Tag Archives: Baltic Babe
Time for Stupid Boy to crash and burn
I felt like the King of the World! I was close to having my way with The Model and I had closure with Baltic Babe. It was a great day, but something was bothering me. On the walk back to her offices, I had mentioned to Baltic Babe that I was going on a date with an ex-model that night. I wanted to see her reaction. Her response was, “You’re going on a date dressed like that?!” We parted ways before I could ask her what she meant by her comment as I thought I was adequately attired. I sent her a text message while I was waiting for The Model.
3.27pm
After that typically intense & stimulating encounter…there is something I just have to know… What’s wrong with how I’m dressed for my date tonight?
3.42pm
Baltic Babe: So madly busy now. I will tell you later if I survive. You cannot change anything about it anyway. Have fun tonight!
9.51pm
Baltic Babe: Just got into a cab. It was not a very nice evening 😦 but the job needed to be done. How was your date? I hope enjoyable with the model? 🙂 so your clothes..I just did not feel that you looked presentable enough for a date! Night
I left it there. I was too busy fantasizing about how Saturday with The Model was going to turn out. First I would impress The Model with culinary skills, then the clowns at the circus would make us laugh, then when the time was right, I’d impress her with my cunnilingual skills. When would be the right time to make my move?
The following morning while sitting in the reception area waiting to start my new job, Baltic Babe sent me a text message:
“Have a nice first day at work! Send me your new work email address as I will be sending you dirty jokes :-)))”
I ignored her. She had her chance with me and blew it. I was also too busy with my first day on my new job. She must have seen things differently because the next day she texted me again.
17th October – 8:55am
Baltic Babe: “So what is this silence? Did you not get an email address at work? How was your first day?”
I was a little surprised to hear from her again. From our lunchtime encounter I got the distinct impression that she had no interest in me.
I responded with this text message:
After all that has happened… NOW you want to send me dirty jokes?! Now. 🙂
Just what kind of a nutcase are you?
Fine.
Send me your dirty jokes.
I’ll send you dirty pictures…
Of me.
🙂
Your non-friend.
The next day I sent her the following email from my new work email address:
Little Terrorist,
As demanded, herewith my new work email address.
I think there is a system-generated footer attached to all outbound emails. It should have the main switchboard number included. My extension is 5236 or you could ask for me by name.
This is a very tightly controlled environment, so I would prefer it if you only used this email for emergencies only.
Being management, I have to lead by example.
But you being you, you probably would prefer it if I sent pictures of me in my new work environment. Or…even more paranoid and diabolical…I use video on my phone and showed you everything and everyone over my shoulder. Tsk tsk. I know you.
Phil
PS. If I get a mystery phonecall to my extension, with light heavy breathing, before the phone is politely put down on me without a word being said… I know it’s you. 🙂
She didn’t reply. Was she just wanting proof that I was working where I said I was? Probably. Her trust issues ran deep.
On the Thursday night I phoned The Model to make final arrangements for our date at my place on the Saturday. The call went amicably enough and we shared a few laughs. I thought it had went fine and the way was clear to have some (hopefully naughty) fun on Saturday night. I don’t think you can imagine my surprise, horror and disappointment when an hour later she sends me the following text message:
Hi you! Really sorry but I can’t do Saturday…Or any day. I’m not OK with any of this. It all feels a bit awkward. Sure you will understand x
Fuckit!
I felt crestfallen.
What the hell happened? Our chat was good, the previous date was at least okay (her kisses told me so) – what was I missing? I racked my brain for hours trying to figure out what I had done wrong. I grew frustrated and angry at what had happened, but I’ll never truly know the reason. Whatever it was, it remained in her head and heart. The last sentence in her message must have alluded to her knowing that I suspected her of being badly on the rebound. Who knows?
Smarting from The Model’s shock and abrupt dismissal of me on the Thursday night, on the Friday morning I texted Baltic Babe the following:
8.54am
OK, let’s try the friends thing. The Circus is in town. I have 2 tickets. I can also provide lunch and a tour of my town. Can you make it? 🙂
9.14am
Baltic Babe: When is it on? My weekends are so full now…Have been working until almost midnight as well. Very tired.
Later that Friday night at 10.04pm
Baltic Babe: Just leaving the office. I don’t think I can escape tomorrow as I have not been able to do anything during the week. Enjoy the circus and thanks for the invite
Fuckit!…again!
Being snubbed by two women in 24 hours was more than my ego could take. In a moment of anger and despair I wrote to Tech Titan on the Friday night. Her and I had been swapping the occasional email over the previous three months. I answered her emails out of my misguided pledge that “of course we can be friends”.
