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.