Well, all is packed and my passport has returned. Looks like I'll be enjoying an Indian meal on Friday, and a Thai restaurant in London Saturday. Can't say I'm sad to go, not now. Will return one day for holiday, but maybe that will be a long time away. So I am told, they won't allow me back for 5 years when I leave this time. So be fucking it.
Will head to London for a few days, then down to the South of France. That will be a nice break. It will be good to see my parents, walk the dog and all that attendant home and family stuff.
Looks like all ties are severed with her. She fell out with me hugely on Sunday and said she never wants to see me again. Refuses to answer her phone or respond to texts. For a bullshit reason. Well, as this will be the last time I'll write about her, I'll put the situation down:
I was asked to arrange a guest list for Sunday lunch. She was interested and we put one together. Then the housekeeper said she had done it and the list was full. We cancelled our guests and decided that we were not going either, not to the 'cleaning lady's luncheon'.
Sunday morning, the boss asked me to go and buy some wine. When I came back he asked if I was going, and I told him I wasn't. He said he really wanted me to go, so I reluctantly agreed to support him. I then phoned her to let her know. I woke her up, and she said that she was tired, having not slept well, was spending the afternoon sleeping and would call me later, goodbye. Phone down. I didn't get past the 'How are you today?'.
So what do I do? Call her back? So I went to the lunch on my own, thinking at least I'd get some food and a drink in me. She called a couple of hours later, asking what I was doing. I told her I was at the lunch and she went fucking bananas, accusing me of not inviting her, bullshitting her etc etc, then put the phone down. She wouldn't answer the phone to me, so I texted her, apologising (why?), and she sent me a single, brush off response, ending 'Have a nice life'. Texted yesterday but no response. I see her on-line on Skype, but if she won't answer her mobile, she won't answer that. What a shame to leave on such bad terms. I will be leaving in approximately 24 hours and might not be back here for 5 years. The one person I wanted to continue any form of communication with has blown me out, and that wasn't my fault. I do think that it was just an excuse though, but hardly see the point if I am leaving anyway (after a lot of discussion and agreement with her), and she is also leaving next month. So why part on such bad terms?
I will text her when I am crossing the border - the last message I will send on my local mobile number. And wish her happy birthday in April. Apart from that, it has to be up to her - I am not going to harass her. She made it plain she doesn't want a relationship with me, and now is making it plain she never wants to see me ever again. I have told her how I feel about her - completely, and it is she who does not want that.
The most beautiful girl I have ever met. She brought sunshine to my life. The boss did ask me if I wanted to bring her with me, and I said 'yes', but could not as she is house-sitting, does not like London, and does not really want to get further involved with me. Had hoped we would meet in Europe somewhere, but now I know that if we do, it would be a frosty experience. Unlikely though, Europe is a big place, and I'm only small.
I do wish her happiness, but think it will become ever more difficult to find as she gets older. She's 36 now, and still single; her clock is ticking far more urgently than mine, and with every passing birthday, she will become less of a catch, especially if she remains so volatile. Maybe my offer is not the best, but at least it was sincere.
So it looks like this is the last words I will write about her. Sorry to have gone on about her over the past few weeks, but she truly captured my heart. Now she is gone, I'll have to fill the hole - and my writing here - with other stuff. Love her, miss her, want her. So very sorry.
Tuesday 25 October 2011
Saturday 22 October 2011
Ready for the off
Plan is to leave Wednesday. Still believe it when I see it though. I will gladly place a bet the my passport will not be ready in time, and the boss will have to go to Poland without me. For whatever reason, they will fuck up my departure, even though they don't want me here. I reckon it's the car. They will do anything to stop me taking it out of the country; their plan is to get me out and leave the car.
Am packing anyway. Will still drive him to the border, but know that if he gets to the airport without me, I'll be impounded here until Christmas. Fucking Hell. She leaves in a month and then I'll be completely alone. She's now more interested in the chap that's following me - my communication link. She certainly has plans for him, and possibly plans for this apartment. Very interesting; she kind of wants to follow me, but kind of doesn't. I'll go where I go now, there will be a trail and the prize is so very well worth having, but you really have to be dedicated.
So many opportunities have opened up; I just need to get out from here. Don't believe that I'll ever spend more than a fortnight here again if I can possibly avoid it.
Have I a photograph to share today?
Am packing anyway. Will still drive him to the border, but know that if he gets to the airport without me, I'll be impounded here until Christmas. Fucking Hell. She leaves in a month and then I'll be completely alone. She's now more interested in the chap that's following me - my communication link. She certainly has plans for him, and possibly plans for this apartment. Very interesting; she kind of wants to follow me, but kind of doesn't. I'll go where I go now, there will be a trail and the prize is so very well worth having, but you really have to be dedicated.
So many opportunities have opened up; I just need to get out from here. Don't believe that I'll ever spend more than a fortnight here again if I can possibly avoid it.
Have I a photograph to share today?
Make of it what you will.
So now I have a trip to London, with a couple of Cheshire visits. Might even try to pop to the Lake District for a couple of days. Then after say 2 weeks in the UK, a run to the South of France, and some time at a farmhouse there. Then, perhaps here, but I feel Asia calling. HK is possible, and with success there, could bounce to Thailand and repeat, progressing another project. One friend is suggesting Long Island. Hmmmm jury is out. I still don't know how far progressed I am on this trip and what I'm taking with me. And what I'm leaving behind.
Thursday 20 October 2011
Fun and Games
Yesterday took the biscuit.
The boss was flying over to a small airport in Poland. He asked me to collect him. All the visa shit that went down earlier was a result of learning that I could not leave the country to pick him up. If he hadn't been coming in, they wouldn't even have gone that far.
Anyway, I discussed this with him, and we agreed that he would be collected by a Polish chap at the airport and driven to the border. He then walks across and I wait on the other side in the car. We have a driver, so I could sit and chat on the way back to the city.
Yesterday, an emissary was sent from the office to dissuade me from going. Initial gambit was that is was too late and I'd be tired, so no need. We had arranged to set off at 9pm, so would return about 1.30. Not too late.
When I said it was no problem, I was then told that I couldn't go as my passport is not with me (at the lawyers). Smelling a rat by now, I explained that I was not crossing the border, nor was I driving. Surely I don't need such a document to be a passenger in a car? I would take the risk, as I really wanted to go see him.
Then the muppet from the office just said, 'We propose to CANCEL your going to meet him. So we will do that." I then insisted on the reason for this, saying that I had personally arranged this with the boss, and why was this such a problem? He went pale, and asked me why I insisted on going. When I replied "because I do, what the fuck is your problem with that", he rushed off and there was a lot of consternation in the building.
