Searching without hope

I went out on a date with a girl last night. Kandi seems nice enough, we’ve been chatting via a dating app for a couple of weeks now, and although she’s rather short and a little plump there’s something about her I rather like. We’ve a second date tomorrow, and if all goes well I imagine we may well end up seeing a fair bit more of each other..

And therein lays my dilemma : I date women to distract myself from my feelings for Inamorata, but, because I have no real love for them, they usually end up getting hurt. I don’t enjoy this aspect of dating, but without trying how am I ever going to meet anyone?.

With each new consort I learn something new about myself, but I feel as if I’m playing a game. I move up the levels, gaining experience, but in the end it’s all rather pointless – the one thing I want is unobtainable.

Time will tell just how far and in which direction this latest escapade will go, but I do wonder what’s the point of looking for love when your hearts already lost

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Booty Called

I knew Inamorata was rather unhappy at her husband for delaying his flight home from Barcelona or Bonn or wherever the hell he’d been that week, but I never expected this…..

Friday night I was sat in front of the TV when Inamorata messaged me – she’d just got home from dinner and drinks out with friends and was obviously in the mood for more, and she was far from shy about letting me know it.

One taxi ride later she was sat in my lounge sharing a bottle of wine and a few home truths. Inamorata can be blunt but luckily alcohol softens her somewhat, loosening the tight self control. We talked again of life and love, and, after she told me in no uncertain terms that there was no way in hell we’d ever make it as a couple, she leaned over and kissed me.

The sex was amazing, and afterwards she fell asleep in my arms, the soft murmur of her breath music to my ears.

We awoke early, and after round 2 I dropped her off at the end of her road.

I hope that I’m not just gonna be that guy she calls after one too many to drink, but time will tell. I’ve never been someone’s booty call before, but it sure as hell beats loving her from afar

Supplicant

I want her; she knows it, and I know I’ll never get it.

She wants me, but more than that she wants her husband.

Something inside me makes me think that in a way she wants her husband to be a little bit more like me.
But then she wouldn’t get the illicit thrill that comes with our affair.

She called it an infactuation – I see it as me loving her with all that I am because that’s who I am.

She’d complex; a riddle wrapped in an enigma; sharp tongued, blunt worded, capricious, voracious, hypocritical, indefatigable.

She wants to be wanted. I provide that.
I just wish it didn’t hurt so much in the process

Deep & Meaningful

Inamorata and I had dinner again tonight – it’s looking like this could become a regular thing again – but I knew from the moment she walked in the door that I wasn’t gonna get lucky this time.

So we chatted about the usual; work, TV, holiday plans and our respective love lives, but it wasn’t until she he’d decided she was leaving that the actual conversation occured.
We’d talked a little earlier in the evening about our differing wants and needs from the significant others in our lives, and as she made her way to the door an offhand double entendre from me about making her happy lead to a brief but remarkably honest appraisal of our situation – in essence she told me I was a pleaser, and as such destined to be eternally unhappy (in terms of us) as she doesn’t want to be pleased. The conversation ended with her bluntly admitting that, in her own way, she’s just as fucked up as me (which, if I’m honest, I’d known for a long time; its just one of the flaws that makes her so irresistible to me).

After a slightly lackluster hug I was happy to watch her leave, content as I was to have been allowed to peek a little deeper into the workings of her mind, but for once it was her who turned and moved to kiss me. As ever it was far too brief, and she was halfway out the door before she finally turned and told me that if it wasn’t for her pounding headache tonight could have gone rather differently, the sparkle in her eyes and grin of pure mischievousness leaving me in no doubt that whilst on the surface we are just good friends a fire still burns down below

She’s the one to beat

I’m now sure that if another woman can claim my heart for her own then Inamorata won’t stand in her way. She loves me and wants to see me happy (although she unashamedly revels in the attention and affection I lavish on her) but she knows she can never give me what I truely want. As careful as I am to hide it she understands that for all my bluff and bluster I’d drop anything for her and, in its way, I think this knowledge weighs on her.

In conversation today I was upfront – I can live with diminished affection between us if that’s what she believes is best, but its not what I want, nor do I believe it’s what she wants. She sees herself as standing between me and happiness with someone else, and in a way she does, but she’s also the measure that they must surpass. It may be an impossible task, but if another woman can consume my attention to the point that I no longer crave Inamoratas affections as I do now then the spell will have been broken. I’m not entirely sure the new girl I’ve been chatting to recently will pass this test, but its early days. All I know is that when I love it is with all that I am and all that I have, and such love does not bare division.

Inamorata owns me, body mind and soul, but for how long?….

Recurrent themes

Is anyone else as bored as I am of hearing me regurgitate the same old problems endlessly?.

Days off should be a highlight of my week, not a chore to be endured, but I inevitably spend the evening before drunk, trying to avoid the whirling cram of emotions, and the day itself almost always ends up being a let down, leaving me ample time to wallow in the bitter-sweet regret of another day wasted.

I was supposed to go out last night but I didn’t fancy drinking alone amongst all the happy people. Luckily a chance message on one of the dating apps I use turned into a rambling conversation with a girl who seems both interesting and interested, so we’ll see where that goes.

