed attempts to complete things EVERYWHERE.

Now I’m in bed.

Not sleeping but drowning.

(In wonderful warm coffee to keep me awake)

Filed under: Coffee, Drinking, Family, Food, Home, Today

broken…

Something I promised myself (and I will keep that promise) was not to stop taking my medication if I starting feeling better. I haven’t. I wont. This is a slight slip, but it acts as a good indication of how seriously I need to take things.

Yesterday I forgot to take my pill. Today I forgot to take another. I told myself it was ok and it was just because I had other things on my mind. About 20mins ago I started feeling rather awful.

Its like a creature is waking up in me and my heart is fluttering in my ribcage. I’ve got this real nervous feeling and I can’t concentrate. I’m spacing out slightly too. Headache on the way.

I honestly didn’t mean to. What will I do?

I’ve set up my mobile phone to let me know when it is time to take my pill. I always have my mobile with me, so its not a hard to be reminded by it. Not sure why I didn’t already. I guess I just thought that once I got into the habit, I’d be okay.

Anyway, don’t worry about me – I’m going to take a pill in order to sleep tonight – then wake-up and make sure that I drug myself up good.

Filed under: Day-to-day, Depression, Drugs, Existence, Sad, anxiety, cracks, sleep

20mins isn’t enough…

Yesterday was a great day. Starting at 6am when I woke up, after a lovely dream about flying, I got myself groomed and then my mother took me to the church offices.

It was back in 2004 that I last walked in there – when I worked doing transcription and general admin stuff – it was a strange feeling, because the whole place looked the same. Nothing had changed.

Its an old folks home, so there are an array of wrinkly people walking around. There is a massive grand staircase. The place used to be a hospital, before it was converted by the church. Since then its been 35 years or something and they’ve now moved over to the church opposite, so this building is now just a retirement home and a children’s day nursery. Oh, and our offices out back.

I was asked to just trawl the interweb to look for funding options. We’re sorting out an intergenerational project for local people. Two tasks. Find funding for a mobile football cage. Find funding to implement a day caring scheme where young people interact with the old ones to get some connectivity.

Cue the research that says that the break down of the family unit has meant a shift in peoples attitude to age ranges and now we’re sticking with our own age group – rather than getting a more rounded example of humanity – colour me a contradiction. I don’t conform, I love older people.

I got to leave at 2pm, after picking up some more paint for the living room.

Reaching Liverpool I was maybe 10mins waiting for Eagle to arrive, which gave me plenty to whip out my script and have a scribble.

We walked about, got some wool, headed to Waterstones, then on to 3345 (which I adored).

We did some script readings. Some people read (not out-loud though) my script and hopefully they were sincere in their professed love of it.

We read some more. TurtleDove arrived. The write-in began. I just sat and nattered to people, rather than put anything productive in motion. Before long it was time to move on. We left Bluebird to finish her wine and took flight to FACT.

In FACT my mind couldn’t focus on anything but Nightingale. Its really strange how preoccupied I’ve gotten. Smitten is how I’d describe it. I can’t call it more apt than itself. I’m not blinded by obsession. I just really like her and its lovely how honest that emotion is. After a long time having the upper hand in everything its a good feeling to let things play out as she pleases. It smacks against all the advice I’ve ever given.

MEN: – You should hold on to a certain level of dignity.

Well, this isn’t too dignified, its out and out enjoyment of a wonderful feeling. I’m awkward, my mouth goes dry around her, I get nervous. What I mean is… that doesn’t happen usually! I’m in command of myself around people, I can calculate their feelings and fake my feeling to the harmony of it. With Nightingale, we’re in harmony without me reading her.

I’ll try to be a little clearer… I’m not aware that either of us is acting out our feelings, rather than feeling them. So that’s messy, not refined and tidied-up to fit the idea of what romance should be. Its sushi-romance – raw but tasty.

After leaving FACT I thought I’d chance asking her where she was. Out with some people it turned out, but able to steal herself away to see me for 20mins.

For the first 5 I just looked at her in passing and kept trying to work out where she was. I couldn’t read her, I saw no sign that might indicate a feeling. I wanted so badly to grab her and kiss her, but then… courage failed me. ME, the walking ego. ME! I was dry mouthed and timid as a mouse.

