Being friends?

Sorry, its boring I know, but another diary post has to be gotten off ones chest...

The big BDay night went well up until the final hour, which saw another argument between me and AnnE. She and DPSyc had come up to the Stol and we were all gunna stay on the floor around a friends house. D still didn’t know that we had been seeing each other – A had said previously that she didn’t want to tell him to avoid any house awkwardness. This was bothering me a bit as it meant we were still not open in the house- she would, for example, scurry out of my hug if she heard D coming down the stairs. Most of my better friends knew about us and I thought this weekend would be a good time for him to find out. Anyway, AnnE had arrived first. I made an effort to look after her, kept an eye out to make sure someone was with her and went over and talked to her if she was on her own. The drink flowed and eventually everyone seemed to be having a good time. I had gone up to the DJ to ask him to play The Killers' Mr Brightside at midnight as my Birthday came in, but at the last second decided to leave it to fate. 10 minutes later everyone is laughing at me as I do a fucked off dance to Maria Carey's version of All I Want For Christmas Is You. A and I suddenly find ourselves alone – D was off somewhere so I grab her and we have a really good kiss. I hug her and everything feels great.

Much like the young guy in the police drama, who is doing his last drugs bust before heading back to Law School to support his young family, it is all too predictable which way it is going to go.

We dance some more and D comes back. I back off and get my drink. The songs pass and I get bored. I eventually ask her if it’s a good time to tell D about us, but she cant hear me. I grab her hand and take her to a corner, but she still cant hear. I take her outside, where she can hear, but doesn’t listen to me and thinks im being jealous like last week* and having a go at her for dancing with D. I explain I only want to be alone with her so we can kiss, but that I also think its time we told D so we wouldn’t have to be secret. Probably 5 or 10 minutes pass, but we are not progressing. The floor seems to shake a little as she says that its over between us.

I protest but shes sure. I ask for a reason. She says that people always split up. She doesn’t want to fight with me and that if we keep going out we will split up and it will be awful. I was so nice to her last week when she was ill that she realised she doesnt want to lose me. She only wants to be my friend as friends can last forever. I tell her that’s stupid and that people do stay together - that people definitely don’t stay together if they break up before they’ve had a chance of going out properly. Shes asks me to name 5 couples who have stayed together and I give her them without missing a beat, but it does no good.

People start leaving the club, walking past us as I try to talk her round. Toast walks past with some friends and gives me a knowing look as we low five goodbyes. D comes out with Meg and C-Unit. I say to them all that me and A have been going out, but that she has just dumped me. I count at lest 4 tumbleweeds blow past. I turn to D and say 'sorry I didn’t tell you sooner'. They suggest we go back to the flat. I go to get my coat and Anne comes too. She says she doesn’t want to lose me as a friend. This hits a nerve and I tell her to fuck off. We get back to the guys and I check my watch, its 2.35 – ten minutes until the last night bus back to my folks’ house. I say im going to get it, and that D and A should go back to Meg’s as planned. I walk off but A follows me. She doesn’t want to leave it like this. As the kebab queues diminish, and the last few drunks leave the street, it goes on and on. She doesn’t give a better reason than not wanting to lose our friendship when we break up further down the line, even when i suggest a few to her. We soon stop communicating. The layers of arguments become so thick that we are barely touching the cake.

Thinking about it now, she is probably right – we have argued or talked about arguing more than we’ve had fun over the last fortnight, and that isn’t really the foundation for a long term relationship. I can see that logically, but in my heart I still want to make things work out. If she really wants to be friends so much she shouldn’t have kept trying to pull me this year when she was drunk and I was seeing the Twin and LEA. Even when we talked soberly about getting together there was no mention of the friends-being-lost problem. Meg asked me the next day if she thought it might be the case that she was only interested when it was secret and exciting. I hadn’t ever thought that, and don’t really now, but the last paragraph, at least, paints that picture.

What is blindingly obvious is that there are other reasons that she is not saying. I would really like to know them, just so I can take them onboard – they might help me out in the future.

The next morning I wake and feel wholly rubbish. I look around my room and recognise my bedroom as the one at my parents house. The memories of the above flood in and I hope it’s a bad dream. I remember walking A back to the flat and then walking about a park in Clifton wondering where it had all gone wrong. Eventually I got a taxi home and had a good chat with the driver about what had gone on. The texts soon start rolling in from around the country from friends wishing me a happy 30th and hoping that I had a good night out. Among them is A saying shes ‘sorry very very sorry’. I pin some hope to this and over the next day and a half we exchange a few texts- me asking if we had really split, her replying that she was sorry. I eventually phone her to ask her if there is any future for us. I need to know. She says that there isn’t after what I said. I don’t remember what I said but she doesn’t want to go back over it.

