Walk This Way...

So my blog posts of late have been sporadic and a little mad and random. I think I've probably started about 5 or 6 and ended up saving them as drafts, not quite knowing what to post or how to post it. A seeming amount of writers block maybe? Or more to the point, maybe I've just been struggling to come to terms with how things have been going in my head of late, and not wanting to put pen to paper and say something I might regret, or not even mean, I've been trying to step back and analyse things first to give me some clarity.
So excuse the muffled attempt at a 'poem' that was the last blog post. I was beside myself with something or other. And if I didn't know better at the time, I'd have said I was 'on something', but I really wasn't! I've had one disasterous attempt at taking recreational drugs, even though I've always stipulated I have more respect for the scientific workings of my body than to try it. But that was at part of my extreme low point, and it's something I'll never go back to! Ever! And as for alcohol, after my pitiful (and thankfully it was) attempt at suicide and a gut-full of paracetamol, I can't so much as have more than a glass of alcohol (not even spirit and mixer) without bringing it straight back up, so I was clean and sobre. Just incredibly random. So sorry for the poetry post! I think I'll stick to factual, feeling-based prose in future, unless I have a moment of unadulterated genius!

I've had a mad few weeks. I'm probably going to go over some things, perhaps with a new spin, as I'm finally in a position to put a perspective on my life of late, so excuse any steping on old ground.
So FT came back from the US, and I met her at Gatwick airport as she'd had a mix up with the airports which she was flying from and returning to. As I've said before, she was extending her trip to NY to visit someone in New Orleans, which I was very concerned about. I got to the airport early, and was sitting there, reading my Jeremy Clarkson book, half sure she wouldn't be on that plane, and I'd have to jump on one to go and rescue her. I was scared she wouldn't come back. I was scared she couldn't come back. Maybe I'm sounding a little weird here, but I really was fearing the worst. As it turns out, I didn't have anything to worry about quite as much as I was doing, as usual I did blow things out of proportion abit. But I did get a bit of the impression that things weren't quite as clear sailing as she'd expected them to be, and perhaps my worst fears weren't completely unfounded. Either way, the incredibly early morning for me and all the worry was completely worthwhile when she appeared through the arrivals lounge. I think I forgot right there and then how or why I was so worried, and I was just so pleased to see her. I wanted to wrap my arms around here then and tell her how good it was to see her. It'd been ages. But I had to hold back. She was tired. And the last thing I wanted was her thinking I was some crazy ex, so I backed off. Half relieved that I didn't have a ring in my pocket so I couldn't do something stupid like get down on one knee, which was of course what I wanted to do when she came back from Africa when we were still together.
I've been managing to do a fairly good job about bottling up how I feel, or at least expressing it. I suppose I am developing a self preservation streak after all. I know how I feel, and that has never changed, not even after everything that has happened, and in the time we've been apart. Yes, I have been able to try and move my life on in spite of how I feel, and succeeding to a certain extent, but it doesn't change how I feel inside. I went up to Sheffield while FT was away, and even there I was telling Dora the self same thing. I think my exact words were 'even after all this time, even after everything that's happened and is happening, I'm still madly in love with her, and miss her more than she'll ever understand. And I'd still do anything for her, but I can't destroy me in the process'. And there is the difference in me. I couldn't say that before.
So I'm at the airport. And I wanted her to hug me, and tell me that she'd missed me, and maybe even say she'd had a crap time. Well, I'm only human afterall. I guess we're both adapting to self preservation. She didn't say it. But I knew something was up when she started crying behind my sunglasses she'd borrowed in the car. I knew she was hurting about something. And I knew I was hurting. I didn't press things. I love her too much to want her to hurt. I just wished it didn't have to be like that. And yes, it hurt like hell.
I got her to the station, and we were waiting for the train. Even with her tired, well, exhausted to be honest, just having her around made me smile. Like I said, it was worth the effort and even all the pain to feel like that again. Having coffee in the station, something happened. I don't know how or why, but we kissed. And then both blushed completely. We both knew it shouldn't have, and that we should have been stronger and kept things, feelings at bay. But it did happen. I didn't know how to post after that. How can you put into words quite what is and has been going on? I mean, it doesn't matter what we say, or what our heads know is a sensible thing to do and what isn't, but we both know each other well enough to know that we both feel something for each other stronger than just a 'friendship' vibe. And I really can't put things into words, because anything I say makes things look like I'm trying to extrapolate a situation to see what I want out of it. But that isn't the case. For the first time ever, I actually feel like I'm moving forward in all this, but there is something there. For the first time ever, I've been actually understanding how I feel. And what I feel is pure and utter, unconditional love for her. I do still firmly believe she's my soulmate, and that there will never be anyone for me like that ever in my life again. I'm in love with her, but I understand now how to live with those parts of my feelings surrendered and accepting that she may not ever feel the same way. It's the difference between survival and not. I'm not extrapolating the situation, which is why I couldn't post about it. She was coming down to London this week, and we were having dinner. I wanted to see how that went.

