Anxious days…

That night though as we were in bed together, I asked her about how serious we are… such a stupid question. The girlfriend question….

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It has been a tough couple of weeks. Am travelling now and will be away from Brazil for three weeks over Christmas. I wish I could say that it is letting me relax a little, but my head doesn’t let me do that too much.

I started seeing a girl about three months or so ago. We hit it off straight away, and I have to say that I am crazy about her. First girl since my ex-wife that I have actually really liked. So much so, I stopped sleeping around with others–not because we’re “girlfriend and boyfriend”, whatever that means anyway–far from it. Rather because I just don’t want to sleep with others. I would much rather just be with her.

At the same time it’s strange. She’s very busy at work, and doesn’t reply to my messages so frequently; maybe once or twice a day. Sent her a message last night (Sunday) which she heard last night but didn’t reply to, and it’s morning now. I don’t bombard her with messages, and certainly don’t ask why she hasn’t replied–there could be any number of reasons. But my head often starts wondering down that track of asking itself why isn’t she replying? Did I say something? Does she like me as much as I like her? Wouldn’t it be nice if she actually replied a little sooner?

A week and a half ago, she had an event outside of the city for the weekend and went a good couple of days with no messages… I got myself pretty worked up, with my head going round in circles, imagining the worst about what might be happening at that event. It was difficult to stop myself crying sometimes as dark thoughts of general hopelessness entered into my head.

But when she got back, we saw each other again at the office’s party, the night before I travelled. Which was great…

That night though as we were in bed together, I asked her about how serious we are… such a stupid question. The girlfriend question. She got upset, thinking that I wanted every moment with her (she got out of a very long term relationship a bit ago)… which is again, far from the case. She said that she didn’t think she was good for me. Which hurt as I love every minute with her. For me, I want her as my “girlfriend”, but want her to have her space, and me to have my own; for her to go out with her friends and vice-versa; see each other on weekends if possible. For me it just means neither of us cheating on the other, and a bit of commitment. When I said that, she seemed to be better, which was nice, though it left a bit of a bad taste in my mouth as the last thing I wanted on our last night before I travelled was for her to get upset.

So now I am here; away from her; wishing I could be with her. Waiting for a reply and trying not to keep looking at my phone to see if that reply is there.

School years – the start of it all

By the time I was 13, I was pretty much on the verge of some sort of breakdown: another kid just needed to look at me for me to burst into tears, and they knew it. One of the worst moments came when I was 12 and pissed myself in class as I was too afraid to ask to go to the toilet.

After growing up on sparsely populated islands, moving to the larger city of Lancaster in the north of England when I was around eight years old was quite traumatic for me. School suddenly became much less friendly and I struggled to adapt. I would cry a lot then kids would make fun of me… it was like a vicious circle…

I remember well when it all started: I was at primary school when I was eight, and two of my older sisters who were at the same school suddenly weren’t there on a particular day—they were on a school trip. In the playground I started looking for them and couldn’t find them, and I remember starting to cry because of it. This caused some amusement with the other kids who laughed at me, and that in turn caused me to cry more… I remember teachers telling others in the class about people with “thinner skins” who were more sensitive than others… that didn’t work, for sure.

I swiftly became known as a “cry baby” as I literally was crying at school at least once a day and more often than not, two or three times. This was something that continually inspired others to make me the brunt of their jokes. Other things like an accent that was completely different from that of Lancaster didn’t help: I was seen as the posh kid, which helped to further put a target on my head. Understandably I guess as kids can be cruel to an easy target.

This would continue for years. By the time I was 13, I was pretty much on the verge of some sort of breakdown: another kid just needed to look at me for me to burst into tears, and they knew it. One of the worst moments came when I was 12 and pissed myself in class as I was too afraid to ask to go to the toilet. The teachers understandably became tired of it and rather exasperated by it all, and I don’t think anyone in my family really knew what to do. The only solution that was came up was changing school. And indeed, two primary schools and three high schools later, by the time I was 17, I was only just starting to get that mystical “thick skin”. Still seen as strange and alone, with zero confidence to really speak with people… but… at least I wasn’t crying all the time.

In the midst of all of this, I remember when I was ten not being interested in girls, though that swiftly changed when I turned 11 and went to my first high school. In spite of being deeply unpopular and certainly not cool in way whatsoever, I became infatuated with a girl two years older than myself… so much so that I saved up my pocket money to buy a £10 ring for her at a jewellery store. We all got on the same school bus and she lived quite close to me. One day after we got back, I went to my place via hers to knock on her door and give it to her. Needless to say, my affections were not returned, though at least the ring was given back a few days later.