—41—
Reading between the lines
You might have been wondering where I’ve been these last few weeks (or not, because you most definitely have a far more interesting life of your own to worry about). But if, for whatever reason, you are just a little bit curious, here’s where I’m at.
I went on my final train date with the South American acrobat/poet (yep, you read that right) who found my copy of The Alchemist. He was tall, dreamy, could throw me in the air with one seamless swoop, and had a heady accent. You’d think I’d be all, ‘Would you mind if I stroked your abs?’ and, ‘Can we run away to the circus?’ But really, I was all, ‘What am I doing here?’ and, ‘I should be lounging on my couch with the man I love.’
You heard it here first, folks: I’m in love. And this was just the start of my undoing.
Stopping the train-date experiment has been a long time coming. I could no longer deny my feelings for Edward Cullen, or my guilt for that matter. But before I had a chance to come clean, he discovered my treachery in the most undignified of circumstances; a run-in with said acrobat at a mutual friend’s party. Justifiably shocked and beyond hurt by my deceit, there was no convincing him out of dropping me like a hot potato.
I’ve stopped sleeping. I’ve stopped eating (fresh produce; it’s all canned food and over-processed snacks for me). And I’ve stopped being able to look at myself in the mirror. He has blocked every one of my attempts to reconcile and I have been left suffused with my own regret. After fighting falling for so long, I now know how ridiculous I’ve been. How this whole experiment has been one long exercise in procrastination.
And then there’s Perfectly Lovely But Still No Spark Tom. I happened to run into him after the previously mentioned – and extremely traumatic – hot-potato-dropping incident. He deigned to ask me out again. And I deigned to shut down emotionally and pretend he didn’t exist. But three unreturned text messages and a phone call later, while at a particularly low point (‘I’ll never love again and will die all alone!’) and, against my better judgement (You really should not listen to friends who are high on post-labour pain meds), I dared to give him another go. Being rejected by the love of your life time after time, and the fear of becoming a cat lady (I really don’t like cats) will do that to a girl.
So, we met for a coffee after work. We discussed the merits of sequels, the correct placement of the apostrophe in Mothers’ Day (‘The day doesn’t celebrate just one mother! It’s ludicrous!’) and how books make us more empathetic beings. And as we all could have predicted, the date was perfectly lovely. He lured me in with his deep respect for the written word and wowed me with his literary insights and social commentary. Tom is smart, attentive, kind and classically good looking. He is like John Steinbeck: one size fits all. But he just isn’t Edward Cullen; the man who’s harder to crack than a freshly shucked coconut and who has worse taste in books than my second cousin’s twelve-year-old daughter.
Suddenly, everything seemed so blatantly (and almost uncomfortably) clear. Ever read Enduring Love by Ian McEwan? I have been re-reading sections of it on my way to work. In it he writes about only discovering love is a gift once it’s gone – and so we should always fight for it from the beginning. Don’t you love it when a book just seems to get you?
This can’t be the end to our star-crossed love story. I will find a way to win him back.
Until next time, my dears.
After all, as the other Scarlett O’ once said: ‘If he’s forgotten me, I’ll make him remember me. I’ll make him want me again.’
Scarlett O’ xx
Leave a comment (1271)
Martha Stewing In It > Grass is always greener on the other side, hey? I hope it’s not too late for you two!
No offence but … > That’s what you get for lying to someone you love.
Stephen Prince > @Nooffencebut … Ah Stephanie, I knew I could count on you for a snarky comment. PS I’d never lie to you ;)
No offence but … > @StephenPrince, you’re a creep. PS Is that even your real name? I can’t find you on Facebook.
Stephen Prince > @Nooffencebut … Now who’s the creep? Stalking me online! And yes it’s my real name. I just don’t have Facebook.
No offence but … > @StephenPrince, Pfft … I couldn’t care less. Just checking you weren’t a complete weirdo.
Tully McGregor > Go get him, gurl! And be sure to keep us updated.
Cat in the Hat > Took you long enough. PS @StephenPrince & @Nooffencebut … love watching you guys flirt! ;)