Saturday, 31 July 2010

Obi Won't

The last time I was excited about Obi Wank, it was akin to planning the perfect heist. I had a plan... Think Ocean's 30!

I drafted an email, something along the lines of:

As with most things, and using a rather crude metaphor I have can attempt to deal with this in two speeds: Full steam or trying my damnedest to steer the ship around? So this is one final attempt of full steam.

I miss you.

In your entirety; mentally, emotionally, physically and intellectually. I miss our dialogue, banter, intimacy and general view on life, locally and globally. I miss the laughter, the good times and the boogie. Sexually, my body craves your body, mentally, my mind is stimulated by your brain and your laugh lightens me.

I want you to be in my life and vice versa, to what extent who knows, but life is vapid without you.

A not-so-wise man once said to me that alcohol loosens one's inhibitions to uncover true feelings. I stop myself short of calling you during daylight hours as sensible me is not sure it's welcome, however after usually a night where I am in good spirits it is you I want to talk to, scrub that, it's you I want to have good nights with. I'm not going to arrogantly assume that I have hurt you immensely, but if I did, I am infinitely sorry. Anything I did was not out of malice, but out of (a sometimes misguided) self-preservation strategy, one that was vetoed a long time ago.

A suggestion if I may?

I have booked a weekend away in Bruges for a weekend over Easter and would love for you to join me, and see if we can regain some sort of friendship and what's the worse that can happen...

I ran the draft past a male friend and he was apprehensive:

Friend: Oh God, girl.
I hope it works out!

Thirty: What have I got to lose?
It seems my sanity has gone.
One Eurostar ticket?

Friend: The price of a Eurostar ticket?!

Thirty: Jinx!

Friend: I want to hug you so much right now!

Thirty: What is money, in the scheme of hings.
things even!

I didn't make the adjustments I was planning to nor even send the email, as in the interim, Obi Wank emailed me. To say bluntly, he didn't think we should be in contact, the end. It was cold and controlled.

I read his email over and over again until it stopped hurting or at least until the physical retching had ceased. To be honest, it wasn't until this morning that I realised how much it did hurt and that's more to do with the fact it's stopped hurting.

To be continued...

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