She was coming across as desperate to keep in touch with me, I suspect all in a hope to rekindle a relationship, which I really wasn’t interested in.
I invited her to join me for the circus the next night, but she answered saying that she was in San Francisco for work and would be returning in a week’s time. She suggested us getting together on the Sunday. I agreed to this. Idiot. Stupid Boy strikes again!
Never in my life had I had a romantic moment with a woman and then moved the relationship on to the basis of a friendship. I didn’t think it could be done, largely because I didn’t know how. I was curious about whether or not I could be friends with a woman, knowing full well that the woman in question had hopes of her own about me. Okay, that’s all largely true and partially bullshit too.
There is something I must confess to you. I was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with me after having been spurned by two women in such short order. A part of me was craving validation about being attractive to the opposite sex. Being around a woman who fancies me, is not just happy but excited about being with me would make me feel a whole lot better about myself.
Thus the stage was set…
How I felt is encapsulated in this song:
Queen- Somebody To Love
Can anybody find me somebody to love
Ooh, each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
(Take a look at yourself) Take a look in the mirror and cry (and cry)
Lord what you’re doing to me (yeah yeah)
I have spent all my years in believing you
But I just can’t get no relief, Lord!
Somebody (somebody) ooh somebody (somebody)
Can anybody find me somebody to love ?
Yeah
I work hard (he works hard) every day of my life
I work till I ache in my bones
At the end (at the end of the day)
I take home my hard earned pay all on my own
I get down (down) on my knees (knees)
And I start to pray
Till the tears run down from my eyes
Lord somebody (somebody), ooh somebody
(Please) Can anybody find me somebody to love ?
(He works hard)
Everyday (everyday) – I try and I try and I try
But everybody wants to put me down
They say I’m going crazy
They say I got a lot of water in my brain
Ah, got no common sense
I got nobody left to believe in
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Oh Lord
Ooh somebody – ooh somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love ?
(Can anybody find me someone to love)
Got no feel, I got no rhythm
I just keep losing my beat (You just keep losing and losing)
I’m OK, I’m alright (he’s alright – he’s alright)
I ain’t gonna face no defeat (yeah yeah)
I just gotta get out of this prison cell
One day (someday) I’m gonna be free, Lord!
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love love love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love somebody somebody somebody somebody
Somebody find me
Somebody find me somebody to love
Can anybody find me somebody to love ?
(Find me somebody to love)
Ooh
(Find me somebody to love)
Find me somebody, somebody (find me somebody to love) somebody, somebody to love
(Find me somebody to love)
Find me, find me, find me, find me, find me
Ooh – somebody to love
(Find me somebody to love)
Ooh
(Find me somebody to love)
Find me, find me, find me somebody to love
(Find me somebody to love)
Anybody, anywhere, anybody find me somebody to love love love!
Wooo somebody find me, find me love.
Baltic Babe and the brief encounter at lunch – Monday
I just couldn’t get her out of my head. I was in central London on Monday 15th October 2012 and my business there concluded earlier than I had anticipated. Lunchtime was approaching and I phoned a few friends to see if any of them were able to meet up at such short notice, but none could. In a moment of irrational emotion I texted Baltic Babe. To my surprise she was amenable to meeting up.
I stood on the stairs at the Bishopsgate exit to Liverpool Street station, that old familiar station that her and I seemed to gravitate towards. Office workers in coats and jackets were hurriedly scurrying about in their lunch-hour while a cold Autumn wind buffeted us all. The seasons seemed to change in sync with my love life.
I had no idea about what to expect from Baltic Babe. It was a spur of the moment idea to try and see her again because I felt I needed closure. I didn’t like the way that things had ended between us.
I got the feeling that someone was looking at me from my right, so I turned and saw Baltic Babe walking towards me in the middle of a crowd. Our eyes locked like they did the very first time we saw each other. We both couldn’t help but smile. My heart was in my throat. The wind had ruffled her white-blonde hair and it was her early morning dandelion look, whether she liked it or not. She was wearing a new, smart black knee-length coat and clutching a handbag over her shoulder. Her face was pock-marked; it must have been that time of the month. Good, it meant that she wasn’t pregnant.
We greeted without touching. Kissing her, even on the cheek, seemed inappropriate.
“Hello. How are you?” I asked demurely, as the rest of the world seemed to evaporate around us, all noise ceasing and the wind disappearing.
“I’m good, thanks. How are you?” she said coyly.
I could see in her darting eyes and bemused smile that she wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but her curiosity had brought her to find out. I wondered if her ego was hoping that I was going to declare my undying love for her and beg her that we try again. If so, she was in for a disappointment. While I was waiting for her I had decided on a course of action.
“Shall we go have a quick lunch somewhere?” I suggested.