So we went to dinner. A very nice dinner on the outskirts of town. She was good fun and I realise how much I will miss her. It is a shame that it will never be; we've wasted a great opportunity.
The intermediary phoned to say my driver would be at the building in 30 minutes. We had arranged to go at 9.00pm, so after finishing dinner I walked back to the office, arriving at 9.00pm. No driver. No car. On the phone to find out where he was - nobody knew. Eventually I discovered that his phone battery was flat, and he didn't answer the phone until he was 50 miles out of town, heading for the border.
I told them to turn the fucker back. He returned to collect me, taking me to a different collection point then the boss and I had arranged. He did get a few calls on his 'flat' mobile en route, so the meeting point was legitimate. On the way back I explained how they had so deliberately tried to stop me from going to collect him, and in general always tried to block me whenever I wanted to use the car. He was not impressed.
Upshot is, I'm out of here. South of France for me. And I'm taking the fucking car.
The boss was flying over to a small airport in Poland. He asked me to collect him. All the visa shit that went down earlier was a result of learning that I could not leave the country to pick him up. If he hadn't been coming in, they wouldn't even have gone that far.
Anyway, I discussed this with him, and we agreed that he would be collected by a Polish chap at the airport and driven to the border. He then walks across and I wait on the other side in the car. We have a driver, so I could sit and chat on the way back to the city.
Yesterday, an emissary was sent from the office to dissuade me from going. Initial gambit was that is was too late and I'd be tired, so no need. We had arranged to set off at 9pm, so would return about 1.30. Not too late.
When I said it was no problem, I was then told that I couldn't go as my passport is not with me (at the lawyers). Smelling a rat by now, I explained that I was not crossing the border, nor was I driving. Surely I don't need such a document to be a passenger in a car? I would take the risk, as I really wanted to go see him.
Then the muppet from the office just said, 'We propose to CANCEL your going to meet him. So we will do that." I then insisted on the reason for this, saying that I had personally arranged this with the boss, and why was this such a problem? He went pale, and asked me why I insisted on going. When I replied "because I do, what the fuck is your problem with that", he rushed off and there was a lot of consternation in the building.
So we went to dinner. A very nice dinner on the outskirts of town. She was good fun and I realise how much I will miss her. It is a shame that it will never be; we've wasted a great opportunity.
The intermediary phoned to say my driver would be at the building in 30 minutes. We had arranged to go at 9.00pm, so after finishing dinner I walked back to the office, arriving at 9.00pm. No driver. No car. On the phone to find out where he was - nobody knew. Eventually I discovered that his phone battery was flat, and he didn't answer the phone until he was 50 miles out of town, heading for the border.
I told them to turn the fucker back. He returned to collect me, taking me to a different collection point then the boss and I had arranged. He did get a few calls on his 'flat' mobile en route, so the meeting point was legitimate. On the way back I explained how they had so deliberately tried to stop me from going to collect him, and in general always tried to block me whenever I wanted to use the car. He was not impressed.
Upshot is, I'm out of here. South of France for me. And I'm taking the fucking car.
Tuesday 18 October 2011
Fight, run, hide
My passport has gone for some form of service. Last rites as far as I'm concerned. It is due to run out soon anyway, so will have to consider a new one.
Have decided, after good advice, that I am not going to make any money here. The building staff are determined to undermine anything I try to do, ignore any of my instructions, and generally take any opportunity to prove to the owner that I am not necessary here. Fuck them. I am not having my club's Sunday lunch guest list torn up and replaced by the housekeeper's choices. I've not even got the fight in me any more. Get me to a beach, and some decent food.
So over the next few weeks will try to find my next situation, somewhere. UK is the very last option, but may be necessary to re-collect my thoughts, and arrange the cash for the next adventure. Has been a good Summer though. No hard feelings - after all, it's not me that is losing. Sayonara baby.
Have decided, after good advice, that I am not going to make any money here. The building staff are determined to undermine anything I try to do, ignore any of my instructions, and generally take any opportunity to prove to the owner that I am not necessary here. Fuck them. I am not having my club's Sunday lunch guest list torn up and replaced by the housekeeper's choices. I've not even got the fight in me any more. Get me to a beach, and some decent food.
So over the next few weeks will try to find my next situation, somewhere. UK is the very last option, but may be necessary to re-collect my thoughts, and arrange the cash for the next adventure. Has been a good Summer though. No hard feelings - after all, it's not me that is losing. Sayonara baby.
Monday 17 October 2011
I predict a riot
Music can hit a situation, or is that shit a shituation? Or are we in a hituation.
Have collected and eaten soft-boiled eggs; real comfort food.
Have now been told that things will be sorted out during tomorrow. Comforting for tonight, but will truly believe it if/when I see it. It does make one wonder about personal security and freedom. Here was a situation whereby either I leave now and cannot come back or I stay here and cannot leave.
When I discovered this - this morning (much to everybody's surprise... as I had only been asking for progress with this for 3 months), my immediate response was to accept it as fact, and act. I started planning luggage, computer, phone etc, that would fit into aircraft allowance, so that I could collect the boss at the airport, pass him the keys to drive back across the border, and then jump on a budget carrier out of there to somewhere, sitting it out until they sorted out my legal re-entry. Simple.
Another possibility that came to mind was to rent a place in Poland and arrange a residency permit (Being EU it is simple). I could then sit near the border until the visa is sorted out, and pop in and out of here with no issue. Simple.
She went fucking mental. (Yes, she has reappeared, and been around a lot). After the horror (yes, horror!) of hearing that I was leaving tomorrow and unable to return for an indefinite period, her initial solution was to come and live with me in Poland. Next a 'we could get engaged' possibility, for my convenience - and I genuinely believe that. Then she got on the phone and started moving like you wouldn't believe. She doesn't want me, but obviously doesn't want me gone (!) What is the motivation behind this? I did get rather stressed about the clandestino solution - my being 'stuck' in the country. It's all about dependency: who can you depend on? who should you depend on? who wants you to depend on them? what is the payback?
It looks like in order just to stay here, I have to depend on somebody. Seriously. Already to approach any form of happiness and security I need her so much... now is even deeper dependency coming? Does she encourage this? Why? It is baffling. I really have to depend on somebody and that can only be her. I would not entertain getting engaged or married for convenience, but if it were for the right reasons and I didn't have such uncertainty about her feelings towards me, I certainly would. I can't do this here without her, and feel she can't do it here without me. But she still thinks I am an idiot.
