The Talk, and now things are done.

So, that’s that over and done with. I’ll give a quick bit of background around my previous post first though. I had been spending a bit more time with that girl I’ve been seeing for the past couple of months, she’d not long moved into her new flat and I was up there every couple of days and we were a pair of happy little shaggers. On saturday night she invited me up for a few drinks and I merrily went, a few of her friends were there and we all ended up playing a drinking game, which was a bad idea to start with but it moved at such a slow pace that I actually ended up drinking less than I usually do. She on the other hand, got completely and utterly melted. Some time after midnight her friends left in a taxi and things quickly ended up in the bedroom.

Now, I realise that it sounded as though I was complaining about a night full of dirty, dirty sex, and I was. Because as fun as it undoubtedly was, she became a real pain in the arse, metaphorically and before long literally too. Basically she annoyed the hell out of me constantly, and not in a cute way. When she started asking me to slap her in the face and pull her hair I had no bother with it, but when she hit out with wanting me to make her feel like she didn’t want it, I thought back to Ex, and though I carried on for then, it was a real mood killer for me. I’ve probably developed a whole mental complex around that sort of thing, whether that makes me fucked in the head or not I’m not sure. I don’t mind being dominant, and I don’t mind the… actions I suppose you could say. If you really want slapped in the face, sure I’ll do it, but when I’m being given a role in your head that I really don’t fucking want to be in, then I’m not likely to be around for very much longer.

Which is exactly what has happened. In the wee hours of the morning, when the drink was wearing off, the emotional downer rolled on in for her, and she slurred that she didn’t know what was going on with us, where we were going, and randomly asked me if I hated her. I’m putting that last bit down to stupid drunken thoughts rather than anything else, as we got on great and didn’t have a single argument, there’s no way that she could think I thought that badly of her. I knew right there and then though that it was over, or at least would be within the day. It’d obviously been on her mind, and now it was said, as well as it being the last thing she mentioned before she fell asleep. Sure enough, after I’d listened to her snore long enough to download the WordPress android app, figure out how to work it, write an entire post with a predictive text function that naturally didn’t know any fucking swear words, and make my shameful getaway from her flat she texted me about half past seven in the morning saying that their were some things that we should talk about.

There it was, that clear indication that we were going to have The Talk very soon and I might not see that girl again for a long time afterwards.  During the day we texted and it was all light-hearted, I filled her in on a few of the things she couldn’t remember, asked her if she was alright after getting a bit too enthusiastic about wanting certain things put in certain places. Thankfully she said she was, I would’ve felt quite bad if I left a girl feeling rejected and with a sore arse to match.

In the evening I went over to hers, not really feeling any sense of foreboding, I guess because I knew from the start that this day was coming, and had convinced myself of the whole “one moment in one day in an entire life” side of things to make it seem like it wasn’t much of a big deal, so there was no point in me getting all het up about it. She answered the door and things were normal, it wasn’t as if it was a formal meeting, but The Talk was definitely hanging overhead. We went through to her living room and sat down on the floor, she had a couch but it was tiny and slanted for some reason, plus the carpet was new and comfortable, and people don’t spend enough time enjoying their floors… Anyway, we laughed and joked, at first because it felt natural, but as time went on those clouds got darker, and I think we both knew our giggles were mainly to avoid having to deal with anything remotely serious. I decided that I would take the plunge, looking around to enjoy this flat that I had suddenly started to think I hadn’t spent nearly enough time in.

I asked her what it was that she wanted to talk about, knowing full well the answer but not wanting to seem presumptuous, and partly because if I brought it up it would make me seem somehow worse, the instigator and cause of any pain she felt. Getting the ball rolling was enough, pushing it faster was up to her.

She asked me what I thought was going on, I said that I wasn’t sure, what was it she was looking for, all that shit. We danced around it for a bit, but eventually I had to come clean and say that I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend right now. I wrapped up the old “it’s not you, it’s me” cliché in what I hope was shiny new packaging, but I don’t know if she bought it. The ironic thing is that I was telling the truth, it really feels like a “me” thing. Thinking about it, I can’t fault her for anything. Fuck, the girl’s even got a fucking TARDIS model on her kitchen windowsill, where in fuck’s name am I meant to find another girl like that?

She seemed a bit hurt, but took it well I guess. It was all rather civil, which in some ways made it worse, as it’s a lot easier to storm off or get thrown out than it is to turn round and walk away. I told her I still wanted us to be friends, which I do, and that in a few weeks or a couple of months after things have settled down a bit we should meet up for a drink and hang out. Again, it sounded like the lame shit that the arsehole of the situation always says to the other poor sod. After a few awkward hugs and kisses I left, wishing that she’d be up and fly for me or something, but she didn’t.

About an hour later I met up with Marsha and went a run with her, her boyfriend, and her flatmate. She seems to have a sixth sense about when to pop her head out and say it’s time for a catch up, one of the things I love about the lassie. I wasn’t in the mood for getting all deep and thoughtful about the entire thing though, so instead made a cunt of myself by acting like a heartless prick that didn’t care in the slightest. Which is easy and a few months ago would’ve been closer to the truth, but that wasn’t how I felt now. I actually quite liked this girl, she wasn’t some one night stand or just a fuck buddy, I felt like shit for laughing it off as me getting my hole and to hell with what she was thinking. Bitches ain’t shit etc etc.

Truth is I do care what she feels, and while I might not have been able to picture us together in a year, the next month or so? I could picture that. I can’t see myself being anyone’s boyfriend though, I couldn’t be there all the time for every problem, I couldn’t see a girl through the really rough patches. I’m not the dates and the family holidays, I’m not meeting the parents and deciding who’s going to have christmas dinner where. I’m not growing old holding anyone’s hand.  I guess I’m good times today, and finishing it soon enough to leave every memory a happy one up until the last day.

After I was done making myself seem like a bitter divorced middle-aged man who hates all women I went back to mine where I got a text from her at around midnight, asking me to keep what we got up to on our last night to myself, and apologising for how she acted. I replied that she had nothing to say sorry for, which she didn’t even if she was a pain to deal with that night. She said that she wished she hadn’t had the talk if it meant we could spend a few more weeks together, and that if she’s know that saturday was going to be our last night she wouldn’t have drank so heavily so that could actually remember it. After that she said that I was a great guy, that she was glad we met again and that she hopes I’ll meet someone soon who’ll make me want to try again at a relationship. I told her that she was awesome, and that she’ll meet someone soon who can give her everything she wants, and that I was sorry it wasn’t me.

And that was the end of that. Haven’t talked or texted since. Looking over the texts it was only 26 hours ago, but it feels so much longer. Don’t really know what else to say about it, I’ve certainly rambled on enough. My previous post seems rather harsh now that I read it, way back in the heady days when I was half cut and everything was nice and casual. I quite miss her if I’m honest, but I’m not heartbroken. I’ve spent a lot of time today thinking about things, but I’m not losing any sleep. I can’t decide whether I was right to keep it short and sweet, or if I should’ve carried things on and seen where they went…

I could go on for days at this rate, none of it making much sense as I’ve gotten steadily more tired as time has went on. For now I’m calling it a day. Goodnight people.