Baltic Babe nodded in agreement and I led us to an arcade of eateries a block away. We both liked the idea of what a Japanese takeaway was offering, so we stepped inside and chose what we wanted. When we were at the counter to pay, she turned to me with a knowing look. Her bottom lip was suppressing a smile and her eyes had a naughty glint.
“Shall I pay for lunch?” I said sarcastically, not really minding because my new job was starting the next day. Her cheeks swelled and her eyes laughed, but she still suppressed the smile. I didn’t smother my smile. We could still know what the other was thinking without either saying a word and have fun at the same time.
We found a free table outside and sat, eating our lunch, not saying a word, just looking at each other.
“How’s work?” I opened.
“Shit as usual, but at least my bitch-boss isn’t in today. That’s why I was able to come out for lunch.”
“Any idea what’s going to happen?”
“No idea. Nobody talks to me.”
We fell silent again, feeding ourselves sushi from plastic containers. Our eyes would lock and I could see that she was really curious about what I had to say, why I had asked her out for lunch. We finished our food in silence. It was time for me to say my piece.
“I’ve come to accept that we’re not right for each other,” I began. Her face and body-language was unchanged. I continued after a moment of checking her reaction to my initial words.
“Nevertheless I can’t help but think of you every day. I can’t get you out of my head.” Her ego liked that. Her eyes widened, but she said nothing.
“I want you to do me a favour.”
“What?” she said.
“I want you to hurt me so that I can forget about you. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you felt nothing for me.”
Baltic Babe’s face became serious as she thought about what to say or do. After a few seconds she spoke.
“No, I can’t do that. I don’t deliberately hurt people.” she said confidently, obviously pleased with her clever reply.
“So you won’t give me what I want? Okay, that hurts. Thanks.” I grinned.
She blinked hard and smiled at the realization that she had been outsmarted. Silence returned.
I hadn’t got the silver spike through my heart that I was hoping for. Nor had a red-hot poker singed my soul to leave a permanent scar. However, her words and demeanour told me once and for all that she was no longer interested in me. That was good enough for me.
“I have to go back to the office now” she said, her curiosity about my intentions now obviously satisfied.
I insisted on accompanying her to her offices as I had nothing better to do and, to be honest, I was perversely enjoying the encounter. We walked the few blocks to her place of work, making polite superficial small-talk. I made her laugh once and I took in the sound as best I could, knowing it might be the last time I would hear it.
We rounded a corner and Baltic Babe stopped in her tracks and looked me in the eye.
“We have to say goodbye now,” she said without any emotion. “I don’t want my colleagues seeing us.”
I stepped towards her, wanting to give her a farewell kiss on the cheek, but she lowered her head in an avoidance move and I kissed her forehead instead. She kept her head down and I couldn’t resist the urge to give her one last hug. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight. She fitted me perfectly. After a few seconds of savouring the sensation, I let her go. She raised her head and I saw that there was an imprint on her forehead from the zip on my jacket.
Without another word or meeting of eyes she turned away and walked down the pavement towards the entrance to her offices. I stood and watched her walk away. Slowly a variety of feelings engulfed me. I was sad that things hadn’t worked out between us. I was pleased that I now had the sense of closure that was lacking.
I watched her approach her entrance and thought to myself, “If she turns around to look at me, then she still wants me.”
She didn’t turn around.
The Model & Baltic Babe drive me crazy
My date with The Model was lacklustre. It just didn’t feel as good as when I was with Baltic Babe, not for a moment at any point. I don’t know why, but I sent Baltic Babe the following email:
Hello & Goodbye
It’s a cool Sunday morning and I would so much have preferred to have woken up to the sight of your pretty face, angelic smile, bushy hair…and the sound of your unforgettable laugh. How I miss your laugh.
I never ever thought I could or even would fall for someone as quickly and as deeply as I did with you.
My heart says I must fight for you. I must do whatever it takes to prove to you that you are wrong about me. Show you just how much of me you have misunderstood. Show you how good we could be together.
But, my brain says “No, don’t.” It says this for various reasons.
In recent years I have learned (at great expense) to trust my brain. My heart has got me in to trouble in the past.
Your past is not your future – and that applies to me too. What I want now from life has changed from how I have lived before. After 2 weeks of interviews, this week I landed a permanent position as a manager in the IT department of Famous Company. I have 22 staff to look after. In February we will be delivering a new website. Whenever you use it, you can think to yourself “He did that.”
If things in the coming years do not work out how you hope, then remember this: if your priorities change to simply wanting to be with someone who loves you – really loves you – and if you think you could grow to love me, and if I am still available, then you have this email address.