Before she went to the US, and we started talking on the phone again, we were talking about things with us being a battle of three things: the head which says to move on and stay away from each other, the heart which says we love each other and can't live without each other, and the pussy which says we're still incredibly attracted to each other and want to fuck each other at every available opportunity. And how things were an ongoing battle of what won out.
It's the same for both of us. I think that sums the situation up really well.
When she said she was coming to London to do some work experience, she asked if I wanted to go out for dinner. My instant reaction was 'yes, of course, I can't wait to see you', and then my second was 'hang on a minute, you only want to go out for dinner to prove your head right and your heart and pussy wrong, so I should say no so as I don't completely ruin things'. And her response was 'yeah, maybe your right, but you should say yes and be hell bent on proving me wrong'. So we arranged dinner for this Monday night.
I so wanted everything to be perfect. But as is my usual stance, I focus so hard on an event, and it completely takes over everything. I planned this amazing Italian meal at a posh restaurant near the Thames near Westminster bridge, and I wanted it to be all posh and special, and I wanted to look amazing and go out of my way to show her what an incredible woman she is, and then we could go for a walk along the Thames with Spoons after. Only it didn't quite seem to go as I'd intended it to! I mean, we had an amazing meal, and the restaurant was incredible, but I was so on edge about wanting everything to be 'just so' and to make her happy, I don't think I relaxed for a second the whole night. Well, not until we were walking along the Thames with Spoons running up and down and eating all she could find... naughty monkey.
I was really dispondent that night. I think I felt like I really had lost it all completely, and I'd proved her right in convincing her head it was right all along and that she really could ignore the heart and pussy after all. She said that I didn't express myself anymore, and I was like I used to be when we first started seeing each other and I was nervous and unsure. And that's exactly how I felt.
It felt like the crap first date you have when you really want to impress someone, and it just doesn't happen the way you imagined. She asked me to stay over that night too. It's make more sense than travelling back to lowly Peckham of all places really late at night, which wasn't the safest thing to do. But I was just feeling so dispondent, like I'd had the opportunity to show her the real me. The me who I always wanted to be, but for one reason or another when we were together, I coudn't be carefree enough to do it, and I'd screwed that up. I felt pretty low again, but knew I'd set myself up for the fall this time. We'd ended up together on the bed, me giving her a foot massage as both our feet were killing, and we both wanted each other. But I didn't want to do something she'd regret in the morning, and I just couldn't help thinking that if she'd found the evening as disappointing as I did, then it would just confirm things even further for her, and neither of us needed that. I didn't want to hurt her, and I didn't want to hurt myself.
I reluctantly left, having more respect for her than to jump into her knickers when it was the one thing I wanted more than anything. Knowing that it was never and never will be, about just sex.
I'd spent the night on edge, and I wanted to show her I cared. I wanted to show her what she meant to me, and I wanted her to know how much I've missed her. In every way, not just a sexual way, and I just felt like I'd go so caught up with wanting to make it all perfect, that I hadn't achieved any of that as I wanted to, and I wasn't going to demean her by going down a sexual route. I think more of her than that, and she's worth so much more than that.
So I left like the perfect lady, after teasing us both senseless, with plans to spend the whole day together on Wednesday with me possibly staying over to take her to the station on Thursday.
I text her and asked if she was OK when I boarded the bus. I got a reply saying she was much better now she'd had a hot bath and an orgasm. I travelled home with extremely wet knickers and gave myself one when I got in.
And then I went to bed looking forward to Wednesday, when I was hoping things would be very fun, and very normal and natural. I figured I'd made a complete fool of myself already and couldn't make things any worse Wednesday, so it would be nice to spend some pressure-free time together and have lots of fun.

...Little did I know things on Monday maybe weren't as hopeless as I thought they had been when Wednesday came...