After a couple of weeks of feeling like I’d been through a really bad break-up and without the luxury of bending my friends’ ears constantly, I decided I had to do something positive to try and move on. I think if the last six months has taught me anything it is that I do want to meet someone special – maybe not to live with, but definitely to share things with. As I’m not going to have that with my BH, I’ve decided to get back in the internet dating game.
I’d filled out my details on one site a while ago, then when I realised how much it was going to cost me, didn’t go any further. Then I received a buy one-month-get-another-one-free email and decided to go for it.
This site was slightly different from the others I went on a few years ago, in that you get ‘matched’ with potential partners. This seemed to be a good thing – at least all the guys my age aren’t looking for 25-year-olds who want kids. So I sent a few ‘ice-breakers’ out and waited to see what happened.
A day or so later I got an email from Ian, a 54-year-old who lived about 20 miles away. He seemed quite nice – still had his own hair and obviously spent a bit of time at the gym. His email style was a bit weird though. He didn’t seem to be able to type in complete sentences and I wondered if that was how he spoke too. I know I do set incredibly high standards, but if I get emails with spelling mistakes or poor grammar I’m out of there.
Anyway Ian did put the ball in my court about arranging something, but I wasn’t sure. In the meantime I had connected with Graeme, 43. I began to get a bit picky with him too, but decided to take the bull by the horns and go for it. We arranged to meet for a drink at a pub I knew, halfway between the two of us.
I wasn’t quite sure what he was going to look like from his photo on the site, and I must admit, my heart did drop when he got out of his car and I saw he was a short, balding ginge. But I’m not that cruel to back out, so I went through with it.
All in all it wasn’t too bad, but I was home by 9.30pm, which kind of says it all! He was nice enough and did make me laugh a couple of times (always a good sign for me), but there really wasn’t a spark. Then when he started showing me photos of his unconnected Sky cable, I decided enough was enough. As we were leaving he took me by surprise and asked me if he could see me again. ‘Yes’, I replied, forgetting that I’m really not that desperate.
I’m glad I went, but do wonder if it maybe too soon for me. I came away thinking what a different evening it would have been had I been with my BH. And then that made me cry, again.
I think I may leave it a few weeks and try Ian again…
Thursday, 12 May 2011
Sunday, 1 May 2011
How the mighty fall
I’ve found writing this blog very therapeutic over the past six months so have decided I need to continue. I apologise if it goes slightly off the original subject, but sometimes a girl just needs to share.
After the demise of my affair with my ex, my relationship with my BH geared up a notch. We started meeting for long boozy lunches, turning each other on until we were exhausted with frustration and then carrying on in the same vein by email and text. I was happy though. I love getting that much attention from him, even if it is very misguided.
At lunch one day, he asked me to join him at a hotel for a night. He was going there on business, he said and it was too far for him to get home afterwards. It was a step in the right direction for me, but I did wonder whether he would get cold feet as he has in the past and not be able to go through with it.
How right I was. I mentioned the hotel a week later and he side-stepped the subject beautifully, so I left it. I didn’t want to appear desperate and I did think that if we did go through with it, he wouldn’t be able to cope with the guilt and it would all be over anyway.
Judgement day arrived and I was shocked to my core when I got a text from him at 10pm, asking me to come to the hotel ‘for a drink’. I didn’t need to be asked twice. I jumped in my car and drove like a lunatic to where he was staying.
It was a bit weird. We had a drink in the bar and then went up to his room. As soon as we got there, he started undressing, until he was down to his pants. There was no kissing, no seduction – it was almost businesslike. And then the deed was done. Very quickly. Nice as it was, no earth was moved. I could almost taste his guilt and he could barely look at me. I left soon afterwards, wondering if the hotel staff thought that I was some ageing hooker!
I then waited for the fallout. It didn’t take long. We exchanged a few texts and emails – some of them referring to that night, but not including much detail. Then at the end of the week we met for lunch, which was a disaster. He acted as if he barely knew me, had very little to say and seemingly couldn’t wait to get back to his office.
Things got slowly worse the following week. He seemed in the depths of depression, but when I asked him if it had anything to do with our hotel visit, he said no. He just had lots of issues, he said. He couldn’t share them, but they were making him very unhappy. It ended with him ending it. He couldn’t give me anything more than friendship, he said. It was too difficult.
Although we have been to this point many times over the years, I think now I’ve realised I have to stop it too, and that’s made it a lot harder. I’ve wasted enough time being in love with someone who isn’t going to love me back. It does feel like the end of a relationship, but one I can’t actually tell anyone about. A lot of tears have been shed, and I don’t think I’m done yet. Pass the tissues.
After the demise of my affair with my ex, my relationship with my BH geared up a notch. We started meeting for long boozy lunches, turning each other on until we were exhausted with frustration and then carrying on in the same vein by email and text. I was happy though. I love getting that much attention from him, even if it is very misguided.
At lunch one day, he asked me to join him at a hotel for a night. He was going there on business, he said and it was too far for him to get home afterwards. It was a step in the right direction for me, but I did wonder whether he would get cold feet as he has in the past and not be able to go through with it.
How right I was. I mentioned the hotel a week later and he side-stepped the subject beautifully, so I left it. I didn’t want to appear desperate and I did think that if we did go through with it, he wouldn’t be able to cope with the guilt and it would all be over anyway.
Judgement day arrived and I was shocked to my core when I got a text from him at 10pm, asking me to come to the hotel ‘for a drink’. I didn’t need to be asked twice. I jumped in my car and drove like a lunatic to where he was staying.
It was a bit weird. We had a drink in the bar and then went up to his room. As soon as we got there, he started undressing, until he was down to his pants. There was no kissing, no seduction – it was almost businesslike. And then the deed was done. Very quickly. Nice as it was, no earth was moved. I could almost taste his guilt and he could barely look at me. I left soon afterwards, wondering if the hotel staff thought that I was some ageing hooker!
I then waited for the fallout. It didn’t take long. We exchanged a few texts and emails – some of them referring to that night, but not including much detail. Then at the end of the week we met for lunch, which was a disaster. He acted as if he barely knew me, had very little to say and seemingly couldn’t wait to get back to his office.
Things got slowly worse the following week. He seemed in the depths of depression, but when I asked him if it had anything to do with our hotel visit, he said no. He just had lots of issues, he said. He couldn’t share them, but they were making him very unhappy. It ended with him ending it. He couldn’t give me anything more than friendship, he said. It was too difficult.
Although we have been to this point many times over the years, I think now I’ve realised I have to stop it too, and that’s made it a lot harder. I’ve wasted enough time being in love with someone who isn’t going to love me back. It does feel like the end of a relationship, but one I can’t actually tell anyone about. A lot of tears have been shed, and I don’t think I’m done yet. Pass the tissues.
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