Autumn in London

It's Autumn again. My favourite season.
The days begin with glorious blue skies and sunshine streaming through my bedroom window. I wake up feeling instantly happy and inspired. Possibly because there is a man in my bed to my left who I feel happy with. We spend the morning in each other's company, enveloped in a dewy satisfied glow, until he has to leave to go to an exhibition, or meet a friend for brunch.
I pour myself a cup of Earl Grey and read a magazine before pulling on black jeans, grey converse, and dashing out to meet a friend for Bloody Marys and Eggs Benedict.
We gossip in a little cafe in Hampstead while the rain has started to fall heavily against the window we're sat next to.
I am always amazed at how different London looks in the rain. Melancholy and miserable. It makes me want to curl up in bed, listening to the sound of it falling, no matter how awake I am. But today I don't mind.
We gossip about the men in our lives and the ways in which they annoy us. We can't decide whether taking too long to respond to a text takes first place over not talking about how you feel...The latter is probably more important, and it makes me wonder how long you can date someone before you feel like you need more from them.
In the beginning, it's exciting to receive a text message out of the blue, or to see them one evening a week, but as time goes on, you find yourself getting more than just a text once in a while. Seeing them a few times a week becomes the norm, as does hanging out with their friends and meeting their family. You begin to predict their behaviour, and when things don't add up to your predictions, you begin to worry.
I have always been a true worrier. Pessimistic at heart, and constantly waiting for something to go wrong. Perhaps it's because I have been so let down in the past, but then again, the memories of good moments always become quickly overshadowed by anything questionable.
A friend of mine once told me that all emotions are good. It's what makes us feel alive. Even in the midst of a breakdown....Feel your emotions. They're raw and real and maybe it's what'll make you better understand them.
After all, whatever will be will be. Until then, be happy. Live in the moment, and don't wait for it to fall apart.

"After all, what is happiness? Love, they tell me. But love doesn't bring and never has brought happiness. On the contrary, it's a constant state of anxiety, a battlefield; it's sleepless nights, asking ourselves all the time if we're doing the right thing. Real love is composed of ecstasy and agony."
- Paulo Coelho, The Witch of Portobello

Goodbye Mr I (don't) LY

The last month has been a whirlwind to say the least.
After a month of intense dating with Mr ILY everything is over before it began, but we'll get to that shortly....

The week following the bbq saw him come over on the Tuesday. I bought a takeaway for us both as he never suggested anything for dinner and I was hungry. It was delicious, but I was disappointed when he didn't say Thank You. Basic manners should be automatically programmed in everyone, but for him it seems they were not.
Later that night, I suggested watching a movie. This in my head translated to 'watching a movie', but it seems he did not get the hint. We reached the end of Factory Girl, and it was only when I switched the lights off 10mins later that he made a move on me.
After incessantly texting/calling each other the rest of that week, he said that he wanted to take me out and surprise me. He told me to meet him in Covent Garden at 7.30pm, and all of a sudden I was overcome with excitement. I hadn't been treated for a long time and my mind began to race with what he could possibly have in store for me.
Upon meeting, it became clear that there was no surprise. He had nothing booked, but did have two Japanese restaurants in mind. Neither of which he'd been to, and as he awkwardly tried to locate them via Googlemaps on his phone, I decided to take the lead and guide us to one of the restaurants he had in mind. Upon arriving, It became apparent that all they served were noodle dishes, and since I didn't feel like that type of food, I suggested the great Thai place next door.
Dinner was great, and the evening was going really well although I was disappointed that there was no surprise. He asked for the bill, and as the waiter placed it down in front of him, I asked whether he wanted to split it. I was being polite! But with no hesitation he said yes. I guess that was the surprise!
When I found out the next morning that he'd been paid the day before and owned 4 apartments (where he charged the tenants double his mortgages), I was pretty annoyed, but decided to give him another chance.
The following week was hectic for me with moving home and a work trip away, so I invited him over to my new flat that coming Sunday. He arrived at 2pm and we spent the day lounging around chatting whilst the faint noise of Murray's tennis ball hitting Centre Court could be heard in the background.
It was nice and I planned to unwind and have an early night when he left.
As the clock approached 10.30pm, I started to wonder whether I'd have to eventually ask him to leave, so when asked me if he could stay the night, I felt bad but told him I wanted my own company. He'd been there for 8 and a half hours already. For me that was enough. He left an hour later.
The following day he text me telling me how happy he was and that he wanted to take me out somewhere amazing...Little old me was still hopeful, but when a few days later I enquired about our Saturday night date and he said that he had nothing planned, I silently rolled my eyes on the other side of the phone whilst wondering if I should make an excuse and not go.
Instead I decided to set him a challenge to organise the entire night, and crossed my fingers. On Saturday I was given a address in Notting Hill and told to meet at 7pm. A little early for dinner, and so I arrived 20mins late.
The restaurant was brilliant. Greek fusion with flavours I had never experience and quirky cocktails to die for. As the bill was once again placed in front of him, I subtly said that I was popping to the loo.
My plan worked, and we headed off for drinks before dessert at my place. The following morning he took me out for pancakes and although I felt happy, I couldn't shake my doubts about him. Needless to say, he continued being lovely, showering me with compliments and so I tried to persuade my heart to love him. It didn't work.
We decided to go to the cinema the following Thursday, but at the last minute I asked if we could go to dinner instead. I was having an early start on the Friday and suggested meeting in Soho so he could easily get the central line home.
We arrived at the restaurant and although I was a bit tired, I felt fairly happy.
An hour and a half into our lovely dinner, he asked me if I am where I thought I'd be a few years ago. I replied saying that a few years ago I was in a 6year relationship with a man I thought I'd marry, so it was a tricky question. He then stated that he "couldn't imagine me settling down ever", and the rest of the conversation went like this....

