hurricane trouble

July 2015

Well it’s official. I am a complete and utter pushover. A nice person maybe, but a pushover definitely. And boy am I feeling stupid about it.

Sucker over here, offered Trouble all the help he needed when he arrived in Lun-dun, she even spent an hour in Earls Court underground station trying to coordinate (without phones) to meet him, help him with all his luggage, help him navigate the public transport system and to genuinely be a friendly face upon his arrival in to a brand new country.

With a dewy face and frizzy hair (thanks 37 degree heat wave) we meet up underground and jump on the tube back towards North/East London to Biggs place (…& Biggs flat mate may I remind you).

Turns out Biggs is at rugby for a few more hours so Trouble and I venture back to mine. He’s hot, bothered, tired and jet lagged – I offer him a shower and put together some snacks. We sit down, eat and hang out like normal. Everything is great – as I knew it would be. More than a few references to the past are made by him, combined with looks, winks and electric touches, which ever so slightly bring my guard down. We decide it’s easier for him to stay at mine on the couch because it’s getting late and he’s shattered. We cook dinner, set up a movie and get settled on the couch to watch it. Everything is fine, absolutely fine. It’s really nice actually, I am so happy to see him.

Four minutes in to the film Trouble is out like a light. I gently wake him to say I’m going to bed and stupidly (/naturally) say he can join me if he wants so that he doesn’t sleep on a couch too small for him. He says he is fine and doesn’t want to wake me with all of his random breathing, snoring (old habits die-hard) as well as his most probable abnormal sleeping patterns due to jet lag. I don’t know what comes over me, but I say I don’t mind. Again, he says he’s fine on the couch, so we say our goodnights and we both go to sleep. In separate beds, separate rooms, under the same roof, in the same country. It feels wrong. It’s so weird.

I wake up, get ready, make coffee and we chat for a few minutes before I go to work – I give him tips for the day and how to get around. I leave for work and feel strange, I feel really numb. Sad, but not distraught – but reality has definitely just hit. Things are different now. We get along great yes, he is one of my favourite people, but after the news broke about him and the Younger Cousin, I just can’t look at him the same. Something’s different – it’s not that I don’t have feelings for him,I definitely do – my heart hurts for him – but its different. I’m ok, but I am sad. Really sad.

Later that day the plans are made for the group dinner. It doesn’t even occur to me not to go, so off we go to dinner; Biggs, Clementine (my friend/Biggs girlfriend), Trouble, Biggs Flatmate (!!) myself and one other guy. A nice cosy dinner for six… Clementine and I instantly order a bottle (or two) of Rose. This is the beginning of the end.

Things are fine at dinner but once the two flatmates decide to go home and the four of us decide to go out that things get messy. To be honest the rest of the night is slightly blurry but next thing I know, the other two are heading home, with Trouble saying he’ll follow in tow. I look at him with utter confusion and annoyance in my eyes, forgetting almost for a minute what has happened; that we’re not together and that he is staying at Biggs place tonight – we even took his stuff there before. He explains that he doesn’t know London and doesn’t know how to get me back to North London to get himself back to East London, that he doesn’t want to blur the boundaries and confuse things between us while we’re drunk by coming back to mine. I am obviously less than impressed and with that, the three of them walk off in to the night – leaving me drunk and alone in Shoreditch.

This is where I’ll put my hand up to being crazy. I burst in to tears, I sit on the side of the road and I just lose it. Trouble messages me “I’m sorry but I don’t know what else to do”. I’m sobbing. I just spent so much time and effort, trying to push my broken heart aside to help his move to London smoother and easier – and here I am on the side of the road by myself?

It also hits me that he has absolutely no feelings for me, its obvious that things are definitely over between us. These two realisations, coupled with a bottle of wine – don’t mix well. I call him bawling my eyes out – I don’t remember the basis of the multiple calls  but I know they are heated on my behalf. I tell him I can’t believe I was so stupid to ever think he cared for me, that I don’t want anything to do with him in London, how much he has broken my heart – etc. etc. etc….

Cringe I hear you wincing – I know. No one is more ashamed of my behaviour than I am – I can assure you. The worst part? It’s how I felt at the time. I just wish I didn’t show it.

Alcohol and Emotion 1. vs bambi 0.

To make things worse, no taxi would pick me up as I didn’t have cash on me, the trains were down as it was too late in the night and when a taxi finally did pick me up – they then decided to drop me off 3km away from home as my 20 pounds cash apparently couldn’t get me home – leaving me stranded again. I am in a complete and utter state.

I wake up in the morning mortified, I know I went way overboard last night and I can’t believe I let him see/hear that. Drama queen much?! It’s not even 8am and I have a missed call from him – he wants to make sure I’m ok, clear the air. We talk it out, finally agreeing that things can’t be that way again but it was inevitable that there was going to be a blowout at some stage given the situation. He explains that seeing me like that and hearing how I think of him really hurts him – I think I do more damage with my words than I realise sometimes. We end the conversation on the note that we’ll just have to see how things go on the friendship scale when he’s back from his OE.

I tell him I hope he has a great three months travelling, stay safe and live it up – he’ll never get this experience again. And that’s that.

And now for me? I deal with it. I start dealing with all the emotion that has built up over the last year, the last six months, the last three months but especially the whirlwind that was the last 48 hours. Disappointment, heartache, sadness, anger, annoyance, relief – such an immense combination of emotions to work through.

I know I’ll be fine, but to be honest I don’t know where to begin mending my heart, my mind and my soul – not to mention the killer headache thanks to my hangover!

xo bambi

distanced hearts club ♥

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