Friday 15 January 2010

Relationships part IV

Yes, you read that right, part IV (4, four). I'm omitting part III for now because it's passed in a bit of a flurry and also because I think part IV is more important for my emotinoal well-being right now.

Things went well with the girl I met before christmas. We stayed in contact through December, met up a few times and grew closer. I've convinced myself that being unemployed and living with parents is a good thing as it allows me the geographical freedom to pursue opportunities wherever they pop up so for the last two weeks I've been on work experience as a newspaper sub in Sussex and, following an offer from my beloved, I have been staying with her, as she lives closer to my new temporary office than my parents.

We got off to a good start and were happily co-habiting: sharing the cooking (once her work-mates had convinced her it was the right thing to do) cuddling on the sofa in front of Fred and Ginger films and taking it in turns to make the tea. I left her flat last week on the wings of love and couldn't wait to get back to her on Sunday evening.

The weekend passed with a mixture of tedious chores and numerous back-and-forths via text with the only person I wanted to be with. Sunday rolled around and eagrely I packed my duvet (I've been chivalrous enough to accept a place on the sofa-bed rather than push my luck trying to sleep with her at this early stage), shirts and shoes and set off. On arrival I was, dare I say, lukewarly accepted and took up station on the sofa with some reading I needed to do while she finished the innordinate amount of work she has now that January had started.

Goodness knows what happened but the dynamic of our relationship had changed already. Like a fool, I put it down to anxiety on both our parts and expected it to pass in a couple of days... only it didn't. Late nights working on her behalf all week meant that I was sat at (her) home twiddling my thumbs and making skype calls to the US (more on that in another post). The week went by and we seemed to drift further apart. Physical contact almost ceased and every time I went in to kiss her she'd turn her cheek and settle for a quick embrace before parting again.

The whole week I was doubly anxious about an interview I'd had the week before, which didn't help matters of congnitive clarity or marital bliss.

Last night, before she left work I got a text cancelling our evening cinema plans that I could have read one of two ways: 1) She wanted to spend the evening in and have some quality time to repair our waning relationship, or 2) She was breaking up with me.

It's been a while since I've been on the receiving end of the "It's not you, it's me" spiel and by god does it hurt. She went to great lengths to tell me how 'perfect' I was and how her 'wishes had come true', which, as you can imagine, doesn't make the truth that she's breaking up with me easier to take or, indeed, understand.

Why, then, if I'm so perfect, do you want to end it?

Earlier in the week I may have antagonised the situation by calling on her housemate when I was fed up of watching TV or reading and, in hindsight a stupid idea, asking about my relationship predecessors. The answer I got was a curt "You should be asking her", a logical response but not a helpful one. Needless to say I brought the subject up later in the week and was told "Exes are exes for a reason". Again, logical but not useful.

During our heartbreaking honesty session last night we talked about how little we knew of each other, a fact I was well aware of and one that I reminded her I sought to remedy by asking her about her and wanting to meet her friends etc.. Is it my fault she doesn't want to open up? What more could I have done? I have been courteous and unpressuring the whole time we've known each other yet it seemed that I was to blame for wanting to know the person I now formerly saw as long-term relationship material.

She said the "The zing has zinged", which reminded me of a Tim Minchin Lyric: "I called my girlfriend up on the phone and said 'Hey, g- girlfriend what's g- going wrong?'; She said 'I'm breaking it off with you I feel as if the m- m- magic is gone.'" I resisted to urge to paraphrase Mr Minchin with his lyrical response: "'Hey baby what 'you talkin' about I thought that everything was just fine?'; 'That's exactly the point, I just get so annoyed how you're so happy all the time'".

All this can be summed up in a human trait I've observed so often in failed relationships and one that I swore I would never let happen to me: a breakdown in communication. I can't help feel that If I'd raised my concerns earlier in the week that we could have done something to salvage the relationship and I'd still be flying high, resloved in the knowledge that although I'm still terribly Poor and Unknown, I can sleep soundly at night knowing that someone, somewhere wants me for who I am, not what I do (or don't do).

So it is with a leaden heart, chest pains, weak knees and wet eyes that I try to make sense of it all and hope that I will one day understand why she just wants to be friends. She explained that friends are far more valuable, a sentiment that I wholy endorse, but it doesn't change the fact that I didn't (and still don't) want to be friends with her: I wanted to be her boyfriend and she my girlfriend.

Time, as ever, will be the healer and given enough of it I know I'll pull myself together. She's not the first girl to break my heart, nor, I fear, will she be the last. My greatest hope now is that I learn something from this experience and that we can continue to be friends. On the drive to work I mulled over all the other women I've fallen into the 'friendship group' with and, in hindsight, maybe that's better. Right now though I've got a lot of drinking and crying to do.