Me: "Actually, I'm happiest when settled. I just haven't found anyone I'd like to settle with."

Him: "No, I just said that because you seem to go out a lot. You date a lot, and I can't imagine you with anyone".

  Me: "I go out a lot because I was in a long relationship and had never dated. Dating still freaks me out and I am always really careful who I choose to have a serious relationship with because I go into it hoping that it wont end".

Him: "So what do you think in terms of me? Us?"

Me: "It still freaks me out, and I feel in control the whole time which I hate. I feel like I lead everything we do."

Him: " I disagree. I think I'm just more flexible whereas you're quite set in your ways. Y'know, I mean, I don't feel like I can call you up and ask if you wanted to chill in a park or something".

Me: "Why not?"

Him: "Because you only seem to like going to expensive places. You're very set in your ways"

Me: "That's bullshit. One of my favourite things to do is to sit in a park on a sunny day, or lie in bed all Sunday. I treat myself yes, but I don't care what I do when I'm with someone because I usually enjoy their company, and being with them is all I care about, not how expensive the restaurant we're in is. You obviously don't know me very well at all".

Him: "Yeah. I guess I don't".

As we made our way outside, it was clear that everything had been destroyed in a split second. He seemed uncomfortable and awkward as we tried to say our long winded goodbye. He said he couldn't figure me out. For years he hasn't been able to figure me out.
I asked him if I should cancel the reservation I'd made for our double date on Saturday. He didn't say anything so I said I would. He said yes.
The last thing he said was "Ok." as we instinctively turned our backs to each other and began walking in opposite directions. In my daze I walked from Soho to Chelsea, and luckily avoided getting hit by 4 cars.

I knew I would never see him or hear from him again.

Mr I Love You

I had heard that a past fling had recently become single again, and so I contacted him asking him whether he was attending a mutual friend's BBQ later that day. When he said he was, I felt excited to see him, but also a little nervous.
You see, we had dated briefly a few years back, and he had always wanted more from me. I was in love with someone else at the time, and after a couple of dates told him that I just wanted to be friends. In the months that followed, my behaviour was pretty unreasonable.... Getting drunk and kissing him in front of all our friends, leading him on constantly and rejecting him numerous times. He'd halted all communication with me and rightly so. Not long after, he began dating a colleague of his, and upon bumping into them earlier this year, it seemed fairly clear that they were very much in love and happy together.
You could imagine my shock when mere months later he ended the relationship after realising he wasn't in love with her and couldn't continue...She was devastated.

So there we were at the BBQ, slightly awkward and trying to sustain conversation as though nothing had happened. It was going pretty well. Mr Captain Morgan was certainly helping, and I was trying to send obvious signals to no avail. When a small group of us decided to bail and go to a house party in a lavish Canary Wharf apartment, I felt like I had the chance to let him know I was interested.
Upon arrival, I immediately felt under dressed in my grey converse skinny jeans after seeing a full room of girls dressed and made up to the nines. I saw his eyes light up and silently said "SHIT" over and over to myself in my head.

He started chatting to a pretty girl and I began to sulk, stating to my friends that I wanted to go home. One friend reassured me, and after speaking with her I decided to talk to him.