Towards the end of the evening I was starting to feel as if the whole thing had been done on purpose to try and block me... but from what? I envisaging some random situation in the city ending up with me in the stripy hole, awaiting deportation... which could take months. Kick me out... fine! but please don't take 5 years to do it. I was starting to imagine my reaction - a serious survival instinct was starting to kick in; I was already moving to a 'defcon' level where I would consider the brutal removal of blockages to my safe passage. That scared me; naturally we all have incidents when we could react brutally, but this was rising out of such a simple, unnecessary situation. Suddenly I saw a threat to my freedom, and I hadn't done anything 'wrong' just accepted the locals' comments and advice that "We'll sort it out. Don't worry about it. There's plenty of time.". And now my own personal security was at risk as a result of that. I will not say here how dark I was going in my planned response to situations.
Will see how tomorrow goes.
Oh yes! I had a birthday party on Saturday. Shame, I've kind of forgotten about it with all the Monday stress, but on the positive note, here's a picture of some cheese I received:
And it tastes very nice too.
Sitting here now freezing my nuts off, trying to work out how I am being forced to become a clandestino, pretty much in a situation where I cannot leave the country without some form of issue. This is truly an uncomfortable situation and I am not happy with it at all. For one reason more than any: I have other responsibilities in life, which on occasion mean that I may have to leave, even for a short time, at very short notice. Here I can't even give notice to visit the next town without something appearing to impede my movement.
Why? Starting to think that this is on purpose, but by whom? There are several suspects within the building, but I cannot see to what ends. What are they looking to achieve out of my dependency? Money is naturally the first thing, but I do not have money. I am broke here, and those around me know this. OK, I am from a reasonably comfortable family, however in UK terms we are far from wealthy... vieux pauvre, if you like.
So what do you want from me? OK, sort of useful/useless within the actual property, since nobody ever communicates with me, and whatever I try to arrange is immediately foxed. It appears I cannot even arrange a table of guests for dinner without being over-ruled by the housekeeper.
No it seems that since I am at the end of my total time allowed here, if I leave the country I will not be allowed back. After repeated warnings from me to all I work with here.
Have collected and eaten soft-boiled eggs; real comfort food.
Have now been told that things will be sorted out during tomorrow. Comforting for tonight, but will truly believe it if/when I see it. It does make one wonder about personal security and freedom. Here was a situation whereby either I leave now and cannot come back or I stay here and cannot leave.
When I discovered this - this morning (much to everybody's surprise... as I had only been asking for progress with this for 3 months), my immediate response was to accept it as fact, and act. I started planning luggage, computer, phone etc, that would fit into aircraft allowance, so that I could collect the boss at the airport, pass him the keys to drive back across the border, and then jump on a budget carrier out of there to somewhere, sitting it out until they sorted out my legal re-entry. Simple.
Another possibility that came to mind was to rent a place in Poland and arrange a residency permit (Being EU it is simple). I could then sit near the border until the visa is sorted out, and pop in and out of here with no issue. Simple.
She went fucking mental. (Yes, she has reappeared, and been around a lot). After the horror (yes, horror!) of hearing that I was leaving tomorrow and unable to return for an indefinite period, her initial solution was to come and live with me in Poland. Next a 'we could get engaged' possibility, for my convenience - and I genuinely believe that. Then she got on the phone and started moving like you wouldn't believe. She doesn't want me, but obviously doesn't want me gone (!) What is the motivation behind this? I did get rather stressed about the clandestino solution - my being 'stuck' in the country. It's all about dependency: who can you depend on? who should you depend on? who wants you to depend on them? what is the payback?
It looks like in order just to stay here, I have to depend on somebody. Seriously. Already to approach any form of happiness and security I need her so much... now is even deeper dependency coming? Does she encourage this? Why? It is baffling. I really have to depend on somebody and that can only be her. I would not entertain getting engaged or married for convenience, but if it were for the right reasons and I didn't have such uncertainty about her feelings towards me, I certainly would. I can't do this here without her, and feel she can't do it here without me. But she still thinks I am an idiot.
Towards the end of the evening I was starting to feel as if the whole thing had been done on purpose to try and block me... but from what? I envisaging some random situation in the city ending up with me in the stripy hole, awaiting deportation... which could take months. Kick me out... fine! but please don't take 5 years to do it. I was starting to imagine my reaction - a serious survival instinct was starting to kick in; I was already moving to a 'defcon' level where I would consider the brutal removal of blockages to my safe passage. That scared me; naturally we all have incidents when we could react brutally, but this was rising out of such a simple, unnecessary situation. Suddenly I saw a threat to my freedom, and I hadn't done anything 'wrong' just accepted the locals' comments and advice that "We'll sort it out. Don't worry about it. There's plenty of time.". And now my own personal security was at risk as a result of that. I will not say here how dark I was going in my planned response to situations.
Will see how tomorrow goes.
Oh yes! I had a birthday party on Saturday. Shame, I've kind of forgotten about it with all the Monday stress, but on the positive note, here's a picture of some cheese I received:
And it tastes very nice too.
Thursday 13 October 2011
Birthday week
Weekend was pleasant, but this week has been uninspiring. Having a birthday party this Saturday, but don't really want to. No reason, I'm just not in the mood. Other people seem to want it, so I said 'OK'.
She's definitely not so close now. Gave her a lift home Sunday evening, after a lovely weekend, but still seemed more distant in communication. Her parents were preparing to go away, and she's house and Grandmother sitting, so must spend a lot of time at the house. Therefore I don't expect to see her so much, but...
Surprisingly, over weekend, she did say that as she would be stuck at her parents', I would be able to go there some evenings, drink and stay. I thought that would be nice. Monday heard nothing, Tuesday nothing, so called her in the evening. She has been busy, helping her family arrange their vacation. I asked her to call me Wednesday (my birthday), and she was offended that I felt the need to ask. I only wanted to speak with her. She called Wednesday morning, but it was only lip-service, as if: "Right. Done that. Next task." Her parents were travelling that day so I didn't expect to see her unless she was free in the evening. Didn't hear from her, so went out for dinner alone - there was no-one else I wanted to see. Watching a movie back home afterwards and she called, but only for 2 minutes.
She called me this afternoon, telling me that the stalker had phoned her on some pretext, then invited her for coffee. About 10 minutes earlier I had had a text from the stalker, asking me to go into town and said I was busy. She must have suspected we were together, so tried to check this. We were both pissed off about this - and I explained that I have not had communication with her since the party 2 weeks ago, except for the text message response. She really pisses me off now.
Anyway, back to the important one. I see her on Skype a lot, but we are still rarely communicating. Today in conversation she did say that she prefers to communicate face-to-face, as do I, so perhaps she only calls long-distance people. I do think though she may be waiting for a call from Italy - probably one of these wealthy suitors I fear so much. She is certainly not so talkative about her activities at the moment. It may be a passing phase, but it makes it more difficult for me to speak with her as I worry so much. My brain is truly fucked! A couple of times I've messaged her on Skype, but had no response. this is such a change from a few weeks ago when we would communicate so much. She is definitely planning on a proper move to Italy in 6 weeks or so, and I am certain that this will end our communication. Maybe she's weaning me off her - trying to let me down gently? Whatever it is, it is a shame. I do not want to bombard her with phone calls, snoop or do any of the things that the stalker did to piss me off so much.