It’s hard to be genuinely focused on someone else when your heart isn’t in it tho, and I often feel like I’m just setting up whomever I chat to to be disappointed. I could insert essays here on the pain and heartache caused by loving the wrong woman, but if you’ve read any of my previous posts you’ll get the rough idea.

The twin urges to both distance and distract myself from she who rules my heart are slowly crystallising in my conscience, but depression and it’s good friend apathy are expert in flouting such plans as may emerge.

Have I really resigned myself to a life of living off the scraps of her attention whilst waiting for my father’s inevitable end to leave me free to seek solace in self destruction?. Possibly…

Can I really turn my life around and live out my days happy with someone who is not her?. Who knows…

I could live forever at war with myself – I’ve managed it passably for the last 20 years at least – but its not really living, its existing at best, enduring a life I barely feel

As it should be

As part of our chat last night Inamorata stated that we should be able to meet as just friends, with no expectations of anything else. Me, being a gentleman and all, asked her if this was what she wanted, and, evasive as ever, she replied simply that this is how it should be….

So it was less surprising than usual when earlier today I received an invite to dinner from Inamorata, and, intrigued as ever, I jumped at the chance.

We spent a plesent evening together, but whilst there was plenty of chat about work, family and TV there was a noticeable lack of flirting. This came as no surprise, in my head I’d hoped to walk into her house and be pounced upon, but in my heart I knew tonight was always going to be just a friends thing.

The hug as I left was a little weird, as normally it would lead to at least a kiss and more often rather more, but as I walked down the drive and turned to wave a last goodbye I felt a small but distinct sence of pride beneath the veneer of disappointment.

With last night’s pain processed and expunged in the previous post I awoke feeling pretty good this morning, and strange as it is tonight’s non-eventful meeting has also left me in a positive frame of mind. We can be just friends as and when we (or, more accurately, she) chooses, and I expect this to become the norm rather than the exception in the future, but with any luck I can remind her that this was supposed to be ‘just a bit of fun’ (her words, not mine) and as much as we both enjoy each others company, its in the bedroom that we really excel

Left wanting more

Inamorata has just left – we had a brilliant dinner, talked alot, flirted and joked plenty, and shared an amazing (if brief) kiss before she headed home, but as usual she left me wanting so much more.

It’s torture, not as intense as it used to be, but in the same vein. I want her, a deep seated yearning that I’ve learned to control through endless cycles of heartbreak, disappointment, self-evaluation and adjustment, but at its core it’s still burns as only desire can.

I’m stuck wanting the one thing I can’t have, teased with glimpses of a life that can never be, all the more foolish for opening myself up to this pain so readily. It hurts, but I can’t imagine a life in which I don’t have this ache to remind me I’m alive

Version 2.0

Alot has happened in the fortnight or so since my last post, events that have both turned my world upside down whilst at the same time bringing me almost full circle.

My week away with Kitten was a rousing success – we had a fantastic time together exploring a new country, seeing new sights and sharing new experiences, and whilst we would probably never work as a couple (the distance between us, her job and her damned cats being prime examples of the obstacles we’d face) it was fantastic to spend time with her again.

But it’s the shift in Inamoratas and I’s interactions that have been the real forward motion in my life – a change that, although unforseen, is more than welcome.

At Inamorata’s leaving do something changed. As we sat and enjoyed a drink and a little time together the passive aggressive hostility of the past months seemed to fall away, and we found ourselves laughing and joking like old times. As the night drew to a close we inevitably but unexpectedly found ourselves in that little ally behind the bar near work, passions raised, lips locked together and hands moving of their own free will – it was beautiful!. If I hadn’t have had to collect Kitten from the train station later that very evening there’s no doubt we would have ended up either at her place or mine…

The next day she slightly sheepishly messaged me saying she wasn’t sure if she should apologise for last night, to which I replied she should never apologise for being herself, its one of the manifold reasons that I care for her as I do. Over the course of my holiday we kept in contact, her occasionally commenting on the pictures I posted on social media and me checking in on how she was settling into her new role, but it wasn’t until I got back from holiday and asked to meet her on her lunch break at a little cafe we occasionally visited together that things really settled back in. It wasn’t that we did or said anything in that brief meeting, it was just that we sat together and talked comfortably as friends for the first time in a long time – a treat I thought I’d never get to enjoy again.

It was a few days later as we chatted and joked back and forth via message that she finally invited herself round to mine for dinner this evening, the chance of a free meal and the opportunity to see my new house the perfect excuse for what we both knew would be (re)defining moment in the story of us.
So after a fantastic meal and alot of preamble about her new team and position etc we finally got down to the crux of the situation, and whilst enough was said to satisfy my need for some sort of definition, enough ambiguity remained to satisfy Inamoratas need not to pigeon hole anything – a fluid state in which we exist in the moment, nothing asked for or expected, where we are happy to simply be.

This modus vivendi may not be the answer to all our problems but it does seem like a good starting point. She still insists that I should find myself someone new (because she can’t offer me what I really want) and in time maybe I will, but for now I’m simply happy to be able to concentrate on me whilst also enjoying the benifits of my newly rekindled friendship with her.