Bringing up the past, I started to apologise and he asked me to talk with him outside in the hallway. We made our way through the sea of skinny legs, and false eyelashes. Once outside, he pushed me up against the wall and kissed me. I finally felt that perhaps I had got through to him, but once we were back in the party, he started chatting with a blonde girl. All very flirty- punishing me perhaps?
I began getting more and more annoyed until I finally marched up to them, sarcastically apologised for interrupting the conversation and asked to have a word outside.
He apologised and I accepted. It it always difficult to protest when you are being passionately kissed against a wall.

We decided to leave and headed back to his place where our clothes were quickly lost and I experienced a higher dose of passion than that of the hallway earlier. As we drifted in and out of sleep, his arms were around me all night, pulling me into the concave shell of his body while dotting my back and neck with kisses.

In the morning we slept together again, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
He was above me. Staring at me, looking into my eyes. I started feeling a little self concious from the intensity of it all. When all of a sudden, he looked as though he might say something, but stopped himself at the last minute. But then, whilst our eyes were still interlocked, he uttered very softly "I love you".
I immediately wondered whether he'd really said it or whether my mind was playing tricks on me. But then for the second time, in a whisper, he said it again. I was shocked, and his admission was met with silence.
We just continued as though nothing had happened, and shortly after I left to meet a friend for brunch despite him asking me numerous times to stay a little longer.
He walked me to the tube (I was now very happy that I was wearing my converse and not heels!), and we kissed goodbye.

Another date is on the cards, but if those 3 little words are uttered again, it may be time to run...

Nice Stalking to You

I have dealt with many mentally derranged human beings in my life, and a few have factored into my love live. A a couple of weeks ago, another routine 'crazy' cropped up. It was about time. The previous crazy (who you can read about here) had been around 9 months ago, and it seemed that the world was throwing me another for good measure.

What was supposed to start out as just a quiet dinner with a friend on a Friday night, turned into a chatty dinner followed by expensive Gin and Tonics at a Chelsea bar and then onto a slightly more expensive club where the g&t's tasted like they contained quadruple shots of Gin. This would have contributed to my rather large beer goggles when I started talking to a gentleman shortly after. Having established that his friends weren't nearby (or perhaps they were never even there...), I felt quite mean to tell him to leave... So I took pity on the short, average looking man, and may have treated him with a smooch before regretting it and telling him I was off to the ladies whilst already half legging it out of the club.

Once outside, my friend and I were trying to hail a cab home to no avail. Two guys next to us were doing the same thing, so naturally we got chatting.
I started teasing them after assuming that the two girls staggering away from them were originally being taken back to theirs and had changed their minds. The two guys found this amusing, told me I had good banter (I try), and invited me to their housewarming party the following night. We shared a cab that dropped them to their residence on The Kings Road, and headed on home where I blissfully collapsed into my heavenly bed.

The following day was naturally a write off, but that evening I'd agreed to have drinks in Camden with a friend who had been away for a month and a half.
It was a easy, chilled evening and I strolled home to bed at the ripe old time of 10pm, only to be woken up by a text from Taxi Boy at 3.35am.

"Hey...how was the rest of your cab last night? Are you out tonight?"

Now I'm no grandma, but it was 3.35am! What planet was this guy on!?
I replied the following day, and we engaged in a text conversation. It became clear early on that he was wanting to arrange some sort of meet up, but there was one little problem.... I couldn't remember what he looked like. At all. Nor was I sure I wanted to see him. He asked what my Bank Holiday plans were, and I said I was heading off to a spa. He then invited me to his friend's house for a BBQ that coming Tuesday.
Strange. No drinks, no dinner, just a casual meet and greet of ALL of his friends.
I text him on the Tuesday and politely declined. At this point in time I had made the decision not to contact him again, and had structured my text so that he need not reply, but then...

"No worries. How was the spa?"


I didn't respond. A few days came and passed and I thought he had got the message, so you could imagine my amazement when I received another text 4 days later.

02:34am: "Are you on The Kings Road tonight?"

Again I didn't respond. While I thought it was strange that he'd text again ( I wouldn't do so myself), I put it down to the weekend and the fact he may have been out drinking... Until the following night when I received this...

01:49am "Hey..."

02:17am 

Yes that's right. He text me a photo of some food. With no explanation!

The following day I received a full stop as a text from him, and since then, nothing thankfully! I am praying that I wont hear from Taxi Boy The Stalker again, but I have to say I'm fairly thankful that when life gets a little serious, the powers that be will always throw in something to tickle your funny bone.