After a lot of thought, I have decided to write to her. A 'letter of resignation', if you like. The idea is at least to explain my feelings honestly and frankly before she leaves for good. This may yet drive her even further away, but I cannot stand by and witness her retreat into the distance without at least saying something. How could I if she really means so much? Will edit it over a few days, and then decide the delivery method and time. I want her to keep it, so an e-mail would be too impersonal. Printed letter or written by hand? I think the latter - or is that too theatrical?
I doubt she'll come to my party - the stalker will certainly be there - and she's not that interested in a lot of the people going. Neither am I to be honest, but it is a social obligation. We did discuss her stopping in my apartment during the party, so I could pop up and visit, and some of her friends could be there. I would like that. If she decides against that, I will close the apartment and have no visitors. I am not having the stalker finding any excuse to come to my apartment, and I am certain she will try. If I am alone here, I will refuse all visitors and retire upstairs alone when I've had enough of the party.
Mood today is sad and I feel hopeless. All I can do is wait, as I may yet be reading too much into her actions. I know she's busy tending to her Grandmother, but also feel that that is not it. I sense she has seen her future back abroad with a different set of people, and there is no space for me in that. Will see how she communicates between now and her friends visiting. I think I will leave the letter until after they have gone as well; I don't want to put her off-kilter in any way.
She's definitely not so close now. Gave her a lift home Sunday evening, after a lovely weekend, but still seemed more distant in communication. Her parents were preparing to go away, and she's house and Grandmother sitting, so must spend a lot of time at the house. Therefore I don't expect to see her so much, but...
Surprisingly, over weekend, she did say that as she would be stuck at her parents', I would be able to go there some evenings, drink and stay. I thought that would be nice. Monday heard nothing, Tuesday nothing, so called her in the evening. She has been busy, helping her family arrange their vacation. I asked her to call me Wednesday (my birthday), and she was offended that I felt the need to ask. I only wanted to speak with her. She called Wednesday morning, but it was only lip-service, as if: "Right. Done that. Next task." Her parents were travelling that day so I didn't expect to see her unless she was free in the evening. Didn't hear from her, so went out for dinner alone - there was no-one else I wanted to see. Watching a movie back home afterwards and she called, but only for 2 minutes.
She called me this afternoon, telling me that the stalker had phoned her on some pretext, then invited her for coffee. About 10 minutes earlier I had had a text from the stalker, asking me to go into town and said I was busy. She must have suspected we were together, so tried to check this. We were both pissed off about this - and I explained that I have not had communication with her since the party 2 weeks ago, except for the text message response. She really pisses me off now.
Anyway, back to the important one. I see her on Skype a lot, but we are still rarely communicating. Today in conversation she did say that she prefers to communicate face-to-face, as do I, so perhaps she only calls long-distance people. I do think though she may be waiting for a call from Italy - probably one of these wealthy suitors I fear so much. She is certainly not so talkative about her activities at the moment. It may be a passing phase, but it makes it more difficult for me to speak with her as I worry so much. My brain is truly fucked! A couple of times I've messaged her on Skype, but had no response. this is such a change from a few weeks ago when we would communicate so much. She is definitely planning on a proper move to Italy in 6 weeks or so, and I am certain that this will end our communication. Maybe she's weaning me off her - trying to let me down gently? Whatever it is, it is a shame. I do not want to bombard her with phone calls, snoop or do any of the things that the stalker did to piss me off so much.
After a lot of thought, I have decided to write to her. A 'letter of resignation', if you like. The idea is at least to explain my feelings honestly and frankly before she leaves for good. This may yet drive her even further away, but I cannot stand by and witness her retreat into the distance without at least saying something. How could I if she really means so much? Will edit it over a few days, and then decide the delivery method and time. I want her to keep it, so an e-mail would be too impersonal. Printed letter or written by hand? I think the latter - or is that too theatrical?
I doubt she'll come to my party - the stalker will certainly be there - and she's not that interested in a lot of the people going. Neither am I to be honest, but it is a social obligation. We did discuss her stopping in my apartment during the party, so I could pop up and visit, and some of her friends could be there. I would like that. If she decides against that, I will close the apartment and have no visitors. I am not having the stalker finding any excuse to come to my apartment, and I am certain she will try. If I am alone here, I will refuse all visitors and retire upstairs alone when I've had enough of the party.
Mood today is sad and I feel hopeless. All I can do is wait, as I may yet be reading too much into her actions. I know she's busy tending to her Grandmother, but also feel that that is not it. I sense she has seen her future back abroad with a different set of people, and there is no space for me in that. Will see how she communicates between now and her friends visiting. I think I will leave the letter until after they have gone as well; I don't want to put her off-kilter in any way.
Saturday 8 October 2011
Weekend upon us
Well, she's back. Much happier. She had phoned a third time after I blogged, arranging her return, and said 'love you' in ending the call. Today, I visited our farm to finalise the termination of our farm manager. Strange cracking underfoot turned out to be between 2 and 3 shitloads (yes, that IS a valid quantity) of walnuts. Filled my pockets.
Had promised to pick her up on the outskirts of town - she had heavy luggage. Time at the farm overran, and I eventually had to tell my driver to go straight to collect her. Still late. I intended on dropping him off in the city centre as I didn't want him to drive me, preferring to drive myself. My social life is mine - not part of work. However, he knows the city better than I, so it would have taken me far longer to get to her. Anyway, he was most apologetic to her, saying it wasn't my fault etc. She was very pleased to see me, but very tired and I took her straight home.
We prepared for her mother in the car: the last time I visited, her mother had me pinioned in the hallway, telling me I had to marry her daughter. She was most embarrassed about it, and I've not been allowed back since. At the time I pretended I didn't understand her mother's English, to try and minimise her discomfort, and never referred to it. Tonight, her oblique referral was the first mention.
Sitting in the back of the car she was so animated, constantly chatting, often touching my leg and worrying about my health. She thought I looked ill (I don't), and threatened to take me to the doctors... am I eating enough... etc etc. At the apartment, my driver waited while we took the luggage inside. Just before the lift arrived, she stared straight at me, let out a really raucous, joyful laugh, then grabbed my face with both hands kissing me quick and hard on the lips. It was an honest moment, and actually very intense communication.