Don’t feel obliged to be polite and answer this. For once, let me have the final word. 🙂
XX
I hoped that Baltic Babe wouldn’t answer and would just leave matters there.
Later that same Sunday night I phoned The Model, but she didn’t answer so I left a message. She sent an email the next day saying that she had fallen asleep watching a dvd with her heart-broken friend.
Also on the Monday morning I get a text message from Baltic Babe. It read:
Congrats on your job! Yes, that site needs a refurb 🙂 I will send you some pics from sunny beach soon.
Me: How do you do that? I’m sitting here looking at our photos from Sunny Beach…
I knew she would answer, that was typically her cheeky sense of humour. However, I wasn’t expecting any photos from her. Was she just angling for attention, or had she had a change of heart? I let matters with Baltic Babe rest there. I had a prettier fish to fry…
The Model had to go travelling around England for work the following week, so we couldn’t get together then. I phoned her one night during the week, we had a chat and she told me that she had her mother coming to visit for the weekend.
On the Sunday morning I emailed the following to The Model:
Hi Gorgeous!
What a lovely morning. I don’t mind this time of year – falling leaves, a nip in the air, the anticipation of Xmas speeding towards us… It’s the depth of Winter I don’t like, especially having to get up and go to work when you’d rather be snug under the duvet keeping somebody else warm.
Anyhooo… my start day has been moved to Tuesday and I’m going in to London on Monday to the South African embassy to run the gauntlet of bureaucracy gone mad. I expect I’ll be there over lunch. As I’m in town and will be free in the evening, I’m wondering if you’re free too because I’d like to buy you dinner. OK, I’ll admit it. I also want to partake of the loveliness that is you, even if just for a few hours.
Any chance?
Her response came very late on the Sunday night:
Hello lovely one!
Thank you for your email… It would be lovely to catch up tomorrow. Im training some clients in Gloucester rd at 3 then finished about 4pm so lets catch up! Had a heavy weekend so was planning an early night tucked in with cocoa- so I can alter that but can you be gentle with me please!?!!?
A x
Heavy weekend with her mother? Hmm…
The Model and Baltic Babe cross paths
All her message said was:
Hi there!
Thanks for the wink! I’m Amy.
Lets chat….. x
It was Monday morning and suddenly the world seemed very different. The previous night I fell asleep feeling very sorry for myself. Amy’s email instantly lifted my spirits. Wait, that’s not true… her profile PHOTOS lifted my spirits. She was stunning! She had just the look that I’ve always liked…and she was interested in me?!
The closing words to her profile said:
I’m looking for a like minded soul who can see the better side of life. He would be my own little hero with whom I can share my wildest dreams and inner most secrets. I would love and cherish him always. I will laugh at his jokes even when they are not funny. Stroke his brow when man flu sets in.
I liked that because to me it spoke of a passionate, caring soul. The rest of her profile was well-written too, but it was that paragraph at the end that told me that we would get along. All desire to learn Russian and learn to sing lame 70s songs evaporated like a fart before the flame.
The website that she had written to me on was the same one where I had found Tech Titan and Baltic Babe. From now on I shall refer to that website as my Happy Humping Ground. It offered the facility to “wink” at someone you fancied, essentially an online come-on facility. I had not winked at her, but why spoil her illusion? A woman as attractive as her probably got a daily flood of emails and winks, a little confusion could be expected.
I answered her message and over the course of the Monday evening we swapped several emails via the Happy Humping Ground website. We agreed to meet in central London on the Wednesday night. She moved fast, which told me that she was a confident, decisive woman, traits I value in anyone.
I woke up on the Wednesday morning remembering that I would have been travelling with Baltic Babe to her home country. I felt a tinge of regret. It would have been a fabulous adventure. However, it wasn’t meant to be. Besides, I also had a promising date lined up later in the day. One of the most stunning faces I had seen on a dating profile wanted to meet me.
In a fit of nostalgia tinged with sadness, I lay in bed and texted the following to Baltic Babe:
I wish you a safe, productive and enjoyable trip back home.
7.06am Her: Thank you! I was just thinking about you.
Me: Thinking that if I was rich I would be perfect? 🙂
7.14am Her: Money, money, money, must be funny in the rich men’s world! 🙂
Me: There are other riches in the world that last longer and can never be taken away.
7.21am Her: Of course there are! And no, I did not think that it would have been perfect if you were rich. It has nothing to do with the reason why we are not together. 😦
I left it there. I didn’t know what more to say. Was there anything to say?
