Never trust a pretty face (Part two)

So, we were back in touch. Small talk ensued. Eventually events of the past were brought up; by him initially. He apologised. I apologised (I wasn't actually sorry about anything other than letting him into my knickers, but I have a reflexive habit of returning a sorry with one of my own). He liked me, but didn't want to like me. He thought we would get along. I liked him but didn't trust him to stick around, something which he found insulting, despite admitting that he just wants to Be Alone and Focus on His Art (did I mention he's a writer with a Bukowski complex?). The upshot was that we confused each other and ourselves and agreed that Facebook wasn't the best forum for such a conversation and we should leave it for another time. We tried to move on.

Which brings me to The Fight. He announced his new life plan (based on a Bukowski poem, of course) was to be alone, focus on writing, travel in his van and fund it all by money earned through medical trials. Apparently, loneliness produces great art, the hard times are the best and tragedy can be exciting; he has no time for people in jobs they hate complaining about being bored. Just quit! Focus on your art! etc, etc. I announced that I thought that this was bullshit, there is nothing romantic and glamorous about tragedy or loneliness and that for most people, they don't have an art they can rely on and therefore have to y'know, work in order to buy food.

We haven't spoken since; he, I assume, is offended by my outpouring of scorn on his life plan and I am too infuriated by his pretentious and immature outlook to talk to him.

For me, the whole debate has raised some serious questions. Do you have to agree with someone's life philosophy to still have romantic feelings for them? And does it matter when their life philosophy makes them completely unsuitable for longterm attachment? Then finally, exactly what do I value more? Security and love? Or artistic - and therefore possibly spiritual - fulfillment and satisfaction? Answers on a postcard please, because I don't have a fucking clue. One thing I do know - I've been through hard times whilst alone before, and it wasn't inspiring or interesting or exciting; it was hell and I'd do anything not to have to go there again.

Never trust a pretty face (part one)

I got into an argument the other night with someone who I've been on the cusp of developing feelings for recently. I've know them from afar for years, and although I always found them attractive it had never occurred to me that there could be anything more to it than that. To be completely honest, I always considered them far too physically attractive for me to even consider getting to know them any better. Then, just as everything with Him was falling apart the opportunity came to get to know The Handsome One came about. At first it was just a distraction. Unemployed and heartbroken, the chance to talk about films, books and philosophy with a good looking guy was a much welcomed break from moping. It was nice to have something to look forward to. And the discovery that THO was as interesting as he was pretty was exciting too. Then something changed... it became apparent that he found me attractive too, and on the eve of my Big Trip to regain my sanity he, for lack of a better term that doesn't make me blush, 'made a move'. I dealt with it by completely and utterly rejecting somebody who at any other time in my life I would have been grateful to even talk with, let alone sleep with (although that's a self esteem issue for a whole other post).

The point is, I had a chance with THO, who at the time seemed sincere, and I passed it up because I was too emotionally raw from recent events. In hindsight I think it was the best decision - I was in no way ready for another emotional entanglement, and if I learnt anything from 2008 it was that I am no longer capable of casual sex with men I find attractive as well as interesting.

So I went away, had an amazing and healing time, and returned feeling ready to deal with the world again. Another opportunity materialised with THO and this time, I took it. I won't go into details but sufficed to say his good looks, easy charm and a copius amount of cider may have affected my judgement and the night ended in a less than ladylike manner on a sofa after a mutual friend's houseparty. I wasn't sure what I was expecting when I woke up, but the following turn of events weren't it:

1. Not only was THO no longer there, but he had moved into the mutual friend's bed and was spooning a miscellaneous blonde.
2. I left, justifiably confused and humiliated, without saying goodbye.
3. By the time I had got home and showered I received a message from him, concerned and apologetic, asking to meet him later that day. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I agreed.
4. He stood me up.
5. He made excuses and avoided me for a week and then left town.

I think you will understand when I say that after all this I was pissed off. Months passed with no contact, and then, recently he got back in touch through that most romantic and sensitive of mediums - Facebook.