I feel like I have nothing to say.
This is entirely untrue. I have lots to say. I never suffer from not having anything to say, verbal diarrhoea I think they call it.
I can talk shit for hours.
This week in particular I feel like I have talked more shit than usual. Slow and painful springs to mind and not in a good way.
Some of the conversations I have had this week have been frustrating, to say the least. On the flip side of that some have been quite interesting, even helpful. The others have left me feeling dazed and more than a little confused.
My most frustrating conversation was with Capeofgood (his name not mine), who felt the need to message;
Just because you do not have a degree and may not be very intelligent you should still want to be an equal in a relationship, surely? Unless you are just a dumb blonde looking for a Sugar Daddy?
I wanted to punch him in the face but seeing as that wasn’t an option I replied instead, with this;
I may not have a degree but I still own my own mind and while I do, I will make my own decisions, based solely on what I believe and not on what others perceive. It seems that even people with a degree can be ignorant.
He fired back. Of course he did, I wouldn’t have expected anything else. You dare to call me ignorant? I am highly educated I’ll have you know.
I declined to respond. It seemed futile to point out that it is indeed exactly what I am looking for. Education is wasted on some people.
He fired back a few more times before he eventually gave up.
What was he trying to achieve? No idea. Did he achieve it? Probably, to some extent as he made me question myself, yet again!
In another conversation which started out quite well, seemingly we were on the same page, the chat was quite easy and comfortable, so in a natural progression we decided to exchange pictures, after which he simply messaged to say; No, thank you.
That smarts! I don’t care who you are or what you look like, a reaction like that to your photo is going to sting somewhat.
Does bloody wonders for your confidence this online dating lark!
I know it is normal. It is normal, not to be everyone’s cup of tea. I am the first to often take looks in to account when making a decision about someone, so I am in no position to complain. It still smarts though.
My favourite conversation this week has been with Cheung (don’t ask), Cheung makes me feel inadequate. Actually that is an outright lie. I make myself feel inadequate, I don’t need any help there. Cheung is, in my mind, the stuff dreams are made of, now when you start talking about the stuff that dreams are made of you are in dangerous territory.
Our conversation switches from light and playful to dark and challenging in an instant. He is almost mocking and has a way about him that leaves me thinking I am way out of his league. He does not insinuate this in any way however, this is just how I feel. I feel like he is a cut above, too good for me. Too worldly, almost. It is a horrible feeling in the nicest way. Does that even make sense?
I am intrigued by him. He makes me smile at the same time as he makes me slightly terrified.
Do not be fooled in to thinking he scares me. He doesn’t. The feelings I have are the feelings I feel, my own insecurities. Insecurities that come from being a very average.
I often describe myself as average because that is how I see myself. I do not think there is an awful lot wrong with being average to be honest and let’s face it, things could be worse.
However, I am a single mum, fact. I come from a fairly working class background and when I say working class, I mean hard-working class. I do not really have airs and graces. I am what I am and I mostly feel comfortable with that, until I am confronted by someone who is quite obviously an overachiever. This just puts me at odds with myself and I struggle with the whole upstairs/downstairs thing.
Cheung and I are an upstairs/downstairs thing.
I may be jumping to conclusions here as I know nothing about him really and he knows nothing about me but I can just feel it. Our conversation has been very neutral, talk about where we live, the things we enjoy, he quotes poetry and I pretend I know what he is talking about. I think he knows I don’t have a bloody clue but he is always gentlemanly in his reply. He never gives any clues as to whether there is a right or wrong answer. I feel like there probably is.
I have already had to apologise once in our conversation for assuming that his intentions were anything but honourable. I was joking but that doesn’t always come across in a message and judging by his response it clearly hadn’t. He made light work of making me feel very sorry indeed.
I didn’t want to offend him. It was certainly not my intention. I like him already. He seems perfect, no such thing I know but I don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize the chance of us meeting.
The chances are we might not want to see each other again or one of us might not but if there is a slim chance this could be anything, something, I am taking it.
After much to ing and fro ing I decided to just take the initiative. I asked him if he wanted to meet:
Enough of all this to ing and fro ing.. Do you think you would like to meet? Are you interested at all? Who is the submissive here? ;P
To which he replied:
Ha ha. Of course! I would love to meet!
That was the end of me taking control, it was short-lived experience. Well, until today.
After more talk about proverbial cups of tea and references to Alice in Wonderland and the fact that we could take tea anywhere. Would I like to go to Europe for tea or stay in the UK? For real? Come on, be normal. No, don’t be normal, please be anything but normal.
Yes, I’d love to. However, the fact that I don’t even have a valid passport anymore might make it slightly difficult. We live in different worlds. Do we? Is this just a game?
If it is, I am throwing for a six…
… and now I am back in charge, for a very short time.
You choose, I want you to be able to slip your Nikes on and dash, the moment you feel like a bolt. THIS call is yours, make the most of it. IF there are more calls to be made, they will be made for you! *smiley face
Smiley face, indeed! His sarcastic reference to my earlier assumption did not go un-noticed.
Now though, I am flummoxed. I don’t know what to say, my mind is in over analyse mode and it is not coming out. I hate making decisions. I don’t want to be the one to decide. What if I get it wrong? Can I get it wrong? Help me, someone, anyone?
I have been thinking about it all afternoon. I am driving myself fucking nuts.
I need to give this shit up and get a bloody hobby.
If and when I ever get around to replying to Cheung, you will be the first to know.
In my fantasy he just knocks on the door you see, we don’t have to go through the rigmarole of actually talking, pretending we are clever and witty and all the arrangements and the back and forth, he just knocks on the door. Simple.
Talking of fantasies… I have a new neighbour. He is young ish, mid thirties maybe, seemingly single and very good-looking. He has moved in opposite me, I see him often, coming and going and every weekend he washes his car. I have watched him every weekend for the last few weeks.
I have turned this little scene in to a fantasy.
Fantasies are one of life’s simplest pleasures. You don’t have to do anything with them except, let them go…
If only everything else was so easy.