Besides, I had a hot date later in the day with someone who will become known as The Model…
Baby come back – Saturday 22nd September
When we had got back from Bulgaria, I had a coffee mug made that changes from a solid black appearance to a photo printed on it when the mug reaches a certain temperature. I had the photo of us at Khan’s Tent emblazoned on the mug. I added an inscription that read “I love you” in red. I was planning on presenting it to Baltic Babe when the time was right. It arrived after our blow-up and I didn’t know what to do with it, so I posted it to her, without any kind of written message included.
I had no use for it and hoped that she would put it somewhere in a cupboard and each time she saw it, she would think of me. Perhaps with the passing of time she would forget what it did when it was heated and would use it one day in front of a boyfriend. Perhaps she might even give it to him in hand and he could watch the picture reveal before his eyes, seeing me smiling back at him.
On the 22nd September at 11.26am I got an unexpected text message from Baltic Babe that read:
What a wonderful present, thank you!
I decided that I wanted to win her back, but I knew that it would take time. I decided that I would learn some Russian and take singing lessons. The singing was part of my plan of inviting her out to a restaurant that had karaoke facilities. Not many classy eateries would have this, so I was prepared to hire the equipment. I would organise matters with the restaurant management in advance.
When the time was right and upon a signal from me, music would start playing. I would produce a microphone and start singing the following song to her. As long as I live, I could never find words better than these.
Player – Baby Come Back
Spending all my nights
All my money going out on the town
Doing anything just to get you off of my mind
But when the morning comes
I’m right back where I started again
Trying to forget you is just a waste of time
Baby come back, any kind of fool could see
There was something in everything about you
Baby come back, you can blame it all on me
I was wrong, and I just can’t live without you
All day long, wearing a mask of false bravado
Trying to keep up the smile that hides a tear
But as the sun goes down
I get that empty feeling again
How I wish to God that you were here
Baby come back, any kind of fool could see
There was something in everything about you
Baby come back, you can blame it all on me
I was wrong, and I just can’t live without you
Now that I put it all together
Give me the chance to make you see
Have you used up all the love in your heart
Nothing left for me
Ain’t there nothing left for me
Baby come back, any kind of fool could see
There was something in everything about you
Baby come back, listen, you can blame it all on me
I was wrong, and I just can’t live without you
I was wrong, and I just can’t live
“There was something in everything about you.” That perfectly captures how I felt about her. She knew nothing of my plan.
Tears in my tea…and rhyming couplets leads to a polite fuckoff?
On the Tuesday morning, I got the following text message from Baltic Babe:
Very nice poetry! You have a talent for writing.
I took her answering as a sign that the lines of communication were still open, so that night I phoned her. I was hoping to clear the air and see if there was any hope for us. We had a brutally honest conversation. Baltic Babe had a massive problem with my being a freelance worker. She wanted a man who went off to a 9-to-5 job all year round. That admission told me everything. The outcome of the call is perfectly encapsulated in an email that I sent to a friend the following day.
Baltic Babe and I had a long conversation last night. Her trust issues with me stem from my never exhibiting any kind of permanence to life. I’m always moving about. She’s looking for stability. Understandable.
In essence she’s looking for a little bird that flies between the nest and the wide world, bringing back what the nest-dwellers require.
What’s in it for the little bird?
So, I concluded that she is not interested in me, but more interested in what I can do for her.
I want to be with someone who loves me, not the benefits of being with me.
We wished each other good luck and said goodbye.
C’est la vie.
After I had sent the email above, I found myself sitting at my keyboard, tea before me, with tears in my eyes. For the second time in less than a year a woman had broken my heart. I wrote the following poem and sent it to Baltic Babe.
-
Tears in my tea
It’s breakfast, with tea I’m at my table
You said found my way of life too unstable.
My feelings for you were strong
Now overnight you are gone.
I didn’t want to love so soon
I was afraid of looking like a buffoon.
But you crept inside my frozen heart
I knew loving so soon wasn’t smart.
But you are as gentle as a dove
You, I couldn’t help but love.
Someone like you the world causes pain
Yes, you have every right to complain.
You feared that I could be inside your mind
The truth is, our hearts are almost two of a kind.
I could look at you and know what you feel
I know you won’t accept that this is real.
I couldn’t wait to read your every letter
Fool! By now I should have known better.
Life has never been that kind to me
Now there are tears in my tea.
Within a couple of hours I got the following response…
Interesting reading from wiki:
“In sociology and psychology the degree to which one party trusts another is a measure of belief in the honesty, fairness, or benevolence of another party. In psychology, trust is believing that the person who is trusted will do what is expected. Perception of honesty, competence and value similarity (slightly similar to benevolence) are essential. There are three different forms of trust. Trust is being vulnerable to someone even when they are trustworthy; Trustworthiness are the characteristics or behaviours of one person that inspire positive expectations in another person, and trust propensity being able to rely on people. Once trust is lost, by obvious violation of one of these three determinants, it is very hard to regain. Thus there is clear asymmetry in the building versus destruction of trust. Hence being and acting trustworthy should be considered the only sure way to maintain a trust level.”
