So here it comes, the big crescendo… part 2

Posted on January 13, 2013


On Friday I met up with ‘THE GREAT LOVE’. A guy I have held a deep and great affection for, for nearly 6 years. But we’ve never been able to make it work.

And it was like a dream.

Everything clicked into place. There was a level of intimacy and realisation and hindsight that we’d never had before. We’d both grown up a bit. We were re-ordering our needs, were stronger and more honest than we’ve possibly ever been. It felt like our true selves were possibly meeting each other for the first time. No insecurity, no false facade, no passive aggressiveness. He apologsied for repeatedly touching my knee as we chatted, and I talked about my dream of us being platonic and patient and caring toward each other, something we’d never ever managed before.

The whole night feels like a massive blur now, but i’ll try and piece it together as I remember it. Some of the following might not be in quite the right order, but you’ll get the idea I think. There is no creative license.

He told me that if we ever got together that would be it. So we agreed we couldn’t get together until it was really the right time. I said I didn’t think it would ever be the right time, that we were out of sync in life. He looked sad.

When we’d met in Greenwich in May he’d gone home telling himself ‘don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up’. Then realised pretty quickly he wasn’t ready. And telling me would have been too hurtful. You have to remember what I wrote about him here that makes empathy, social interaction and communication somewhat challenging for him. But he said its just me that he behaves like this with. That with other girls he’s fine, and does normal things and behaves / communicates in normal respectful ways.

So on Friday night I suggested being friends. Only he said he didn’t think he could, which felt like a blow to the gut. I had to reel myself back a bit and try not to be selfish about it. He said he’d always be there for me, but he wasn’t there yet. Being friends required a level of higher awareness about his own emotional nuances that he isn’t ready to figure out yet.

On top that he also implied that i’m the love of his life. That accepting we might only ever be friends, isn’t something he’s willing or ready to do yet.


We accidentally slipped head over heels into discussing plans and shared futures. I pulled myself back and told him not to write himself into my future. It’s unfair. I’m 33 – he’s 25. Life looks really different to each of us right now.

We admitted we loved each other.

This is not something that has ever been said mutually – or face to face mutually – or not when i’m crying, drunk in Camden. After several hours of conversation, analysis and forgiveness for all the things we’d done to hurt each other – mostly out of frustration and sadness and insecurity and fear – a whole level of honesty about our head spaces that you wouldn’t normally even tell a friend meant I let my guard down and ran with what felt natural for the first time in many years.

And I had to touch him.

My hand fit into his hand, my fingers feeling little as they longingly scratched his palm as I pretty much looked into his eyes and told him with them how I feel. My mouth connected to his mouth and there was a hedonism to the whole thing that you could never get from chemical highs.

We talked about our futures, dreams and plans. I’d always justified him not being the person for me because he’d always maintained he didn’t want kids. Now he reckon’s he does. We messed about and joked what ours would look like. Discussed names. He wants to call his kid Django. I think he was joking but I couldn’t actually 100% tell. So I put on a comedy  voice and said ‘i’d be so totally honored to bear your children baby, i’d let you call them whatever you wanted’.

I think I meant it.

We made out.

I was unaware of any of the people in the pub sat around us, and later on the tube platform as several trains went past… and then when it was midnight and nearly time for last service, I was unaware we were the loved up couple everyone hates on the train.

We left it saying we’d sleep on everything. It was intoxicating. Hard to say goodbye. There was something about the whole thing that felt so utterly natural and right and amazing and consuming – but we’ve been therefore – it starts this way then disappears into absolute nothing.

Yesterday I woke up feeling warm and fuzzy, but by midnight I was admittedly a bit tense. This morning I woke up horny and had to meditate to chill the fuck out.

I feel alright right now.

Who knows what the future holds. Does anyone? Main thing is, the person who is the person I’ve loved the most in my entire life, loves me back. And that kinda makes everything, weirdly okay.

Posted in: History, Journal, Random