She said she'll only stay for a month though - wants to go back to Italy. Shame, but I understand. She asked me if I'd had any female entertainment, and I truthfully told her 'no', 'not interested'. She knows I was being honest - she knows. I never asked her, but she implied that it was the same case for her. She has some friends visiting from Italy in a couple of weeks, and keenly asked me to stick around - she really wants me to meet them... or them to meet me. That is interesting, as they are from the 'glamorous' part of her life that I am not part of. All I hear is anecdotal stories, and I never ask to know anything. That is hers, and no business of mine. Now it looks like she might want to make me a part of it. That certainly suggests a degree of fixture in her life/future, since if you have another, far-flung life, would you bring somebody from back home into it, unless you envisaged them being a larger part of your whole life? Her friends will then know me, and no doubt discuss me with her (or have they already?) - then there's no escape. Once you have mutual disparate friends on Facebook or suchlike, you're tied together in so many ways.
Tomorrow she has decided we are going for a picnic, somewhere nice she knows. She will call me when she wakes up, and I'll go collect her. We might be meeting another of her female friends. That is lovely - she genuinely wants to spend time with me, and bring me into her wider circle.
Then I went home, to do some work, sitting on the sofa. I put Skype on-line as it can provide natural breaks from work, and she appeared on-line within a minute. I didn't call her - I was working, and don't want to appear always in her face - after all we'd only parted 30 minutes earlier. She called me. No reason, just talking for a few minutes before she went to bed. During today she has said 'love you' several times. And held, kissed and hugged me a lot. Will see how this month goes - and what will happen if she does move to Italy. I hope she doesn't... but that is merely me being selfish.
Had promised to pick her up on the outskirts of town - she had heavy luggage. Time at the farm overran, and I eventually had to tell my driver to go straight to collect her. Still late. I intended on dropping him off in the city centre as I didn't want him to drive me, preferring to drive myself. My social life is mine - not part of work. However, he knows the city better than I, so it would have taken me far longer to get to her. Anyway, he was most apologetic to her, saying it wasn't my fault etc. She was very pleased to see me, but very tired and I took her straight home.
We prepared for her mother in the car: the last time I visited, her mother had me pinioned in the hallway, telling me I had to marry her daughter. She was most embarrassed about it, and I've not been allowed back since. At the time I pretended I didn't understand her mother's English, to try and minimise her discomfort, and never referred to it. Tonight, her oblique referral was the first mention.
Sitting in the back of the car she was so animated, constantly chatting, often touching my leg and worrying about my health. She thought I looked ill (I don't), and threatened to take me to the doctors... am I eating enough... etc etc. At the apartment, my driver waited while we took the luggage inside. Just before the lift arrived, she stared straight at me, let out a really raucous, joyful laugh, then grabbed my face with both hands kissing me quick and hard on the lips. It was an honest moment, and actually very intense communication.
She said she'll only stay for a month though - wants to go back to Italy. Shame, but I understand. She asked me if I'd had any female entertainment, and I truthfully told her 'no', 'not interested'. She knows I was being honest - she knows. I never asked her, but she implied that it was the same case for her. She has some friends visiting from Italy in a couple of weeks, and keenly asked me to stick around - she really wants me to meet them... or them to meet me. That is interesting, as they are from the 'glamorous' part of her life that I am not part of. All I hear is anecdotal stories, and I never ask to know anything. That is hers, and no business of mine. Now it looks like she might want to make me a part of it. That certainly suggests a degree of fixture in her life/future, since if you have another, far-flung life, would you bring somebody from back home into it, unless you envisaged them being a larger part of your whole life? Her friends will then know me, and no doubt discuss me with her (or have they already?) - then there's no escape. Once you have mutual disparate friends on Facebook or suchlike, you're tied together in so many ways.
Tomorrow she has decided we are going for a picnic, somewhere nice she knows. She will call me when she wakes up, and I'll go collect her. We might be meeting another of her female friends. That is lovely - she genuinely wants to spend time with me, and bring me into her wider circle.
Then I went home, to do some work, sitting on the sofa. I put Skype on-line as it can provide natural breaks from work, and she appeared on-line within a minute. I didn't call her - I was working, and don't want to appear always in her face - after all we'd only parted 30 minutes earlier. She called me. No reason, just talking for a few minutes before she went to bed. During today she has said 'love you' several times. And held, kissed and hugged me a lot. Will see how this month goes - and what will happen if she does move to Italy. I hope she doesn't... but that is merely me being selfish.
Tuesday 4 October 2011
Back on Topic
She phoned yesterday. Twice. First one she seemed a little distant, but the second one she was very chatty. She did apologise for not being in touch, but I really didn't mind; so long as she is OK I am happy. She said she's back at weekend - it will be good to see her. I still think that she's not mine. I know she missed me - her saying it was quite heartfelt - but don't think it struck her until after her first call. Better put a pic up, so we get an idea of how she looks:
A Gianfranco Ferre catwalk show in Milan. So now you know what all the fuss is about. What on earth is this girl doing in my life? Of course I get insecure - I'm neither good-looking nor wealthy. What is she doing with me? Am I just a stop-gap to entertain until some suave, handsome yacht owner turns up? This is why falling in love with her has shaken and scared me so much. Now I am completely under the spell of a girl who can so obviously do so much better. And it will devastate me when she does. She controls our relationship and I have never felt so vulnerable in my life.
A Gianfranco Ferre catwalk show in Milan. So now you know what all the fuss is about. What on earth is this girl doing in my life? Of course I get insecure - I'm neither good-looking nor wealthy. What is she doing with me? Am I just a stop-gap to entertain until some suave, handsome yacht owner turns up? This is why falling in love with her has shaken and scared me so much. Now I am completely under the spell of a girl who can so obviously do so much better. And it will devastate me when she does. She controls our relationship and I have never felt so vulnerable in my life.
Monday 3 October 2011
The Chicken Cannon Incident
OK so here goes. Friends have often said that my life has been so full of odd incidents and amusing anecdotes that I really ought to write them down. Otherwise they only come to mind when in context of another discussion, so can be forgotten until a conversation goes that way. Chicken cannons rarely come up in conversation, so had better get this one down now.
When travelling a few years back, people whom you met always hit you with the same stock questions. One of them was 'what do you do for a living?'. It helps them to judge you, pigeonhole you, if you like. It became tedious.
Travelling on a boat, to an island called Koh Chang, I resolved one day to convince the next person who asked me that question that I dealt in Chicken Cannons for a living. I told my travelling friend, but he was more interested in watching the island approach.
When we found our ideal beach, he introduced me to a few of his friends and as the evening drew on, we found ourselves sitting on cushions in front of a beach bar, drinking a concoction prepared in an ice-bucket - 'One Set'.