You see, on the basis of the above, one can conclude that trust comes with time and there is no other way. If one does not act in a trustworthy way, the level of trust will be low. The trustworthiness of a person can only be confirmed by facts, not someone’s beliefs or understanding as that someone could be under a delusion. Therefore, proving facts is essential. People who obstruct the process of getting the facts cannot be considered trustworthy as obstruction to getting the facts will be perceived as a sign of dishonesty. I believe that there are people who, perhaps, naturally and unintentionally behave in the way that makes them look not trustworthy. And it has nothing to do with the people who, on the basis of their reasoned judgment, perceive them in this way. I cannot argue about this issue anymore.
I am really sorry that it ended in this way… I hope that we both will make some people very happy.
Her response made very little sense in the context of what was said between us. Her trust issues were paralyzing. Once again I found myself asking, “Is she crazy?”
I went to work cancelling our upcoming travel arrangements. I managed to get the hotel booking cancelled (thanks Expedia), but the airfare was non-refundable, so I lost several hundred Pounds there. Thanks Ryanair. All at a time when I was having to watch every penny.
Fallout bigger than Chernobyl…or WTF?!
After the massive blow-up, I drove home to lie on my new sofa and fume. Nothing is impossible, but some people are…and Baltic Babe definitely could be.
On the Sunday I was befuddled, shaken and confused Why the hell did yesterday happen? What had I done so wrong? Why would she push me away like that? In fact, she had done similar things when we were on holiday in Bulgaria. Was there something wrong with her? Why did it seem that after many hours of having fun that she just had to start acting up and wreck everything? Why couldn’t she just let the good times keep rolling?
Did she believe deep down that ugliness and disappointment was inevitable? Before it all came crashing down on her when she was least prepared for it, that it was better to fuck it up at a time of her choosing when she was ready? Did her childhood experience condition her to have emotional separation anxiety in adulthood?
I decided to leave her alone on the Sunday. I wondered if she would make contact to apologise for her behaviour. Of course she didn’t.
If I hadn’t touched that bloody tap, we wouldn’t be in this situation. If I said sorry first, would that make it better? Why did she never seem to say sorry? That line of thought made me remember this song:
Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word – Elton John
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5w142CaROC0
What have I got to do to make you love me
What have I got to do to make you care
What do I do when lightning strikes me
And I wake to find that you’re not there
What do I do to make you want me
What have I gotta do to be heard
What do I say when it’s all over
Sorry seems to be the hardest word
It’s sad, it’s so sad
It’s a sad, sad situation
And it’s getting more and more absurd
It’s sad, so sad
Why can’t we talk it over
Always seems to me
That sorry seems to be the hardest word
What do I do to make you love me
What have I gotta do to be heard
What do I do when lightning
Strikes me
What have I gotta do
What have I gotta do
When sorry seems to be the hardest word
On the Monday morning I wrote a poem and emailed it to her. I wasn’t hoping that it would lead to any kind of outcome. I just wanted her to know what I was thinking and feeling. Here it is:
-
The Suspicious Angel
I met an angel at a Tube station
She was from a distant nation.
Her smile and laugh made my day
Would we go the same way?
I thought her heart was filled with love
Had she fallen from high above?
Relationships, she had a few
Mistakes, I’d made mine too.
My touch made her purr like a kitten
In less than 2 months I was smitten.
We spent a week by the sea in the sun
It was good, clean glorious fun.
A few of the nights were intense
The arguments made no sense.
But we found a way to hold hands again
Sure, every romance involves a little pain.
On the plane back I envisaged her giving me a son
With any other woman I would have wanted to run.
But her expectations of people was too high
At times her demands made me and others sigh.
She would struggle to believe a word I said
A lack of trust leaves a relationship dead.
Other men had disappointed her in life
Could someone without trust be my wife?
Others’ relationships in her world met without success
Thus she treated everything like a game of chess.
She was more interested in the state of material dealings
She didn’t seem too concerned with my feelings.
So this angel had a suspicious heart
any relationship this would tear apart.
I made the mistake of touching her tap
and now I feel like crap.
How love breaks down – Saturday 15th
Baltic Babe was my first and last thought of every day. I had never been so taken with anybody or anything in my life. I was aware that I was rapidly falling in love with her. She had a way about her that I found irresistible. Everything about her resonated with me and our chemistry was intense. I’m not embarrassed to say that my days were filled by a giddy feeling, a lightness to how everything felt, a positivity to everything and everyone that I encountered. My heart would skip at least one beat when she sent me a text message during the day. I looked forward to hearing her voice every night when we would talk and laugh for ages. Many times each day my thoughts would drift over to her and I would feel a yearning to wrap my arms around her and hug her. At the end of some days my face would hurt because I had been smiling so much. Can you imagine what that’s like?
