James seemed like a good guy and good to chat to, I wasn’t sure if I actually fancied him though. His profile picture on Plenty of Fish didn’t really help and when I asked for a couple more they were group shots and I still couldn’t work out what he looked like. He was one for fairly loaded innuendos or changing the conversation path so we ended up talking about something a bit risqué but it was fun and not necessarily a bad thing, so I just went with it.
He had his son 50% of the time and had him over Christmas, as I had had Charlotte so the earliest time we both had available was Boxing Day afternoon/evening and we decided to meet for coffee.
When he walked in he was much taller than I’d thought and was quite good looking. He’d just come from a family lunch so was wearing the obligatory Christmas jumper and cords which gave him a boyish look like his mum had told him what to wear. He also had a very cheeky twinkle in his eye. I don’t think I’ve come across them before but these were definitely ‘bedroom eyes’. I was wearing lots of layers and had also got rained on on the walk to the coffee shop so Lord knows what he thought about me! Although it couldn’t have been that bad…
We had our coffee and talked easily about our families and work and moving houses etc (he was about to after living with his parents for a year and I wanted to) but all along he was looking at me with those eyes making me go a bit mushy. I couldn’t concentrate and, despite it being cold, I could feel my cheeks flushing and before I knew it we were kissing on my bed! I can’t even blame any alcohol!
Now, I didn’t know whether I should write this, but sometimes this is what happens on dates and I’m really not good at lying (and it would have been quite difficult to end the story if I hadn’t!). I’m also not entirely sure who suggested changing the venue but it didn’t feel odd or too fast just that it was the right thing to happen next. I didn’t question it and something in me (no pun intended) decided that I deserved a belated Christmas present and this was the best sort of present to receive.
So we had some – read ‘a lot’ – of fun. We chatted a bit more about the everyday things and then arranged to see each other soon and he left. A little bit different from the turkey curry buffets you’d normally find yourself at on Boxing Day!
We have messaged each other quite often since then and although he’s adamant he does want a relationship and not just sex, his messages aren’t necessarily saying the same thing. We haven’t managed to meet again just through lack of time and mutual availability but I’m not sure if we will. I don’t regret sleeping with James but it has definitely made me realise that, despite everything you’ve just read, I am actually looking for a relationship and for someone I can spend time with, out of the bedroom, as well as in.
I have had to be a big brave girl this week and explain to someone why I can no longer be friends with them. It was a conversation that had to happen in order for me to completely be able to move on with my life and not let them hold me back.
I have had to make some difficult decisions before with so called ‘friends’ but usually, I have taken the cowards way out and not explained the full reason why I can’t or won’t talk to them again or be around them. I have gone to all lengths to avoid bumping into them and have just wiped them from my brain as much as possible. (I know healthy, right?)
But this one was different…this one was a man who was one of my closest friends at a point when I needed all the love and support I could get. He was also someone I stupidly fell in love with and it took me nearly a year to work out that he was taking full advantage of my feelings for him and I wasn’t getting a lot in return. He lived miles away and I was always doing the trips along the motorway, I always heard from him when things were going wrong and he needed a shoulder to cry on but when things were going well in his life I wasn’t his first port of call. He was recently separated as well so we had a lot in common but the support given to each other was definitely not evenly distributed.
My eyes were finally opened in my week of hell as I realised (whilst crying down the motorway after a visit to him) that friends don’t treat each other like he had treated me. I felt naive, used and like a teenager. He had made the most of my feelings towards him, which many times he said were reciprocated, but then when things came to the crunch he didn’t want to man up and be there for me. Over that next week he just confirmed his knobhead-ness with a string of actions which showed he didn’t give a shit about my feelings at all. So I stopped talking to him.
I thought I’d got away with it and that would be that. We lived miles away from one another and wouldn’t bump into each other and he didn’t try and contact me so I got on with life and started to mend my heart and move on. Until now.
He wanted to know why I still wasn’t talking to him. He wanted to know why we couldn’t be friends. He wanted to know that I was ok and “how was Charlotte?” so I had to explain. In clear words, I had to explain why we couldn’t be friends anymore. Why I needed to move on and why he wasn’t a healthy part of my life. So I have. He wanted more explanations and had his own version of events but in the end I feel how I feel and that’s not going to change. The past month where we haven’t spoken and I’ve hardly thought if him have been good. I have managed to get back to focusing on me and my daughter and have even opened my life back up to actually meeting someone special who WANTS to be in my life. I know I will miss him at times but I value myself way more than to let myself be swept along by someone else who may not be sweeping me in the right direction. I deserve to be swept off my feet instead. A hard conversation to have but I’m very glad I’ve been brave enough to do it. At 30 I may finally have grown some balls! About time!