So here we are again. Dumped twice in 3 months. I had made a resolution last year to make a greater effort with girls, to take more chances, and it has worked well. But its not a nice feeling to get dumped, especially for a shit reason. Everyone said it was a bad idea to go out with a friend and a housemate, and my current hesitation to head back to the flat serves as fairly conclusive proof that everyone was right again. Despite this, under the same circumstances, I think I’d have to do it again – You’ve got to try these things out for yourself.

There are, however, some positives. I only slept 3 hours on Sat night worrying about this. I managed 5 hours last night, and with the definitive closure gained in conversation today my head feels a lot less like a Spectrum trying to load up Vista, so I might well do the 8. I got over LEA – I certainly dont hate her anymore – and ill get over AnnE. I haven’t even cried this time. Maybe we can even be friends. Don’t get me wrong- I will miss the hugs, and id like a better reason off her when I see her, and I really hope she tries to pull me again at some point so I can tell her to fuck off - but it is obviously for the best if she doesn’t want it, so I will get my shit together and move on. I can plan holidays now, ive got some motivation to train hard and I will not have to worry about her or her problems so much. The biggest positive was realising my friends will be there for me. Meg and C unit took me out the next day even though I barely said a word and C was completely open and philosophical on his previous lost loves as I gave him a lift home. JB and Barbie were on the phone to me straight away and Pman made me laugh out loud for 5 minutes with this text (following on from a ‘cheers for coming, I got dumped at end’ - type effort from me);

We both had a brilliant time! Sorry about AnnE but my brief assessment was nice tits, bad attitude so I think you’re better off without. I hope you don’t somehow get back together and end up married now.

The blogTV show, ‘Living with my ex in the same flat’ will begin in the New Year.

Merry Xmas y’all.

*her dancing and flirting with some cocks last week were The Truth - star of the last post.

The criminal’s address.

Our first house party went quite well. The flat by the sea has been threatening to open its doors ever since we have moved in, but the summer came and went with nothing but clashing dates, and the idea’s momentum was burnt out. DPsyc turned it around when one of his course mates, Zil, had a birthday coming up and was reluctant to do anything for it. He stealthily Facebooked, emailed and called up her old and new housemates, some friends and coursemates, and we all stood together in the darkened lounge while Zil came up the stairs. Her illusion of a few quiet drinks round ours then out into town were shattered with the sharp sounds or party poppers and shrill voices of SURPRISE!

Then it was all over. I had felt more tense than I had hoped, and spent a fair bit of time in sight of some undergrads that I feared might be in danger of breaking, or puking on, some stuff if left unchecked. We played a good party game where you have to pick up a piece of card off the floor using only your mouth, and only your feet can touch the floor, but there were some bendy girls who were better at it than me. I chatted to a guy from the Wakeboarding club, who by chance was also one of Zil’s new housemates. The land of the Plym is a very small place. Then I left on my drive to A’s and Veggies for the Grim8 – a race I had entered at the last minute – and stayed at theirs for the rest of the weekend.

On my return late into Sunday, DPsyc told me that his car had been ‘done over’ sometime on the Friday night. He had called the police and they had informed him that he was one of 12 who had reported something missing or broken from their cars over the Friday/Saturday night. We were later to learn (through a variety of unreliable sources) that a ‘Druggie’ who was new to the area had been out stealing things that could be shifted quickly in exchange for his next hit. What a fucker. DPsyc’s side indicator bulbs were gone, his wing mirror glass removed, his lock destroyed with a screwdriver, but this unsuccessful entry attempt had led onto his back window glass being smashed – even though there was nothing in the car to steal.

Amazingly, the police called back to say that some of the items had been recovered. The guy had apparently been caught, and some of the items, including DPsyc’s side indicators were found. These were returned in a sealed evidence bag, which was obviously some sort of mistake, as it had the address of where they were recovered from, in fact they had the exact location, ‘On coffee table, front room’ of where they were recovered from. The address was about 20 houses down from ours. I once did 6 months work at the Crown Prosecution Service and remember they were incredibly paranoid about sending out witness statements to the defence, as each one had to meticulously checked for any hint of a location as to wear the Witness might be from. Each one had large bits blacked out, and were checked several times by different people before they were posted. The police here obviously didn’t care too much about giving out this guys address to the one of his victims. The guy himself is probably too smacked of his head to care about anything.

I was quite angry about the cars that got broken – thousands of pounds worth of damage – all for one individual who has gone wrong. I don’t know if I should feel sorry for him, or if it’s OK to feel like I do, that he should be put in jail for a long time. I understand that that isn’t really the solution, but I struggle to see what is. We half-to-quarter-joked about what we should send him in the post, or what we should put on his doorstep at 4 in the morning.

