The last seven days have turned my head upside down and inside out. You’ve been extra caring, extra communicative. Granted you got (half) the story out of me about the drink spiking incident which has made you concerned…. but even this week, when all I had was a cold, you’ve been…well, very present in my life.
Some of my friends think it was a little strange that you asked to come stay at my place the other night when you needed a place to rest your head after offering your bed to a friend who was new to London. But I explained that we’re in a good place and I got it. It was so nice going out for dinner and cocktails followed by a bottle of red and a movie – it felt just like old times, minus the other stuff happening while sharing a bed (& a few harsh realities) later in the night.
Then there was Saturday night. What a night! Not just because we won the Rugby World Cup – but we celebrated and partied just like old times. You and I sure do know how to have fun together, perhaps it’s the ridiculous flirting between us, whatever it is, it’s always a good time.
…but it was in the wee hours of the next morning, when I was about to go home that confused me – more than I want to be. My heart and mind upside down and inside out.
I’m not sure if you remember what you told me…
“You know I like you – right? Really like you. I have very, very, very strong feelings for you…”
…but you told me. You got annoyed with me I told you that actually no, I didn’t know that. You then told me it was too easy to be back to with me, too easy for us to fall in to our old ways. What does that even mean? As we were discussing going home and you explained that you wouldn’t be coming home with me, I felt a little silly. I know you explained that if you came home with me know we’d sleep together but I didn’t initially see the problem with that…I guess I now see your point; ‘it’s us’ – sleeping together could and never will mean nothing. When you stopped me on the driveway on my way to the uber, you made it a little clearer, that we couldn’t do anything until we had talked, till we sorted our sh*t out. Fine. I know it was a mature and sensible decision – but I still felt a little rejected at 6am after a night partying and flirting together.
I kinda expected to talk at some stage over the next few days – what I didn’t expect was for you to turn up at my house the day after like a scene from Rupunzel, calling out my name from outside my house. Although I found the situation a little odd, as soon as you arrived, I had two of the nicest, most relaxed days I’ve had in a long time. I know we didn’t even do anything but just hanging out, watching trashy tv with takeaways together, spending the night watching movies in bed with you was so nice, so easy, so comfortable. Heck, I hadn’t even showered – I was in my pyjamas hung over with no make up on with my hair all over the place – yet I was still happy for you to be the person lying on the couch cuddling me and sleeping in bed next to me.
You’ve gone home now and surprise surprise we never talked about anything. I was too chicken to bring it up. I am no more clued up on if you remember saying anything or even if you meant it. I don’t know how you’re feeling, what you’re thinking or what you want. I’m also no more clued up on any of that myself. Ugh.
Perhaps we just brush it under the carpet with everything else, continue pretending we’re purely friends in the hope that we can carry on this way and nothing combusts…
distanced hearts club ♥