I’m not sure I can make it clear enough that this is a great feeling and that I’m not nuts. You will read this and think ‘oh IS, he’s gone all mushy over a girl’ – I’m still me, I’ve got my doubts, reservations, etc.. But this time – I think she’s holding back more than me. Its a reversal of roles. So if it goes wrong – if she turns around and ends things because I’m not what she wants – maybe that is karma working its magic on me.

THEN… In a dramatic moment of ease… she grabbed me! And then I’m certain -holding her close – that she’s in the same place, just as cautious… just as eager to have things go well, rather than badly.

We shared what will be marked as our first kiss. We were both nervous. It was wonderful. I want many, many more of them.

I’m not going to write all the things I was thinking, many of which were filth – others of which might get me the label of ‘softy’. Instead, I’ll say that I had a great 20mins but it wasn’t enough.

The thing is – if 20mins isn’t enough. That in itself is a truth worth paying attention to. If 20mins isn’t enough and I can recognize that, then its got to be more than a passing fancy. With anyone else it’ll be 5mins and I’ll already be thinking about what I could be writing, or doing, or where I could be. When I’m around her, I’m caught in a temporal distortion. There is no way of knowing how long its been and there is no compulsion to check.

So, if I’d like nothing more than to steal her away forever, hole her up in a cave of sheets and talk about poetry (without the frank want and need of libido becoming too loud and ruining a good thing), well – might that prove its worth reaching for? If only to roll with the new experience of infatuation as opposed to careful litigation.

You see, to me, just it being different means its something worth seeing through, whatever happens. After all, this might well be what books and movies have been talking about. We will see.

Filed under: Coffee, Drinking, Existence, Friends, Future, Girls, Happy, Love, Nightingale, Poetry, Sex, Women, about me, anxiety, connection, hopes, job, news, nights out, office, work , Bluebird, close, eagle, karma, kiss, magic, Nightingale, relationship, TurtleDove, wonderful, writing

Nightingale…

So, emails have been exchanged… she’s intriguing. It would appear that we’re in the same place, and had been thinking the same daft thoughts the whole day through on sunday.

However, it doesn’t halt a worried mind.

We’ve had a little chatter about the types of people that we are, how we want to move forward and things, its just not enough to dispel worry.

I had a bit of a chat with AIG about it.

<AIG> – have you got a strategy mapped out?

<jensenwilder> nope – can’t fathom her

<AIG> – muahaha

<AIG> – you’re fucked, broski

<jensenwilder>  don’t i know it

<AIG> – and not in the sexy way

<jensenwilder> no doubt

<jensenwilder> i’m not sure what to do, i think i might just let her take the lead – see where it takes me

<AIG> – be careful. difficult to regain control once you surrender it. be sure you think it’ll be worth it.

<jensenwilder>  lol

<jensenwilder> how the hell can i be sure of that?

<AIG> – be sure you THINK it

<AIG> -  because everyone you will ever love will either reject you or die

<AIG> – best case, they reject you after you reject them

<AIG> -  <– ray of sunshine

<jensenwilder> gosh, you are a pill. i love it. dear me. what is a boy to do?

And that’s the long and short of my own thoughts too. What if starting something means that I’m setting myself up for a fall?

Then the ‘what if?’ police storm my brain and I just bury my face in more reading.

What’s the point in worrying when I’m certain that things will go much better than usual. It’s not smart not to plant a seed for fear of it dying.

Or not to paint the living room now, if it’ll give me the money to see her again….

So I’m busy.

Filed under: Today

share a day with me…

After yesterday not much could bring about a better day.

You do struggle on though. lol

So you wake up to the sound of your alarm. It’s 8:30 and its time to get a head-start on a new day. You wake-up knowing that you have it in you to write more than you’ve yet sat down and written, in the whole history of this month’s scriptfrenzy.

You grab a shower, you grab some breakfast (a first for some few days), you dress yourself and then you are able to settle down.

Hours and hours pass, along with a shower of pages. You print out the so-far… you edit it (even though you know you shouldn’t), you draft in another regiment of scenes so you have something to do tomorrow. You start and finish your CV. You grab lunch (a whole pizza *burb* Such a pig!).  You put aside the writing and pick up the book you are reading.

More hours pass and your mother suggests you have coffee and take the dogs off for a walk around Royden Park. Lovely.