On the Saturday morning I arrived at 10am as agreed. I’m as punctual as she is not. Baltic Babe greeted me at the door just wearing a fluffy, white dressing gown and nothing else underneath. Her hair was a little wild and I knew we were running late, but her smile made me soft inside. Her eyes were shining bright as she turned to go upstairs to go prettify herself as all women feel the need to do. I grabbed her lapels and pulled her closer to me, her eyes widened but they relaxed as I gently kissed her “hello”. I let go of her, we stared at each for a moment, she gave me a beautiful smile and made an approving murmuring sound before excitedly running up the stairs.
She seemed so perfect in that moment. How I felt about her in that short interaction is how I always wanted to feel about a woman, my woman, my other half, the missing half. Right then and there I knew I could be with Baltic Babe for the rest of my life. I had never felt that way before. It was a wonderful feeling.
We drove to a shopping complex on the outskirts of London. It had a collection of shops that she wanted to visit to buy things for her home and take advantage of having me providing a car to transport it all. She was a typical Londoner in that regard; totally reliant on public transport, which in London is no big deal. I didn’t mind being her driver and laying on a car. There was very little I wouldn’t do for her.
It was interesting again to watch her go about her decision making process in the shops as she chose cushions, utensils and an enormous mirror that just fitted in to my little car. She did indeed assess all the options, then narrow it down to two contenders before making a choice. “Hmm…was there another man on the scene?”, I wondered.
As we walked in to a massive Sainsbury’s, it occurred to me that this was our very first grocery shop together. I thought it was a bit of a landmark for us. I pushed the trolley as Baltic Babe filled it up, once again taking advantage of having a car to get it all home. It was late afternoon when we finished unloading the car at her house.
The next part of the day involved me making a barbecue for us. I had brought exotic meats for her to try: ostrich and zebra. In case she didn’t like them, I also brought a leg of lamb. I still wasn’t earning any money and there wasn’t any immediate prospect of me doing so, but I felt that the expense was worth it…she was worth it.
At the beginning of the day I had been thinking that our day would turn out something like this: fun at the shops, I dazzle her with my barbecue skills, I do a few diy chores for her that she needed my muscles for, then we snuggle up in front of the television to watch a romantic movie, then I pick her up and carry her to bed, making sweet, mad love like we’ve never made before.
Stupid boy.
Stupid, stupid boy.
The meats were sizzling on the barbecue when I said to her, “Right, that’s all going nicely. Which diy chore do you want me to do first?” Time for me to be macho and manly.
“There’s that garden tap whose fitting needs to be changed,” came her reply from the kitchen where she was preparing a green salad for us. I don’t eat green salad, but I didn’t tell her. I’m wasn’t going to ruin our happy mood with a bit of pettiness.
We had spoken about the tap before and during the week I had stopped in at a hardware store and bought a new fitting for her. The tap (faucet to my American cousins) was old and rickety. The fitting was rusted on, but I got it off. The tap had come off of it’s housing in the wall, but I had fixed that too. I was pleased with my handiwork. When Baltic Babe came out to inspect it, she didn’t like what I had done.
“Oh no, that won’t do. It looks terrible,” she began with a sad face.
“Erhm, well that’s the best I can do with what I’ve got to work with. Besides, what’s the problem? It’s far sturdier against the wall than what it was before,” I responded, at a loss as to what more I could do.
“It looks so ugly. Can’t you make it look better?” she continued.
“With what?” I responded, a little irritated at her ingratitude.
“There’s a bag of cement in the shed. Why don’t you use that?” she implored.
Not a hope in hell was I going to spend hours to mix up a batch of cement and do cementing as the sun was going down. The meat might burn. That was far more important.
“Sorry, but that’s just going to have to do,” I retorted, intent on ending the discussion there. What I had done was infinitely better than what was there before. The fitting had been changed and I had secured the tap better to the wall.
Baltic Babe skulked off, unimpressed, perhaps even slightly pissed off that she didn’t get her way with me. I wasn’t going to have her bossing me around over every little thing.
Earlier in the day she had told me that she was having to take a day’s leave to be home when a refrigerator repair man was going to be visiting. It had taken her more than a month to get the service agency to agree to send someone out, even though the fridge was less than a year old and still under guarantee. The issue? The drawer for vegetables had a temperature of three degrees Celsius while the manual said it should be two degrees. I remember thinking to myself, “Are you mad?” when I heard her tell me this. It wasn’t the first time I had asked that question in my head.