Kiss from a Stranger

It was a Friday in mid August 2011 and little did I know that evening would turn out to be the most fun I'd have that year.
My friend and I decided to start our night off at a cool Kentish Town Pub, as we did most Friday evenings during the summer of 2011.
Marlboro Lights were smoked and double gin and tonics were sunk in the bustling beer garden, and after a few drunken shapes were thrown on the small dancefloor, we set off in pursuit of more space and better music.
We made our way to a Salsa Club in Camden and having persuaded the doorman to let us queue jump, we were debuting our Salsa moves in no time.
Another cigarette break in the outdoor area and we got talking to a few guys. We spent the rest of the night hanging out with them (on a platonic level) and dancing in that free, careless wild way you do when no one is watching you.
Before we knew it, the lights were on, it was time to leave, and despite the suggestion from a guy we met (who we affectionately christened 'Miguel back to mine') of a party back at his place which would consist of just us three, we left.
As we set off to find yet more cigarettes, there was no suggestion of retiring to bed.

Walking through the warm summer night air (made warmer by the alcohol content in our blood), I stumbled upon a guy who was walking in the same direction with his friends. There was something that instantly drew us towards each other, and we were dragging along slowly behind our friends. His name was Donald, which I instantly took the piss out off (apologies to any Donalds that may be reading!), and thus he was known as Donald Duck from that moment on.

A mere three minutes later we had lost our friends so decided instinctively to cross the street. When it became clear that we had no idea where we were going, we stopped walking and he kissed me.

The world stopped for a minute and we were frozen in time. He cupped my face in his hands and as his soft lips gently brushed against mine, I melted inside.
If ever I had had a 'movie-like' moment, this was it.

We were alerted by my friend loudly calling my name from the opposite side of the street, as though she feared I was gone forever, and slowly we made our way back to our parties.
His friends were waiting for him in a taxi and I declined his invitation of continuing my night with him. After a final goodbye kiss, we looked at each other in a way that was electric and indescribable, and with that he was gone.

I have kissed a fair few frogs in my time, but this kiss still remains as the best. Even now as I write this, I have butterflies.

All that, and it was a kiss from a stranger.

(Fun fact: The photo above was taken minutes before I would meet the kisser)

Home via Pimlico

As I strolled home from dinner on a warm May evening, I was overcome with sadness. Two days had passed since I found out that the flat I was due to move into in just shy of a month's time had fallen through. I had just managed to visualize myself there, and all of a sudden I now had to start from the beginning.
I cut my budget and decided to move out of my neighbourhood.
Lovely lovely Pimlico. My part of town for the last 4 years. I found myself strolling even slower; savouring each step through the grid.

These streets reminded me of the West Village in New York. I had gone there 3 summers before with a person who was now a stranger to me. We had strolled up through Perry Street on a hot summers day, seeking shade beneath the trees that lined the edges of the pavements.
And we'd had dinner outside on 259,West 4th Street, sheltered from the sudden heavy rainfall. It was still warm, but the rain brought on a slight panic to the city, and all of a sudden everyone seemed to be running for their lives. I felt calm, safe, happy, sitting next to the man I loved as we watched a lady with a short-haired daschund trying to get her stubborn dog to walk faster through the rain.

I remember calling my mother two days into my week long trip and telling her that at some point in my life I would live here. It had exceeded all of my expectations and in a strange way it instantly felt like home.
I had since stopped missing the man sitting next to me in that restaurant, but I yearn to walk those streets again.
Pimlico had been my replacement. My little apple, and it scares me thinking that I might pine for it when I'm gone. For my flat. My home. My big marble fireplace with candles scattered all around and floor to ceiling windows. My florist around the corner, who I go to to pick up bunches of Anemones, Ranunculus and Peonies on a Sunday. Of course that all sounds silly since I can return any time I like, but this era is ending whether I like it or not, and I don't know if I'm ready.

Last night I sat on my balcony in a sleeveless shirt with a mug of peppermint tea in my hands and I decided that an outdoor space really is essential. I breathed in the musky polluted London air, and wondered why I was the only one in my street to be enjoying it.
As I looked around, I could see glaring tv screens and drawn curtains. Everyone seemed to be shutting themselves in, away from the warm evening and views of the streets. I was baffled.

As I sleepily retreated to bed, I lay and looked around the room. All it was was bricks and a lick of paint. A door here, a window there. A few paintings on the walls. A pigeon grey jug of light pink peonies on the side. Two books on my bedside table next to two gold rings and Geranium and Orange Neals Yard hand cream.
All replaceable things. Suddenly I wasn't so worried, and as I drifted off I realised that my home would always be wherever I was.