There was an irritating Canadian girl, 'Nagelbaum' was her name, who joined us. She was with a curly-haired, uninteresting, dumb bloke. Australian. As soon as she joined our mat, she wanted to know what we all did.
The divers dived. Steve (my friend) was a surveyor. I refused to tell her, saying that I didn't want to talk about it. She pressed a little and I said it was a little embarrassing, and she would only take the piss. I was here on holiday and didn't want to be justifying my career in front of a load of strangers on the beach. Subject changed (by me) and she was duly intrigued.
Only Steve knew what I was up to, and I caught a knowing glance as I went into this. He said nothing and the conversation drifted on. Next subject was 'where are you heading next?' and 'how long are you travelling?'. I was non-committal on both, saying that I may go anywhere, and was expecting to be travelling for at least 6 more months (having been travelling for 3 at the time).
"But what about your job?"
"Oh, that's all right, it doesn't really matter how long I go. I might have to nip back to work for a week or so, but that's it."
More intrigue... what type of work did I do that allowed me so much time so far from work?
"OK," I fessed up "I'm a saleman, but I only sell big items, so only shift 1 or 2 per year."
She said that being a salesman was not embarrassing, so why such reticence? Again I said I'd really rather not talk about it, in fact it was already becoming an issue, and I did not want everybody on the beach taking the piss, and why was all the attention on me, IF YOU DON'T MIND.
Hooked: "what do you sell?"
"I am NOT telling you."
"Why not?" etc etc
Steve was rolling his eyes, and the rest of his mates (uninformed) were now becoming curious. Eventually I agreed to tell her, on condition that she did not take the piss. She readily agreed.
"I deal in a ballistic product. A type of cannon. That fires chickens."
Hysterical laughter. I became really offended and shouted at her "You see! That's why I don't want to fucking talk about it!"
"What is the point of that?"
"Well it saved your life."
"How?"
"How did you get here?"
"By boat."
"Not to the island you berk, to the country."
"I flew."
"Precisely."
Then the spiel really started. I had a good friend called Ed Prelock in LA. He was a Director of Disney (Walt nicknamed him 'Mouse' and staff called him 'Mr Mouse'), a lovely man and deserved a part in this blag.
I said that I worked for a company called Maus Prelock, Mauser being a German weapons manufacturer bought out by American Prelock Engineering after the war to create Maus Prelock Ballistics.
We manufactured a cannon which fired chickens at jet aircraft engines to test them for safety. After all, you cannot fly a plane into a mountain as one crash-tests a car (and the result would be pretty fucking obvious), nor can you fly around looking for a large bird to fly into. Leave the plane on the ground and fire birds at it to test its strength. Bird strikes are very common on runways, and geese fly very high. A chicken was therefore designated as the standard unit to test aircraft fuselage and engines, fired at a speed to simulate real flying situations. Chickens are the same constituency blood, bones, flesh and similar in size and weight to a high flying bird - why send money creating a dummy? They are also easily available and cheap to buy from any supermarket, farm, butcher etc around the world. Standard.
The chicken is loaded into a wooden case or 'sabot' to ensure a perfectly circular seal. Chickens are not all the same shape, so it enables uniform pressure. The canon is charged with propellant gas (same as hairspray), the higher the pressure, the higher the muzzle velocity. On leaving the barrel, the sabot springs apart, and the chicken continues. Think of 500mph cruising speed + 35mph goose flying gives an impact velocity of 535mph. Load it to 600mph and you can test a jetliner. Different aircraft have different cruising speeds, so use more or less propellant pressure accordingly. By the way a sabot was a French wooden clog, work by mill workers. When dissatisfied, they were known to throw them into the workings of the machinery and bring the mill to a halt. Hence the word 'Sabot-age'.
By now all the people sitting around on the mat were completely enthralled. Steve, to his credit kept very quiet and stared out towards the sea, only agreeing when asked by one of his friends if this were true. The technical explanation did seal the deal though, as it was delivered very matter-of-factly, by a person who really did not want to talk about it.
Phrases such as 'it may sound ridiculous, but somebody has to do it' and 'that's the thing with you people, you don't think about shit like this when sitting in an aircraft, but do when you buy a car' also helped.
"How much to they cost?"
"Quarter of a million. I make 10% commission, so only need to sell 1 or 2 a year. Usually through an airshow, but there's maintenance contracts, and recalibrating when a new aircraft is developed" etc etc bullshit bullshit.
Nagelbaum loved it. She tried to keep a straight face, but truly could not believe what she had stumbled upon, giggling until I would shoot her a tired look, and occasionally collapsing into fits of hysteria until I would get offended and she would apologise. Again and again.
One of the divers, a sharp, retired New York broker called Douggie (who became one of my closest friends), went to the toilet. he'd obviously had a think about it, as when he returned he leaned forward an hissed the words 'You bitch!' out of the corner of his mouth. I smirked and winked at him. He was now in on the deal, and as he could corral the rest of the dive team, I decided to raise the ante with his tacit approval. Douggie had heard of this job, just never met anyone who did it etc etc. Now I was legitimately firing chickens out of cannons. It was the first time he'd met me, and he was loving it.
So I hit them with an amusing work-related anecdote, actively encouraged by Douggie, with the rest of the divers in astonished awe.
In Britain, they produced a high-speed train prototype, good for 150mph. Regular trains did 80 at the time. Trains routinely run over badgers, foxes and dogs. Crows and magpies will them eat the carrion; an approaching train will scare them off. However, with the new trains travelling at 150mph, they might not make it and it would be possible for one to collide with the windshield having flown up to that height as the train approaches. 150mph+35 gives impact velocity of 185mph. Can we test their windshields? Sure we can... we do the Japanese Shinkansen (bullet train) which uses 3 layers of polycarbonate (same as a fighter jet canopy) sandwiched with a clear resin to provide elasticity (you've got to have the background facts to hand).
So we arranged a short-term lease on a machine that we used for demonstrations at air shows, took it down and set it up. Showed them how to turn the pressure down to get a muzzle velocity of 200mph, and said to get standard chickens from Tesco.
After a few days, we received a call. There was a problem and could we come over and take a look. The chicken had devastated the front of the train. Gone straight through the front windshield, destroyed half of the console, smashed the back off the driver's seat, and left a 4-inch dent in the metal rear of the driver's compartment. Had they fired it too fast?
2 engineers went to watch them carry out the experiment again, with the same result. they came back and issued a report, stating that the next time they carried out the experiment, we recommended that they defrosted the chickens before placing them in the cannon.
Complete bullshit - an urban myth I had read somewhere on the internet. But fucking hell, it had them all going. Douggie was crying, and Steve had been completely unaware of this side to the blag. This was 10 years or so ago, so that particular urban myth is too well known to chance again, but it had a good airing.