The meat was ready and I gave her the best cuts. We sat in her garden on foldaway chairs that I had brought. There was a dreadful stony silence between us.
“Oh my god, no!” she suddenly exclaimed.
“What’s the matter?” I naturally asked.
“I can’t eat this. Look at that. There’s blood on the plate! Oh no!”
I leaned over to her plate and saw that the zebra was slightly underdone in one section and a drop of blood had squeezed out on to her plate. She had asked for medium-rare. Oh, the drama.
“Not a problem, I’ll put that piece back on the fire and bring you another piece that is well done,” I said as I took her plate off her lap and walked over to the fire, getting her another piece of zebra.
We sat in silence eating our food. I could tell that Baltic Babe was highly agitated and seething inside. I wasn’t exactly happy either. I had done so much for her over the course of the day and did not deserve her behaviour. Nothing I did was good enough. Because of how I was feeling, the meats tasted like cement and the salads like cardboard. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be!
I was now getting worked up inside myself too. Her ingratitude and small-mindedness was breath-taking. My frustration bubbled over. I turned to her and said, “Do you want me to stay or do you want me to go?”
“I want you to go!” Baltic Babe said instantly and angrily.
Equally quickly I got up and started collecting my belongings. I was angry, but said nothing. I carried stuff out to my car while she collected my other things into a neat little pile in the kitchen. We didn’t say a word, not even making eye contact.
After my second trip in to her house to collect the last of the things, I got in my car and drove off…
When bloody results aren’t good enough – Friday 14th
On the Friday morning my phone burped into life. It was a text message from the NHS telling me that my test results were all negative, in other words, I had not tested positive for any STDs. I was filled with a sense of relief and felt vindicated in my belief that they had over-reacted at the clinic by dosing me with horse tablets and having me scare the crap out of Baltic Babe. I phoned her to tell her the news.
“Hi, I’ve got some good news. My test results came back negative,” I said smugly.
“Good. My test results came back this morning too. I’m also negative” she replied.
I smiled broadly, knowing that the way was finally clear for us to really get it on in the bedroom.
Not so fast, stupid boy…
“When do I see your results certificate?” she asked.
Oh for fuck’s sake!
“They sent me a text message. I’ll show it to you tomorrow,” I responded, clenching my teeth.
“Those sorts of things can be doctored. I want to see a printed certificate,” she snarled.
“Do you really now want me to go back to them and ask for piece of paper?”
“Yes.”
I remember thinking to myself, “Any chance of some romance, Mein Fuhrer?!”
I phoned the clinic and arranged for a certificate to be ready in the next week, for which I had to pay ten Pounds when I collected it. What would she be demanding next, a fertility certificate? Hmm…
I got myself an appointment with a doctor that same day to arrange a fertility test for me. The doctor was a woman with a manly jaw and who seemed perplexed when I told her what I was there for.
“I’ve just started seeing her and she wants a child more than anything else,” I explained.
“The NHS does not do this test until a couple has been trying for three years,” she responded.
“She’s in her late thirties and doesn’t have three years to waste. I don’t want to be in a position whereby, because of my being infertile, I feel that I’ve wasted three years of her waning child-bearing years. It wouldn’t be fair to her. If I’m infertile I’d rather end it with her now,” I replied as diplomatically as I could. I was appealing to her humaneness at the expense of government rules.
The doctor thought about it, her jaw clenched and then she reached over to a special prescription pad and started scribbling away in medical hieroglyphics. She gave me the piece of paper, a surprisingly large plastic bottle and instructions about who to phone to arrange for the test.
I meant what I said about not wasting anybody’s time, my own included. If years down the line it turned out that I couldn’t give Baltic Babe the one thing that she wanted more than anything, our relationship would be irreparably damaged. It didn’t take much thought to imagine how bad that situation would be.
I was looking forward to seeing the look of surprise on her face in a week’s time when I presented all these test results, proving to her once and for all that I was a healthy AND virile man.
I had another surprise in store for her. The previous day I had booked a flight to her country on the same flight that she was on. We were going together in less than two week’s time and at such short notice the ticket was expensive. We had agreed to stay at the best hotel in town, a five star establishment that towered over the city below it. It was somewhere that she had always wanted to stay. As it was short notice, it was quite pricey and she agreed that we would stay in a regular room. I decided to upgrade us to a suite on the top floor. I hadn’t told her about that and I was going to pay the difference. Extravagant for an unemployed guy, right?
Before that all was going to happen, we had planned a fun weekend ahead…or so I thought.
MeAndDating - A Grey Knight's tale 