bitter
I dunno where that came from. I was just thinking about this gorgeous girl I once worked with, and how nice she was and how much I envied her, probably. I'm just bitter.
Not much is new here. Still waiting on Richard. And it's starting to get to me. I thought I would be fine with waiting, and with any decision he made. But I was wrong. The longer I wait, the more I realise that the likely outcome will not be the one I want. If it's taking him this long, it can only mean one thing - he can't go through with it and it putting off the inevitable break-up. Fuck.
This was confirmed the other night. We were laying in bed, about to doze off, when he apologised for the millionth time for being so shit and indecisive and all that. Normally I would purr 'Don;t be silly' and rub his forehead and play the role of unbelievably supportive, understanding girlfriend. But this time I added the fatal 'Well, do you want to talk about it?'
Basically his problem is this: Remember how adament he was early on about the importance of differentiating between this 'fake' marriage and the reall lifelong commitment thing? Well, apparently he's not sure he'll be able to do that. He's afraid that as much as we try to paint it as a casual thing, it won't hide the fact that deep down it is somewhat serious and real. And since he can't make that sort of commitment now, he doesn't want to go through with it if that is the case.
Which is all understandable, I suppose. But it's hard to see that when the inevitable result is throwing away the most important relationship... I just want to shake him and yell 'It's a choice between keeping me and giving me up for good! Choose me!' The closest I came was making it very clear that if he chooses not to go through with it, I would have to get on with my life, in the States. I can't promise to put my life on hold again and wait around another three years, on some faint hope that he'll be ready for me then and that we have a chance of making it work. That wouldn't be fair to me. Of course, deep down I suspect I'd do just that anyway. I'd be unable to let go. I truly believe we're meant to be together, forever. But maybe that's just dumb naivety. Maybe everyone goes through this at some point. I know plenty of people who moved on after even longer relationships. Maybe they also envisioned life together, forever, before it all came crashing down.
So I've spent the past few days trying to brace myself for break-up. Which is not a good state to be in. I'm sad, I'm upset, and I'm angry at Richard because it's not an easy decision for him. If I'm that important to him, it should be simple. I try to put myself in his shoes, I try to imagine facing this decision when I was his age, and I know I'm being ridiculous. Of course it's not simple. Argh!
I'm not even good at being angry, though. I've been giving him a bit of the grumpy silent treatment, and it has instant impact. I can see how much it hurts him. Which in turn hurts me. He had an exam to study for last night, but couldn't concentrate and kept coming into the living room to hug me and plead silently with his sweet sad eyes. I did my best to ignore it and keep knitting, giving one-word answers to whatever light conversation he tried to make. It lasted most of the night. But at one point he looked positively tortured and I couldn't stand it anymore. I gathered him up in my arms and stroked his hair and told him it would be okay. If only I believed that.
How am I going to survive the next few weeks? I can't even start packing or planning, because I've no idea if I'll be gone for good or only for a short stay. I started looking for permanent jobs back home, just to see what is out there, because I might as well start as early as possible and get my CV circulating. In the process I stumbled upon a few journalism jobs available out here. Do I apply for them? I'd probably be home by the time they selected candidates to interview. And even if I got an interview before leaving and was offered the job, how could I apply for the work permit? I'd need to submit my passport, which I'll need as I'm going abroad. And... argh. The complications. I'm so sick of them.
It's becoming really difficult to motivate myself enough to get out of bed, nevermind take a shower and leave the house. It's been two days since I've done that.
On Friday we went out to socialise. It was awkward. It was another of our indie dance night things, this time with the theme of Scottish pop. We were the first ones there, and sat next to each other at some tiny table in the back of the room. Eventually some friends arrived, then more, and we quickly ran out of seats. It was standing room only around our table, yet Richard and I spent most of the time sitting there together in silence. Plus, all people wanted to talk about was the 'wedding' and I had nothing to say; I couldn't exactly tell them not to hold their breath, it probably wouldn't happen at this rate. I hated it. I wanted other people's company. So eventually I got up and joined the others, standing half on the dance floor. I spent most of the night dancing with Ally, and watching this American musician who was loosely connected with our group but knew no one else there, and spent most of the time standing awkwardly to the side. I had never met the guy, but felt sorry for him and wanted to go save him. In my boredom I was staring, and I'm pretty sure he thought I was flirting. I let him think that, and probably deepened suspicions when I walked up to him, introduced myself and dragged him on to the dance floor.
I don't know what I was trying to accomplish. Maybe I was trying to make myself feel better. Maybe I was trying to make Richard feel something approaching jealousy. Maybe I was just bored. Probably.
In the end, the musician wasn't even that interesting. He didn't even know his music very well, and certainly not his Scottish pop. Not like I'm an expert. Hardly! But... I guess I've come to expect a minimum amount of indie intelligence, and he distinctly lacked it. Have I become a snob?
What I did find entertaining, however, was the amount of Scottish pop 'stars' who turned up at this event. It was almost as if they had come to be recognised and ogled at, a bit of late admiration to swell their egos. There must be nothing better than to hear your songs played at a club and watch the kids dance to it, singing all the words. Even better is to be on the dance floor when the songs come on and to draw attention to yourself as you bow out, saying 'Oh no, I couldn't POSSIBLY dance to my own song!' I particularly enjoyed the spectacle because there were two generations of pop stars there, and I knew for a fact that a member of the younger generation had once stalked a member of the older generation. Yet now they were on equal footing, and friends of sorts, and both playing it cool. And then there were the third generation aspiring stars, networking with the best of them. Brilliant.
I'm getting so old and bitter aren't I? Apologies. You'll be glad to know that I'm about to shower and leave the house. Alison is dragging me out for coffee and cake. Bless her. I don't think she knows what she's letting herself in for. Oooh the dentist just called. I can get my teeth cleaned tomorrow. That worked out nicely. The landlord situation is a different story, however. I've been calling twice a day, every day, with no result. Twat. Grrrrr.... Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Sunshine and butterflies. Chocolate. Mmmm.