Photography is the order of the day as you almost trip intermittently around the park and meet lots of other interesting dogs and other walkers – one who wants you to email over several of the photos you took of her little bundle.

Back home and you get to read another few chapters in a wonderful novel as the sun sets into the sea.

Few days have had this level of contentment.

Filed under: Family, Happy, Home, dogs

liberation in migration…

This afternoon I went to my writers group and met with TurtleDove, Magpie and our new ‘fledgeling’ recruit – Swift (the long-flight migrator). After many tortuous hours hammering on plastic keys, in an attempt to protract my script, I happened out into a bright sky and a down-ruffling breeze.

Both Magpie and Swift took flight to somewhere far off, and so it left myself and TurtleDove with little to do but to grab a coffee and have a twitter about things.

We talked about scripts and poetry (Anne Michaels ‘Flowers’ to be exact, as it was the only one I could remember even part of) and our favorite types of puppy.

As ever though, I got uneasy with eating up someone’s time. So much scripting has already been avoided, because of your’s truely, that I could hardly expect yet one more to fall from the sky.

So, not long later, TurtleDove’s sensible migratory instinct kicks-in (without the need for suggestion) and I wave her on her way. [Of course, like many times before, I walk her to her stop and watch as she disappears on me quicker than I can motion a goodbye.]

Now at a loss until the gig, that will be happening later on, I wandered the streets like an urchin. Luck finds me a seat in a cafe and I’m able to imbibe another coffee and scribble some sentences down. Before long many others have had the same idea. The place is packed with all sorts of people, most probably down to the Everton match.

(As an aside – MY GOD were people happy with that result or what!?!? I’d already been accosted by a group of three guys with friendly banter and legs a-faulter)

Looking around the cafe, my attention is quickly taken by a lone girl looking lonesome.

Could I help myself? No. Whenever can I?

We’ll call this one Nightingale, firstly because ‘what she had to say was so enrapturing’ and secondly because ‘she had an aversion to one of my favorite romantic poets’. (Which was slightly wonderful, because I like a girl who can have her own opinion.)

A coy little introduction and a graceful landing was made.

Regardless, I took to the next thing on my nut-sized mind.

The inquisition began with a question about the theory of there being a god. I thought it apt to ask the most unanswerable question to test her good graces. With humor she took to it and I was soon challenged in turn… regaled with stories… and eventually intrigued by the occasional pulling back from an awkward topic.

One coffee ends up being three (all in different places) and then we’re on to 7pm.

We got lost in well-spent moments.

The thing with Nightingale is that she is too smart for her own good. Having understood that I was only interested in prolonging our meeting – she saw fit to extract every possible truth from me. Until I’m flat-out admitting that I find her attractive beyond measure. Even to the point of telling her my feathers were being ruffled by the attention she was getting from a rival male.

I don’t think I was unduly honest, though I get the feeling that I might have said a few things that would have been better left unspoken until a bit later on.

In the end, rather than being tongue-tied, I found myself spilling my guts about how much I wanted to see her again.

After all the banter, one thing is evident about this latest interest and that is that pace is to be a prerogative.

Filed under: Coffee, Friends, Future, Girls, Happy, Library, Poetry, Strangers, Women, connection, hopes, poet, prose, writing , afternoon, Coffee, coke, conversation, lonesome, Magpie, migration, Nightingale, Poetry, romantic, screnzy, script, script frenzy, stories and well-spent moments, Swift, TurtleDove, writing, writing group

In search terms…

So, this month I have had 421 views for my blog.

These can be attributed to the fact my life has gotten a lot more interesting over the last few months. So I’m building up a little fan-base. I’m getting emails. Really though… there should be more comments on the actual blog so that all see what is going on.

So this is a call for comments.

Now, a lot of people are finding this blog by googling my name – coincidentally it is Jen’sen’ Wilder, not Jen’son’ Wilder – anyway, still others are finding it via a curious assortment of key words

My favorite two…

“is soap good for frogs eyesight?” and “real photos of santa”

I have NO idea why.

Hopefully you guys are liking the writing and will continue to be amazed by the drama that is my existence. I’m loving the hours and days at the moment and I’m actually praying for many many more, rather than that the earth will swallow me up.

