Once upon a time, I referred to Mr Unrequited and I as kindred spirits, and on the first night we met, somewhere in the middle of a sausage and bbq sauce filled trip to stay with one of my best friends at uni almost two years ago, we sat up until sunrise chinwagging away like we'd known each other for a million years. I have never had such an instant, powerful chemistry with anybody, and I have never met a man quite like him.
He's creative, he's charming, he's funny, he's the perfect blend of sarcastic and serious, he's ridiculously intelligent and ambitious (major turn on), and not to mention deliciously attractive. And hairy faced. I love me the bearded men. We stayed in touch, and he quickly went on to become one of my most favourite human beings that has ever walked the earth, sandwiched somewhere between Oscar Wilde and Sherlock Holmes. Oh Sherlock, you fine creation, you.
Despite my evident admiration for the man in question, with 71 miles between us and two very separate lives, a future was never really an option. We were just two human beings, with a half-romantic friendship, who occasionally had some kind of perfect rendezvous, before returning to normal life. I didn't expect myself to be as upset as I was when I read the message that I received from him a couple of weeks ago, telling me that his feelings had changed, and that he didn't perhaps see enough between us to make the extra effort anymore. Eeeeeouuuuuchhh. I didn't expect that I would turn off Made in Chelsea (I'm a closet addict...) and blub like a 14 year old for a good 7 and a half minutes. Double eeeeeouuuuuuuchhhhh and awkward face.
Clearly, I got a little too used to him and how things were, and judging by the awkward blubbing, I took to that 'end of an era' feeling like a duck to quicksand. Not ideal. I was also probably guilty of thinking that some day, Em and Dex stylie, this fine and wonderful chemistry might evolve into something a little more consistent. Note to self: refrain from assuming that I am the main character of a best selling novel.
It's common knowledge amongst us humanfolk that unrequited feelings are a bastard and a half. Unrequited feelings that used to be requited, are a little trickier to navigate. Granted, he probably didn't look at me and imagine a wrinkly, breasts-gone-south version of me sat next to him in the lounge, eating 26 jelly babies a minute and reminiscing about our youth (I'm going to be such a sexy OAP...), but he did used to like me, a little, I think. I hope. He used to want to see me whenever I was headed his way, he used to talk about taking me on adventures, and he used to kiss me with a certain level of mutual appreciation.
In the days that followed his email, I played far too much Coldplay, glanced mournfully at a lone pan au chocolat I found in the kitchen, (low moment...we feasted on these like hungry boars the last time I saw him), and beat myself up about the whole situation, wondering what the devil I did so wrong. Was it my expanding waistline?! My awful sense of humour?! Did I say something ridiculous? Bloody norah and crabsticks, was he lying when he said I don't look like Hagrid?
Luckily, prolonged contemplation is my middle name, and I know now that all initial hysteria was just a result of the unexpectedness of his email, combined with the whisky consumption. Woops. Fair enough, he probably was lying when he said I don't look like Hagrid (have you seen the mass of frizz on my head?!), but the man doesn't hate me. His email was in no way an outburst of rage and disgust. In fact, he told me I'm wonderful (take note!), cracked a joke about me ringing him during the footie, and asked about seeing each other over summer, though apparently I skirted over the nice parts of his message whilst in the midst of my typically female, (and very temporary, may I add) 'oh gosh, this is so complicated and awful' emotional breakdown.
In the grand scheme of things, it isn't a complicated situation at all. If anything, it's perfectly uncomplicated. I didn't do anything wrong, and neither did he. People change, feelings change, and paths change, unexpectedly, unexplainably. That folks, is how the world works, and that folks, is why life is such a beautiful and exciting adventure. Violins, please?!
Don't get me wrong, I will always value him for the way that he captured my heart and imagination, for how he's made me feel like I can achieve the things I so desperately want to, for being so polite and charming and willing to listen, for having such an intellectual and interesting mind, for bringing me fulfilling conversation, for fiercely believing in me, for making his face all hairy and handsome looking, for inspiring some of the best things I've ever written, for how we've laid, in silence, for a whole afternoon and had the loveliest time ever, for how he's drunk the last few sips of my wine when he's realised I've been a little too merry, for not laughing at my awful guitar skills, for not ever standing me up at the station, and for making me chuckle with his hideous, lawn-mower shaped dance moves.
It's been beautiful and wildly fun, and I am so, so grateful that I met him, and for everything that's ever happened between us. But I'm excited in the knowledge that Granny B is right. I'm 20 bloody years old. I have a lot of living to do, and a lot to learn about living. Some day, I will feel those feelings for someone again, and some day, Mr Unrequited will meet a lovely girl that won't ring him during the footie.
Whilst I might occasionally look at his delicious face for a little longer than I should, I'm confident that my donkey days of blubbing like a 14 year old for 7 and a half seconds, and glancing mournfully at the bakery's finest goods (pan au chocolovveeeee you) are long gone, and I'm looking forward to just being his friend. Friendship is effortlessly simple. Panicking in train stations about whether I smell of cheese sandwiches prior to his arrival isn't.
He also gets out of kissing Hagrid. Let's all breathe a sigh of relief on his part, please.
I hope you lovely lot are okay! Is there a Mr Unrequited in your life? I like cheese sandwiches. Would you like to make me one?