Im still not sure.

The week that was

Sunday was the Plymouth Olympic distance Triathlon. I did a new pb of 23 mins for the swim, which A's had bettered by only 4 seconds, though i didn't know this until i got to transition and he was still there, putting on his cycling shoes. Its amazing how much faster a wetsuit makes you swimming; 3, maybe even 4 minutes over 1500m compared to the pool. The bike was one hill after another so felt like I was only ever either flying down, or struggling up a gradient, and didn’t ever really settle onto my tribars and power out some speed. I caught up A’s at 18km and had a brief ‘Hey’ ‘Hows it going’ as I went past. The run was fine for about 3k, but then I began to feel the early onset of cramp in my quads after going up ‘Murder’ hill. This seemed to clear on the flat, then flare up again on any up hill sections, though it never stopped me completely. Mind games I think. I crossed the line in the sunshine some 11 minutes quicker than my time last year. I really feel that I'm making progress and I think if I train hard this year I could make it into the top 20 next year. Great day.

Monday, one day later than Craig David, I chilled.

Tuesday I had my MOT. Everything on the exhaust seems to have become completely knackered. They managed to weld the manifold, but I needed several new hose bits and a new catalytic converter, not because it was knackered itself, but the pipe next it was corroded beyond a weld-repair. With a few other bits and bobs and the labour it was £580. I debated whether or not it was worth paying this out, but my dad convinced me it was. I wasn’t so sure, but went with his judgement. I'm going to save £200 a month this year and buy a new car next year. At least that’s the plan. In the evening I went fishing and finally caught some fish - 4 mackerel to be precise and I eat them for dinner. I caught one on a pink sand eel lure, and then 3 on some feathers.

Wednesday night I went surfing after work with two friends from work. It was predicted as 3-4 stars on Magic Seaweed, but the blue sky and sunshine had larger stakes in my decision to go. We went to Polzeath, which is probably the nearest north coast break, and it was really clean surf, if a little busy. I got out after about 90 minutes and had a look around the rock pools while I waited for the others to get out.

Thursday night the housemates and I discovered yet another reason why the flat by the sea is the best in Plymouth. We have joined the local Tennis club, which cost the mind bogglingly pitiful sum of £15 for the year. The tennis court is grass, but a little bit rubbish, but out behind the court there is a bowling green, another big grass area and a BBQ. It overlooks the sea and is absolutely beautiful. I couldn’t believe there was no one there, and the groundsman later told me that it rarely got used, which seems ridiculous. It’s like having a massive garden for £15 a year.

Friday night (tonight) I'm off back to Bris for a BBQ with friends before we head out on a canoeing trip. We get driven upriver by the canoe company, paddle/float our way down river then camp for the night and then carry on the next day before getting picked up and driven back. Sounds simply wonderful to me.

What is right, wrong, complicated and simple?

Its difficult to say sometimes. It feels like only a few weeks ago that everything was rosy with The Twin. I made a special trip into town to buy new pants and condoms- a trip that occurred rapidly after a

"Hey are you coming down this weekend?"

"Yeah ill come Sat night and stay..?..?" conversation.

Then a few weeks later and not much is happening. The holiday to Biarittz is looming and the novelty and spark remains present, but the distance our homes are apart often makes the spark difficult to see, or at worse, even notice it is there.

Plus, there was another girl incident.

I went to a BBQ with AnnE, the new housemate, which turned out to be a good laugh, a few too many beers and a lot of things to think about. I set out to only have a couple of drinks, but quickly found myself getting through 6 cans, and AnnE began supplying me some of her bottles. Then there were a few shots, and we set out into town. AnnE had touched my shoulder a few times early on, made some eye contact during the BBQ, but at the time I put it down to her being friendly; looking after me as I didn’t know anyone there. Then the contact got more often and more obvious, leaning on me in the hallway while we waited for the others, an arm through mine as we walked into town, grabbing my hand as we entered the club. I was reasonably drunk by now, AnnE had drunk a few, and the other girls were ‘Mortal’ as the Geordie among them so amusingly described. It soon became obvious, even to me, that AnnE was directing the touching and laughing to end in a kiss. A few times she put herself right in front of me and gave me the look, but I broke away, surprised, flattered, confused. She asked me about The Twin- is she my girlfriend? I replied that she wasn't - that I wasn't sure what she is, or was. With hindsight, I should have said that yes she was, as it probably would have made it a more straightforward evening. I didn’t, of course, and the looks carried on to the point where a few times I had to kiss her on the lips then make a point of it only being a peck, with no hanging round waiting for tongues. The dancing and flirting continued and reached a point where I thought I have to either kiss her or tell her not to do it anymore. I pulled her off the dance floor and said something along the lines of,

"I really like you, and part of me wants to go for it, but there are some reasons why me and you kissing here in Jesters (the nightclub- rough as a bag of spanners) tonight is not a good idea. I’d really like to kiss you now (pause, smile) but I don’t think it’s a good idea. We live together, and I’m not really sure where I stand with The Twin, or what’s right and wrong here."