So having avoided the suicidal, thanks to pills and a new aviary of pals – I now need to tidy my room and get ready for a BBQ this afternoon.

p.s. I will be working out the difference between Tags and Categories soon, so expect things to get a lot more organized in the near future…

Filed under: Blogroll, Existence, Food, Friends, Future, Happy, Home, Welcome, about me, hopes, writing , amazed, aviary, BBQ, blog, comments, earth will swallow me, emails, Existence, fan-base, frog's eyesight?, good for, Happy, idea, is soap, Jensen, Jenson, key words, loving hours, organized, pals, pills, praying, real photos of santa, suicidal, views, Wilder, writing

missing trains but not opportunities…

So last night was one of those nights that I felt wonderful and everything fit together fantastically.

I was at a loss as to what to do and karma paid me for a good deed. I got a bed, no agony.

Setting the scene: It’s 10, or something stupid and Eagle has left me alone with Bluebird and TurtleDove. Bluebird is keeping up a wonderful conversation about how I should be a little more aware of the fact that most women are in need of a certain amount of ego stroking if you are going to ditch them. TurtleDove is making do with twittering about the next meeting. We move on to Magnet and settle our tail-feathers down. Before long it is obvious that Magpie is a little too hammered. The evening ends not long after – maybe 11:30 – I’m walking TurtleDove to the bus stop.

I know full well that the trains have gone – here’s honesty at its finest as I know she will read this – but I wanted to make sure that TurtleDove was ok on her homeward flight. Also I wanted to make sure that she wasn’t going introspective on us. If something was up, I could hear it because I’m a good listener. I wanted to make sure that she got the bus she needed, where she needed it and wasn’t shot at by poachers along the way. Little else to say.

And then.

With the flight of TurtleDove I was sort of at a loss as to what to do. Trains had quit for the evening and its looking pretty likely that I’ll be having to bench-up for the night and write to keep myself warm. I took myself straight on, right and then right at the end of the street to come to where I’d been last weekend. Outside Travelodge.

Can’t help a guy for getting nostalgic. It smacked a little of returning to the scene of a crime though, I was haunted by the wonderful time we’d spent in there and then the awful way that things went after she’d left. She was a great friend. A very smart soul. Still…

I walk along and spot two girls sitting on the steps outside with fags in their mouths and sullen faces. Before they spot me I take my headphones out and pocket them so I can hear if they decide to speak. Because I’m a good listener.

One is sporting yellow shoes, a pink skirt and a yellow top. Two has pink neon tights and a green fishnet top over a black vest. Both are wearing fake tan and have wonderful breasts. The first is Toucan 1, the second is Toucan 2.

“Hey there.” Toucans 1 says.

“Hey, you ok?” I ask, not really caring. (I’d planned on heading up a little to the park next to St George’s and sleeping on a bench after some writing.)

“Yeah.”

I’m not sure what possessed me, maybe a lack of something better to be doing… but I asked the question.

“Do you want to hear a story?” – So I told them how I was a lovely guy and how TurtleDove had needed protecting from Magpie (not that that was true at all) and that – because of my knightly act – I had now missed the last train to my home.

“So, like you have nowhere to sleep?” Toucan 1 asked.

“There’s some benches up there.” I said, pointing to the park and looking at the girls with the most pathetic look I could muster. I know it was shameless, but needs must in times like these!!!

“No way! You can stay with us! Come up and party!” And so the invitation was RSVPed and we were all beaming.

As a little overkill I added “Really??!? Fuck that would be amazing, I’d kip on the floor like – I don’t want to seem full-on or nuthin’.”

I know, I know. I debased myself – my linguistic skills would have worked against me here though.

The most attractive is Toucan 2 (thankfully Toucan 1 has a boyfriend to distract her) – Toucan 2 is all single, owing to an argument that cast her Absent Boyfriend to hell before they ventured out on this trip. They’d been out, Toucan 2 had gotten ID’ed and had no valid ID – so Toucan 1 and Boyfriend (i forget his name, dan or ben or stan or something) had taken the party to the rooms in the Travelodge instead – to make up for the lack of ‘thumping beats’ they plugged their MP3 players into two sets of ineffectual little travel speakers that sounded tinny and shit.

There was ‘always tomorrow night kid!’ anyway. The trip was to celebrate Toucan 2’s 18th. No ID was down to the fact that Toucan 2 didn’t see the point in learning to drive so didn’t get a provisional due to the fact that she aspires to be an air-hostess – (my god, I’m proud of myself for not being very mean to her from that point forward.)

