Tuesday 29 May 2012

Maybe I'm too young to stop good love from going wrong

I am living across two lives at the moment. All very weird. Strange, liberating, thrilling, scary. I feel like I have got myself back on track but for a few last annoying bits of admin. If you call buying someone out of a house you both loved 'admin'.

Life # 1
Ex2 and I are taking our shared life to pieces bit by bit, coffee table by 3 piece suite. I started it all 4 weeks ago when I went to the bank. The ease with which we could undo everything that we spent years building together blew me away. I guess it's a good thing in some ways. Functional. Unemotional. Bish bash bosh. In reality it was devastating but a couple of emotionally charged phone calls and emails later it looks like we have an agreement. He wants the coffee table. A bed. A chest of drawers. The rest is mine. I don't actually want the fucking humongous tv but it is heavier than the house itself so I won't be moving it in the near future. Maybe I am naive but I think once this is all sorted, I will be overwhelmed by a feeling of liberation. I have been warned that I may feel a pang of sadness. Maybe. It will pass. In the meantime it appears that all of our mutual friends have an opinion on what we should be doing. It's funny. In a way I want and need their advice but I can't help but get the feeling that this whole thing is fuelling hours of discussion, none of it in my presence. They'll get over it. More about that another day. For now I just want it sorted. Done and dusted. I don't want it to be amicable and friendly any more than I want it to be difficult and acrimonious. It just has to be a quiet acknowledgement that it is done. Over. And that chapter is closed. 

Life # 2
You will be pleased to know there is a saving grace in this whole sorry story. In fact this part of the story is anything but sorry. Whilst all of life # 1 has been going on, our protagonist has been, quite literally, picked up, as if by one of those mechanical arms in an arcade game, and lifted into an all round brilliant place. Karate Kid is still on the scene. In fact he IS the scene. The guy who is making me feel like an 18 year old on the verge of going out into the world for the first time to put my big fat stamp on it. Okay so he is meeting me 14 years later. Slightly jaded, more cynical and with a better haircut and a Marc Jacobs' handbag but stick with me on this. It is almost as though he knew all of the areas of my life, which had become particularly shitty and is fixing them one by one. Our dates have been amazing. We are loving one another's company. 3 examples that sum up his brilliance:
- Around date 6, we went into Didsbury to get fish and chips. We stopped for a pint on the way but got side tracked by the pub quiz and ended up staying til the end and eating Monster Munch for tea
- He bought me the Complete Peanuts cartoon book from a comic shop in the Northern Quarter. An item, which has been on my Amazon Wishlist for forever
- He plays Jeff Buckley to me whilst we're going to sleep. Really.

On Monday, he gave me a label in order to conform to society's conventions. He is ticking boxes in a SERIOUS way. He is hot. And shy. And cute. And clever. And geeky.  So why am I so scared? I guess there are 2 reasons.

1. Somewhere deep down I am worried that this is masking the hurt I feel with Ex2
2. Am I pinning everything on him? Am I effectively asking this guy to save me? Would it be better to meet him when my shit is all sorted?

I don't know the answer to either of those questions. But I do know that this guy has lifted me out of a horrid place and I have come up for breath somewhere altogether sweeter. Oh, and the maths degree. He got a first. Serious geek pornage. Swoon
 

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