Thursday, January 26, 2012
Letter from the Other Woman II
(This is the second part of a story. You can read the first part here ).
I met Paul at a particularly low point in my life. I had just ‘broken up’ with the love of my life who claimed he loved me to bits but wasn’t good enough to date me. (Yeah, right!)
Of course, kind courtesy of ‘He’s just not that into you’, we all know it’s one of the oldest lines in the ‘Douchebaggery for Dummies’ manual.
I wasn’t looking for a relationship and I wasn’t looking for a fling either. I’m not that kind of girl, you see. Yet that first night, drunk on excitement and cheap wine, we kissed.
I apologized the next time we spoke, telling him I had a boyfriend and so we couldn’t go anywhere although I was sure he was a wonderful chap.
He also apologized and told me he also had a girlfriend so we could never go anywhere. This was you, by the way. It should have been the end of our story. Sadly, it wasn’t.
Many a boy/girl dreams of that friendship which defies all latent and overt sexual tension and remains a platonic, life-long friendship. We found we both had that dream.
Of course we could have been using it as an excuse to stay in touch, chasing the thrill of playing with fire and escaping unscathed. I don’t know. I am not the one with a PhD in psychology. You are.
Paul and I had this amazing conversational chemistry that I hardly find with others. Our phone networks definitely benefited from our virtual time together.
We could talk for four hours without a lull in conversation and resume two hours later groggy from sleep with a good morning text and text back and forth all day. O, the folly of youth! (Wistful smile)
And so I kept him around, for the witty conversation and friendship, or so I told myself. The lies we tell ourselves so we can sleep at night!
Every lady knows that the guy who can make you laugh more than anyone else in the world has your heart. I found our senses of humour were 97% compatible. Enough said.
And so the friendship deteriorated into friendship plus casual make-out sessions where you would disappear and all thoughts of the future would disappear too, for we insisted we didn’t want one together.
Time would however betray our lie. For as many who have tried to divorce biology from psychology have found, the heart, head and hormones rarely stay in their boxes when we separate them.
Whilst I convinced myself that I didn’t care that whenever we were together, he’d have to leave if you called, I found myself getting jealous whenever he left to be with you.
I found myself getting annoyed with him and myself whenever he would pick a call and end it with a smile on his face and it wasn’t you he had been talking to.