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Useless Me |
| Written by Gordon Blair | |
| Tuesday, 12 February 2008 | |
My perfect girl. The one who's lived in my mind for as log as I can recall. Manifest. Innocent, intelligent, funny, exciting. Understated but unbelievably attractive. Every flaw is an enhancement, every vulnerability invites me to care. She's shy yet strangely confident. Confident in the things I don't like girls to be confident in though. Ten months I've watched her every move, hung on her every under spoken word, desperately trying to engineer chance encounters, to be interesting, to get closer to the goal of my life.
It hasn't gone well. For the first two month our contact amounted to a smile every other Tuesday as we walked in different directions. But there was something in that smile, a coy flirtiness, a glimmer of the same feelings that were growing in me. I tried for more. I needed to talk to her. To confirm she was my relationship nirvana. Eventually I got her alone, away from the showiness and benign small talk that was the overlapping circles of friends that had brought her into my life to start with. All I could muster was benign small talk and an over-eagerness to be funny so that with every word the banality of my conversation caused us to be further apart.
After that we were separated for three months. I went half way round the world yet she was still the closest thing to my thoughts. Persisting what might be's if I could just get myself together. I longed for her. To be with her. Time nor distance nor attainable others made any dent on my unachievable infatuation.
It was time though that reunited us. Its unquivering passing brought about another year and a new start. Fate played into my hands. I would have endless opportunities to move from her peripheries to her core. I tried, energised by my travels which made me interesting, amusing and cool. She'd had a boring summer. Good, no other guys. We talked, she listened, she responded, she engaged. I was caught in a whirlwind of possibility and hope. She confirmed my opinions of her only too readily and infatuation slowly grew into something stronger. I developed that pre-love angst. She dominated my thoughts. I loved her. She was perfect. I hated her she wasn't with me and she always seemed too friendly with men that weren't me. Friendlier with them than she was with me. But no she came and spoke to me, I caught her looking at me in the same way I look at her. Or was she looking beyond me to someone else? I needed it confirmed. I can be happy alone, I can be happy with someone, but not knowing was paralysis. Every second emotions changed like the pulling of petals from a daisy my mind said she loves me, she loves me not. I wanted to know if she was looking for more than friendship.
My opportunity came. Across a crowded club she sought me out. She sought me out. She wanted to talk to me. I was pitiful. My true boring being showed itself once more. Killing the conversation, killing my chance, killing our relationship. But it was a chance. Maybe I could save it, I would get to speak to her the next day. I could make up for it. After all I now had something to play with. She sought me out.
I tried hard. Made a much better effort. The damage was repaired, back to where we had been, back to oppurchancity again. Surely I could do this I. I'd built it up. Things had worked so far and now as we walked together I strengthened my position ahead of a move. I'd saved it. We were still on. We walked further as I wished for my third wheel flatmate to have been ill that day. Then I could have done it there and then.
We arrived at our destination and she detached slightly to speak to her closest friend. She was still in earshot though and I wanted to listen and find out if I would be mentioned.
I wasn't. But a guy that had chatted her up after I left was. Ten years older, dead end job, no direction in life. I'd had all I ever wanted snatched away. My mind stopped. I could think of nothing but her and this perv. In my mind they were already having sex, he was vandalising perfection, reducing her to cheap sport. I convinced myself to hang in. It would fail. Give it a few dates. She's not stupid, not like every other girl, she'll see through him, it will be but a passing blip in a week.
It wasn't. Day by day I heard snippets of their flourishing relationship. My hope gradually eroded as I was consumed with jealousy. I felt sick every time I saw her. The bile rose within me. My emotions had been shattered. My brain had stalled permanently, stuck on the realisation that I would never be with her. I couldn't eat, sleep or think. And then I broke.
All the poison that had lived in me for so many years suddenly came free. My parent's protracted acrimonious divorce, my father's alcoholism, my sisters suicide attempt, the fights, the lack of love, the loneliness all burst out of the abscess in my mind that I had kept them in for so long. The pus filled my arteries and penetrated my sole. I was nothing. I had nothing and would never be anything.
I dreamed of death. I slashed at my arms to let the pain out. Deeper and deeper. The blood slowly oozing out in little interspersed lobules was the only thing that made me happy. The only thing that gave my mind momentary relief from the despair of knowing I was me and would never change me and me would never be someone people liked, let alone loved. I had fooled myself and wanted revenge for the deception. I cut more, as punishment. The justice I enacted on myself felt righteous. The punishment I received felt earned. I longed to give the death sentence, laying out the pills, working out if they were enough, if I needed to obtain more. I steeled myself to do it. I gave the verdict. Twice I saved myself with a late appeal.
They drugged me up. They'll work they said. So would heroin but they weren't too keen on that. They made me talk about it. I never mentioned her. I blamed my parents, my upbringing, all the underlying problems. But I never admitted the trigger. I got better. Slowly. I kept away from her. I learned to hate her. To wish her dead. I got better.
But I would always have to go back. Back to where she was. I was past her though. She had nearly killed me and I recognised the poison chalice that was hidden by her sweetness now. I kept away though, for I knew I was easy pickings for someone who was an effortless temptress.
For a while it worked but I was still lured by her sheer perfection. I held back but we were talking more than ever now, she'd moved further into my social group. She was completely unavoidable. I couldn't shift my feelings for her and I was beginning to feel I wouldn't have to. The guy from before had disappeared. Back to perving on girls too young for him at the sleaziest nightclubs. We had better conversations. I was more relaxed.
Last week things started going really well. She came out with my friends. We talked a lot. She's been giggling at everything I say, far too much. I'm finding out so much more about her too. It's all what I want to hear. Except how much she drinks, which is actually no more than anyone else, but I blame my alcoholic father for my dim view of other peoples alcohol consumption.
Then yesterday things changed completely. We got rather flirty and very hands on at a training session. There's a lot of eye contact. This feels so different now. I'm sure things can only go one way.
And so I'm here. It's today. I have to know before I start spiralling into the same mindset as before. I've procrastinated for ten months, I really can't wait any longer. She's sitting down next to me. Here goes.
‘Hi. How are you? You look rather cold.' ‘Just a bit.' ‘So did you get all the work done that you wanted to?' ‘Yeah. Just about. I've cleared most of the stuff so should have the weekend to do what I want. You up to much this weekend?'
Here's my chance. Can link it in nicely here.
‘Not much planned. Got a bit of work to do but nothing much. Will probably go out running or something. Emm, I was wondering if you would like to go out together sometime, maybe for a meal or drinks.' ‘Emmmmmm. Well, maybe, emmmmm, we could do perhaps.'
Failure
‘If you don't want to its fine, I just wanted to ask.' ‘Well, emmmm, hmmmm.'
Awkward silence. I was wrong. I'm useless. What's going to happen to me now? Copyright 2008 Gordon Blair |
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