Boyfriend tells me that Toucan 2 hasn’t gotten any good sex in ages. He tells me that I’m “fuckin’ sound” and “well funny”- his breath smells like crab-sticks. I think that any moment he might kiss me, because his little brown eyes are jabbing all over the place, like there are 10 tennis matches going on across the surface of my face. Or he’s reading hebrew or something. Part of me was thinking that it might turn into a foursome, that he might be curious or something. Heaven forfend.

2am or slightly later and I’m being dragged about by my pants and falling over an open pink suitcase in Toucan 2 and Absent Boyfriend’s room. Absent Boyfriend is a stupid dick to have given up on this girl. As much as I would never pick her myself, I can see why any regular joe would relish her. She’s got long black hair, bad tan on, but a great pair that are snuggled up in her top. Her lips are lovely, all plump and juicy. We’ve got dark eyes and straight teeth. We’ve got long legs and hardly a gram of fat where it shouldn’t be. She’s the stuff of nuts magazines. Not my type, but I’m remorseless.

So anyway, I thought I was slightly more sober than I turned out to be. They are drinking the cheapest vodka I have ever tasted and not even mixing (the angels!) – Toucan 2 and I just click and start to kiss, the other two melt away. We move to Toucan 2’s room and my shirt is off in a heartbeat. Belt off and my trousers start falling down (due to all the recent lost weight *YAY*). We neck each other and roll about for at least 20mins before she stops.

Never so embarrassed, my face is bright red as she asks me to shave! She grabs me by the hand and leads me out like a child to Toucan 1 and Boyfriend’s room, before beating on it with her knuckles and asking if I can use Boyfriend’s razor! Boyfriend relents only because Toucan 1 is after his cock (for some god-unknown reason he’s suddenly irresistible.)

Toucan 2 makes a nuisance of herself playing with Toucan 1 as I shave in like 2mins flat and then Toucan 2’s got me by the hand and dragging me to her room again having stolen a handful of condoms from Toucan 1 (to much chagrin).

The rest needn’t be specific – but there was a reason why faces were shaved and she loved the attention.

Slight confession that might blow apart my stud image – but I’m happy to do it really – we never actually ended up fucking, in fact we were both FAR FAR too pissed and ended up sleeping. There was a lot of fumbling, she was worse for wear, so I told her to take a little kip for a bit and she was out before I could change my mind.

Myself, well – I thought about some things that I now can’t remember, script ideas ex-cetera, the room was spinning so I closed my eyes. A bed for the night was secure.

I woke up at about 6 and put my shirt on (trousers are still on me and I find my belt under the bed) I dress with the light from my mobile because the curtains make everything really subterranean. Picking up my bag I just open the door and slink away. I get lost down the hallway until I work my way back and take the right instead, finding the elevator to freedom. I use my last £3 to buy a single to my home station, settle down into the train seat and almost nod off on the way home. Wonderful experience.

I don’t feel bad, she loved every moment. I didn’t lead her on and she’ll be glad I fucked off, I reckon.

Filed under: Drinking, Friends, Girls, Happy, Home, Reality, Sex, Strangers, Women, Youth, about me, bed, music, nights out, the novel, writing , about me, bed, Bluebird, Drinking, liverpool, Magpie, neon, night out, Sex, shaving, sleep, Strangers, Toucans, train, travelodge, TurtleDove, Women

explanation and exasperation…

Now there’s an offer I can refuse. Although you’re clearly a child, women aren’t toys, and that’s your total loss as I’m the best entertainment you could ever have. And I wouldn’t go to that shite-hole, even if you paid for the ticket (as any gentlemen would have done). The natives are lowering and bestial and the TV signal arrives by second-class mail. ~ resolutiongirl

With this comment its time for a bit of honesty.

I don’t think women are toys. Not in the sense resolutiongirl thinks that I do. I am quite crass sometimes, but that’s because this is a blog and I enjoy being a little brutal at times because it makes me feel less weak and prone to emotional heartache. This really would be a crappy blog if I was all sullen 100% of the time.

I’m not out to hurt people, bring women down a peg, or start any games… i just want to keep moving, keep active and keep distracted.

I’m only 23 I don’t have the answers, so perhaps I’ve still got lessons to learn, how else am I going to learn them without growing up and experiencing what people have to show me.

