(no subject)
I've been silently dumped on Facebook. Not just defriended but actually blocked. Not by a bloke (chance would be a fine thing) but by a girl who I have been friends with for about 13 years. We've been through an awful lot in that time and now all she is to me is a little blue question mark. It seems she can't or won't approve of my friendship with her ex (for that is what it is, nothing more sinister); I didn't ever think I'd have to make a choice between them. I feel sad but also rather angry, I can't stop thinking about it. I composed a short email to her but then deleted it. I think she's made up her mind - that's the way she is, everything is black and white with her. With apologies to Heidi Klum 'one day you're in, the next you are OUT'.
Anyway. The Tunisian has been back in touch. The first time about a week ago when I happened to be very drunk (he must sense when my defences are down) on a Thursday afternoon, having enjoyed a long lunch with Fluffy T, P and J. I was dancing in F's roomy living room and invited him round to do the same, but he claimed he was already out with friends. Conversation terminated.
I've been away all week up North to see my mum and various family. There was hardly any mobile reception which was strangely liberating, I retreated into a little bubble, immune from London gadding. I arrived back with a bang on Friday and went straight to the Oxo Tower to meet everyone for 'Start if (sic) the Summer Drinks'. Much fun, finally arrived home about 2am.
Then last night I get the latest plaintive text from said North African. 'No news good news?' it read. I found that strangely touching. I texted back that I had been away, but nothing more than that. Honestly, this is the way forward. His last text to me was at 3am this morning, he wants to take me out for drinks. 'Cool' I replied, in a decidedly noncommittal manner.
I think I may have stumbled across the perfect arrangement. I have never once texted or called him first. It took him 4 months after we first met before he cracked and got in touch. Then 5 months for us to actually meet. I don't ask anything of him, ever, but he is tall, handsome, courteous and solvent. I don't ever say 'see you soon' because I'm not particularly bothered when or if I do. This is the most low maintenance relationship of my life - all I do is run a comb through my hair and pick out some nice underwear. It's terribly refreshing to not to be doing all the running, endlessly conspiring in order to make the man adore me, ask me out, swear undying love. What you see is what you get in this case, and that suits me fine for now.
Anyway. The Tunisian has been back in touch. The first time about a week ago when I happened to be very drunk (he must sense when my defences are down) on a Thursday afternoon, having enjoyed a long lunch with Fluffy T, P and J. I was dancing in F's roomy living room and invited him round to do the same, but he claimed he was already out with friends. Conversation terminated.
I've been away all week up North to see my mum and various family. There was hardly any mobile reception which was strangely liberating, I retreated into a little bubble, immune from London gadding. I arrived back with a bang on Friday and went straight to the Oxo Tower to meet everyone for 'Start if (sic) the Summer Drinks'. Much fun, finally arrived home about 2am.
Then last night I get the latest plaintive text from said North African. 'No news good news?' it read. I found that strangely touching. I texted back that I had been away, but nothing more than that. Honestly, this is the way forward. His last text to me was at 3am this morning, he wants to take me out for drinks. 'Cool' I replied, in a decidedly noncommittal manner.
I think I may have stumbled across the perfect arrangement. I have never once texted or called him first. It took him 4 months after we first met before he cracked and got in touch. Then 5 months for us to actually meet. I don't ask anything of him, ever, but he is tall, handsome, courteous and solvent. I don't ever say 'see you soon' because I'm not particularly bothered when or if I do. This is the most low maintenance relationship of my life - all I do is run a comb through my hair and pick out some nice underwear. It's terribly refreshing to not to be doing all the running, endlessly conspiring in order to make the man adore me, ask me out, swear undying love. What you see is what you get in this case, and that suits me fine for now.