After Nagelbaum went to bed, I told the rest of the crew that the whole thing was total bollocks. They admitted having been completely taken in by it, so though I say so myself, I had done very well. We didn't tell her though.
She told everybody on the beach, and for the next few days, whenever I saw her, she would shout "Ha ha! Chicken Man!", flap her arms and cluck like a chicken.
And she thought that SHE was taking the piss.
When we lived on the beach, our set beach phrase was 'the devil finds work for idle hands' as we were always looking for some form of mischief to entertain ourselves, often at the gentle expense of 1 or 2 week holidaymakers. There's a lot more where that came from.
By the way, you can google 'chicken gun' - they do exist.
When travelling a few years back, people whom you met always hit you with the same stock questions. One of them was 'what do you do for a living?'. It helps them to judge you, pigeonhole you, if you like. It became tedious.
Travelling on a boat, to an island called Koh Chang, I resolved one day to convince the next person who asked me that question that I dealt in Chicken Cannons for a living. I told my travelling friend, but he was more interested in watching the island approach.
When we found our ideal beach, he introduced me to a few of his friends and as the evening drew on, we found ourselves sitting on cushions in front of a beach bar, drinking a concoction prepared in an ice-bucket - 'One Set'.
There was an irritating Canadian girl, 'Nagelbaum' was her name, who joined us. She was with a curly-haired, uninteresting, dumb bloke. Australian. As soon as she joined our mat, she wanted to know what we all did.
The divers dived. Steve (my friend) was a surveyor. I refused to tell her, saying that I didn't want to talk about it. She pressed a little and I said it was a little embarrassing, and she would only take the piss. I was here on holiday and didn't want to be justifying my career in front of a load of strangers on the beach. Subject changed (by me) and she was duly intrigued.
Only Steve knew what I was up to, and I caught a knowing glance as I went into this. He said nothing and the conversation drifted on. Next subject was 'where are you heading next?' and 'how long are you travelling?'. I was non-committal on both, saying that I may go anywhere, and was expecting to be travelling for at least 6 more months (having been travelling for 3 at the time).
"But what about your job?"
"Oh, that's all right, it doesn't really matter how long I go. I might have to nip back to work for a week or so, but that's it."
More intrigue... what type of work did I do that allowed me so much time so far from work?
"OK," I fessed up "I'm a saleman, but I only sell big items, so only shift 1 or 2 per year."
She said that being a salesman was not embarrassing, so why such reticence? Again I said I'd really rather not talk about it, in fact it was already becoming an issue, and I did not want everybody on the beach taking the piss, and why was all the attention on me, IF YOU DON'T MIND.
Hooked: "what do you sell?"
"I am NOT telling you."
"Why not?" etc etc
Steve was rolling his eyes, and the rest of his mates (uninformed) were now becoming curious. Eventually I agreed to tell her, on condition that she did not take the piss. She readily agreed.
"I deal in a ballistic product. A type of cannon. That fires chickens."
Hysterical laughter. I became really offended and shouted at her "You see! That's why I don't want to fucking talk about it!"
"What is the point of that?"
"Well it saved your life."
"How?"
"How did you get here?"
"By boat."
"Not to the island you berk, to the country."
"I flew."
"Precisely."
Then the spiel really started. I had a good friend called Ed Prelock in LA. He was a Director of Disney (Walt nicknamed him 'Mouse' and staff called him 'Mr Mouse'), a lovely man and deserved a part in this blag.
I said that I worked for a company called Maus Prelock, Mauser being a German weapons manufacturer bought out by American Prelock Engineering after the war to create Maus Prelock Ballistics.
We manufactured a cannon which fired chickens at jet aircraft engines to test them for safety. After all, you cannot fly a plane into a mountain as one crash-tests a car (and the result would be pretty fucking obvious), nor can you fly around looking for a large bird to fly into. Leave the plane on the ground and fire birds at it to test its strength. Bird strikes are very common on runways, and geese fly very high. A chicken was therefore designated as the standard unit to test aircraft fuselage and engines, fired at a speed to simulate real flying situations. Chickens are the same constituency blood, bones, flesh and similar in size and weight to a high flying bird - why send money creating a dummy? They are also easily available and cheap to buy from any supermarket, farm, butcher etc around the world. Standard.
The chicken is loaded into a wooden case or 'sabot' to ensure a perfectly circular seal. Chickens are not all the same shape, so it enables uniform pressure. The canon is charged with propellant gas (same as hairspray), the higher the pressure, the higher the muzzle velocity. On leaving the barrel, the sabot springs apart, and the chicken continues. Think of 500mph cruising speed + 35mph goose flying gives an impact velocity of 535mph. Load it to 600mph and you can test a jetliner. Different aircraft have different cruising speeds, so use more or less propellant pressure accordingly. By the way a sabot was a French wooden clog, work by mill workers. When dissatisfied, they were known to throw them into the workings of the machinery and bring the mill to a halt. Hence the word 'Sabot-age'.
By now all the people sitting around on the mat were completely enthralled. Steve, to his credit kept very quiet and stared out towards the sea, only agreeing when asked by one of his friends if this were true. The technical explanation did seal the deal though, as it was delivered very matter-of-factly, by a person who really did not want to talk about it.
Phrases such as 'it may sound ridiculous, but somebody has to do it' and 'that's the thing with you people, you don't think about shit like this when sitting in an aircraft, but do when you buy a car' also helped.
"How much to they cost?"
"Quarter of a million. I make 10% commission, so only need to sell 1 or 2 a year. Usually through an airshow, but there's maintenance contracts, and recalibrating when a new aircraft is developed" etc etc bullshit bullshit.
Nagelbaum loved it. She tried to keep a straight face, but truly could not believe what she had stumbled upon, giggling until I would shoot her a tired look, and occasionally collapsing into fits of hysteria until I would get offended and she would apologise. Again and again.
One of the divers, a sharp, retired New York broker called Douggie (who became one of my closest friends), went to the toilet. he'd obviously had a think about it, as when he returned he leaned forward an hissed the words 'You bitch!' out of the corner of his mouth. I smirked and winked at him. He was now in on the deal, and as he could corral the rest of the dive team, I decided to raise the ante with his tacit approval. Douggie had heard of this job, just never met anyone who did it etc etc. Now I was legitimately firing chickens out of cannons. It was the first time he'd met me, and he was loving it.
So I hit them with an amusing work-related anecdote, actively encouraged by Douggie, with the rest of the divers in astonished awe.