I want to find a few woman that I really connect with and adore. There is no harm as long as I am upfront and honest with them, as long as I say where I am at every step of the way. If they get the wrong idea, then ‘they’ got the wrong idea. I’ve not lied to anyone recently. All I want is to keep connecting with people until I meet someone that I can love.

I’m not going to sit on my hands and get all lonely waiting for the next great women to drop into my lap. What if the next one is only a week away, I’d sooner get out there and find her than get myself all upset and lonely.

The world seems a little unwise to the fact that life is for enjoying – that I’m not really hurting anyone. This is a blog for private thoughts – yes, I’ve treated women badly in the past but I’ve learned from it – but I’ve also been very lovely to women, which will come out more in the coming months as I compile my past into something more literate.

I don’t see the sense in beating myself up for a past that I can’t go back and alter. I’m getting on.

So resolutiongirl, I’m sorry to hear you don’t want to come and see me – despite the knuckle-draggers there are quite a few lovely people up here. More than I was expecting to meet when I first learnt that I had to come back here.

Do try to find a little hope in my future posts for the race known as Male. We will get better, or at least I will.

Filed under: Girls, Lonely, Love, Sex, Women, about me, anxiety , apology, feminism, reply, sorry

some people never learn lessons, other lessons aren’t worth learning…

I’ve learnt lesson in life recently. Bluebird, Robin and AIG have all given me a lot of advice. That I can’t beat myself up for being me and that I just have to get over myself and get on with things. I can’t make things better for the people in my past, I just have to move forward and stop lying and cheating people out of knowing me. Also, there is nothing wrong with getting over love by being a young man and getting solace from women. In fact, AIG gave me a song by Nada Surf recently that helped a lot. It has some great great advice in it.

Three important rules for breaking up

Don’t put off breaking up when you know you want to

Prolonging the situation only makes it worse

Tell him honestly, simply, kindly, but firmly

Don’t make a big production

Don’t make up an elaborate story

This will help you avoid a big tear jerking scene

If you wanna date other people say so

Be prepared for the boy to feel hurt and rejected

Of course the same goes for a flip of gender. I failed badly when my last relationship ended, instead of getting smart and getting it over and done with back in October, I struggled on getting more and more unhappy. More and more annoyed with her for not being lovable enough. Which is stupid because it really was my failing not Her’s.

I kept up the pretense of love so that I didn’t lose a friend. But, in the end, she didn’t want to help me and wasn’t that good a friend. She didn’t stay in contact, she was too self-involved, which doesn’t help when I am too. We always were very similar – she wont talk to people if they don’t make the effort to talk to her often and neither do I – I just give up on them.

So hopefully she’ll understand that and not hate me. Maybe she will understand that being apart is better this way because we wont annoy each other. I can get on with my fun and not have her all upset that I’m not getting ‘better’ by her standards. I’ve got a lot of respect for the kid, I’m more angry at myself for not having balls to be a real man about things. For confusing myself into a mess. I wont make that mistake again.

Throughout the relationship I just couldn’t shake the feeling that we might grow to understand each other better with time. Not annoy each other quite so much. Even tried to make her see how I thought, the process, so she could understand. Didn’t work. I hoped that she might mean a lot to me one day… but I didn’t ever let myself ‘fall in love’ her. Being too scared of getting hurt. What you don’t realize is that you hurt yourself anyway, because no one is close enough to lift you up when you are sad.

I prolonged things, I made a big song and dance number and I told elaborate stories – I lied and cheated and I’m sorry I did, because it made me feel rotten at the end. I wasted time when what I could have done is ended it long ago and maybe salvaged something from it. We could have been friends and I could have stayed in Bath. I have no real regrets, as if I did then I would be disrespecting those new connections I have made. Instead I have come to terms with it and moved on.

So this time I’m just rolling with that side of me. That I have a problem letting people get close, I put up barriers and now I wont.

I know that I can’t feel all-loving at the moment… I can have great respect for people, treat them well, care for them – but romantic love is beyond me, for the moment.

AIG has said that I shouldn’t betray myself the opportunity to find someone wonderful by shutting myself away and pining – instead I should dress up smart, get out there and take a stab at finding someone to love.

So that is what I’m doing. Not setting out to hurt, but not sparing people at the expense of my own happiness either.

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