(if only there was a transcript of what actually came out of my mouth so I could compare!)

She seemed fine with this, and although probably a bit embarrassed, a weight of expectation was lifted from us and left us to enjoy the night a bit more. We danced to The Killers, drank a few more, had some banter with the locals and watched from the sidelines as her friends got tagged by the young guns of Union Street. Then we were walking home, holding hands. Then she pulled my hand and arm up around her shoulder. At home we sat on the balcony for a bit and I threw a prowling cat some dog biscuits. There were plenty more opportunities for a kiss, we were close and comfortably so. The boundaries becoming blurred once again. I thought in my head that I still didn’t think anything should happen, so I stretched a bedtime yawn and headed upstairs. She came over for a last hug before bed, and I gave her another brief kiss on the lips, not letting anything more happen. It was goodnight, then the next thing I knew I was awake with a hangover that bent my spine.

My other housemate, DPsyc, and me were heading out at midday to watch the start of the Artemis Transat - a single handed sailing race from here to Boston. AnnE had been out playing squash, but joined us later and there was a slight awkwardness as she came over and sat down. I asked her if she had made it up for squash, even though I already knew that she had. She confirmed what I already knew, and said she wasn’t hung over, just tired. I’m not sure if she means to include the extra meaning included in this statement.

I decided not to tell DPsyc about the nights events, as I’m not entirely sure what he’ll make of them, and maybe AnnE would feel better without me gossiping. I don’t feel like I’ve done anything wrong - in fact I'm quite pleased with myself for both having a girl like AnnE throw herself at me, and for me doing the ‘right’, or if not, sensible thing of not sleeping with her. Later in the evening we sat down and watch Indiana Jones cheese it up in the Temple of Doom, but there is no mention of the previous evening's activities.

There has been complete radio silence with The Twin for 6 days, which does leave me with a lot to think about.

I think I did the right thing. But you never really know until hindsight has taken a good look, do you?

The flat by the sea...

I had a 6 month changing moment last night. Psyc had another row with H-Bomb in the week which I overheard the end of as he shouted ‘well I think you probably should as well’ down the phone as I went for my shower at 7.45 am. Far too early to be talking, yet alone shouting. On the back of that he got motivated to flat hunt, with the plan being that he, one of his course mates and me will get a 3 bed flat/house and live without the wrath of the Bomb. He found one that sounded really good- three
double bedrooms, furnished, and was ready to move into as soon as- which was no small achievement in the Plym. Me and Psyc viewed it yesterday, with Helen, the Lettings person, at about 5.15.
The best thing about it is was its literally a stones through from the sea- the views are of gardens and the sea, and I stood on the seafront, as the sun was setting and marvelled at the possibilities of early morning swims, fishing, and balmy summer evening barbeques. Then we went in the flat and it got even better- the living area was 3 times the size of where I am now, and there will be half as many people. There was a decked terrace where my Brazil hammock would make afternoon chill out sessions a dream, and it had 2 power showers, a dishwasher, and a separate dining room with a roof beam to do pull ups on. There was also a single bedroom that I imagined we could either use as a study, or rent out cash-in-hand to some of the visiting PhDs we get at work for a few months a year- this would make it slightly cheaper than H-Bombs abode, with an order of magnitude more advantages. The only problem I could envisage would be deciding who got what rooms; there were two were large but normal doubles, and one that had its own floor, ensuite and separate mini roof terrace. I couldn’t stop smiling as thoughts of summer evening parties, making a herb garden, and renting a huge TV swirled in my head.

Psyc was just as keen. We are very different people, but get on well and have an understanding that I lack with the rest of my current housemates. He was sure that Aro, his Portuguese course mate would be equally thrilled, and set off to give her a lift to show her the area.

This morning Psyc comes down and shows me a text from Aro saying that after sleeping on it she’s not sure about the place, and whether we would like to go and look at a house in a different suburb.

So annoyed!

Shes not even been in there yet! My summer house dreams may be in tatters. Psyc has said he will try to convince her today, or else we could try and get a third person in. I’ve never done that before but it must be fairly easy? I’m so sure I want to live there I would happily pay the extra rent for a month or two until we found someone else.

On the drive home from our viewing I said to Psyc that it feels like something has to go wrong- we surely can’t be this lucky?

Well maybe it has. Aro, who are you and what are you doing?