In Britain, they produced a high-speed train prototype, good for 150mph. Regular trains did 80 at the time. Trains routinely run over badgers, foxes and dogs. Crows and magpies will them eat the carrion; an approaching train will scare them off. However, with the new trains travelling at 150mph, they might not make it and it would be possible for one to collide with the windshield having flown up to that height as the train approaches. 150mph+35 gives impact velocity of 185mph. Can we test their windshields? Sure we can... we do the Japanese Shinkansen (bullet train) which uses 3 layers of polycarbonate (same as a fighter jet canopy) sandwiched with a clear resin to provide elasticity (you've got to have the background facts to hand).
So we arranged a short-term lease on a machine that we used for demonstrations at air shows, took it down and set it up. Showed them how to turn the pressure down to get a muzzle velocity of 200mph, and said to get standard chickens from Tesco.
After a few days, we received a call. There was a problem and could we come over and take a look. The chicken had devastated the front of the train. Gone straight through the front windshield, destroyed half of the console, smashed the back off the driver's seat, and left a 4-inch dent in the metal rear of the driver's compartment. Had they fired it too fast?
2 engineers went to watch them carry out the experiment again, with the same result. they came back and issued a report, stating that the next time they carried out the experiment, we recommended that they defrosted the chickens before placing them in the cannon.
Complete bullshit - an urban myth I had read somewhere on the internet. But fucking hell, it had them all going. Douggie was crying, and Steve had been completely unaware of this side to the blag. This was 10 years or so ago, so that particular urban myth is too well known to chance again, but it had a good airing.
After Nagelbaum went to bed, I told the rest of the crew that the whole thing was total bollocks. They admitted having been completely taken in by it, so though I say so myself, I had done very well. We didn't tell her though.
She told everybody on the beach, and for the next few days, whenever I saw her, she would shout "Ha ha! Chicken Man!", flap her arms and cluck like a chicken.
And she thought that SHE was taking the piss.
When we lived on the beach, our set beach phrase was 'the devil finds work for idle hands' as we were always looking for some form of mischief to entertain ourselves, often at the gentle expense of 1 or 2 week holidaymakers. There's a lot more where that came from.
By the way, you can google 'chicken gun' - they do exist.
Saturday 1 October 2011
Low point
Now I'm sure I've lost her. Been over a week and not a word. I've e-mailed her 3 times and no response. Have seen a little activity from her friends on Facebook, but no response even to them since Sunday, and nothing to me since Thursday. I truly feel she has found something better to do; the demons have really started nagging me. I assume she's OK, as her old friends are in obvious communication, and they are also in the same city. However, as I have not even heard a simple 'hello, I'm OK' response, I can only assume she is less than seriously interested. It's an absolute heartbreaker.
The thing is, I never came here to look for a girl. I came here to try and make a bit of a life, and some business to set me up for my next chapter. It's ironic that now I have lived in 2 places renowned for Westerners going to look for girls, with that being the furthest thing from my mind on both occasions. When I lived in Bangkok, I had to endue the standard 'knowing looks', but I was honestly not there for the women. I miss the food, my friends and the beaches - that was what made life there so great.
Then I came to Ukraine. Again, not looking for women, but told repeatedly that it was why males of my age/nationality often went there. I never expected to meet a girl I would care so much about, never expected to fall in love. And shit I did it. With possibly the only girl in the city who does not really want to make something with me. Believe you me, I've deflected enough advances from girls in their 20's; then I get so into a girl in her mid-30's and it hurts. Shit I've lost her. Shit shit shit.
Cannot keep e-mailing her - I don't want to appear to be some form of sad stalker who mails her every day - obsessively, but I do think of her all the time. She texted me when she arrived, but from an Italian number. I responded immediately to say 'thanks', but don't know for sure it was her own number, and she'd not borrowed somebody else's phone, so don't want to send another message on that number unless it is confirmed that it's hers. She has my mobile anyway.
I don't want to ask her friends how she is either. I don't know them, and don't want to do anything 'weird' or stalker-ish to her. If I had had some form of introduction, perhaps it would be OK, but I really don't want to cramp her style or embarrass her. So there I am, stuck on the sidelines, missing the game, but getting odd snatches and trying to work it out from those. I really think that I've lost her now, and I love her so much it hurts. What will I do without her? She filled my life and reason here, and the hole is so big as to be impossible to fill for a long time.
She did originally say that she had to come back in October to take care of home stuff whilst her parents went on holiday, and I recall the date for them to leave being around my birthday. That is in a week and a half. Will she really be back by then? What do I plan for my birthday? All I really want to do is go out for dinner with her, then come back to the apartment and spend the night with her. Anything else would be hollow, and in my current frame of mind, a sad night. Can I plan an evening? Silly sad fuck I am.
For God's sake, I'm 43. Most of my friends are in settled, content, happy relationships, kids, house, security etc. I shouldn't be feeling like some insecure lovestruck teenager, fretting about a girl. For years I've pretty much kept women at a distance, not really falling for someone since I was 30 (really hurt then), and now, the first time I do again, it hurts even more. Will I ever learn? Have I the capacity to get over this blow? OK, I always knew I was (as previously stated) punching above my weight), but I tried really hard not to fall for her. I wouldn't have done if SHE had not come around so much, and been so goddamn special. I did not try to lure her, just let her do as she pleased. And I fell hopelessly in love with her.
Now I'm paying the price. I've lost her and it hurts so much. I don't know what more to say.
The thing is, I never came here to look for a girl. I came here to try and make a bit of a life, and some business to set me up for my next chapter. It's ironic that now I have lived in 2 places renowned for Westerners going to look for girls, with that being the furthest thing from my mind on both occasions. When I lived in Bangkok, I had to endue the standard 'knowing looks', but I was honestly not there for the women. I miss the food, my friends and the beaches - that was what made life there so great.
Then I came to Ukraine. Again, not looking for women, but told repeatedly that it was why males of my age/nationality often went there. I never expected to meet a girl I would care so much about, never expected to fall in love. And shit I did it. With possibly the only girl in the city who does not really want to make something with me. Believe you me, I've deflected enough advances from girls in their 20's; then I get so into a girl in her mid-30's and it hurts. Shit I've lost her. Shit shit shit.
Cannot keep e-mailing her - I don't want to appear to be some form of sad stalker who mails her every day - obsessively, but I do think of her all the time. She texted me when she arrived, but from an Italian number. I responded immediately to say 'thanks', but don't know for sure it was her own number, and she'd not borrowed somebody else's phone, so don't want to send another message on that number unless it is confirmed that it's hers. She has my mobile anyway.
I don't want to ask her friends how she is either. I don't know them, and don't want to do anything 'weird' or stalker-ish to her. If I had had some form of introduction, perhaps it would be OK, but I really don't want to cramp her style or embarrass her. So there I am, stuck on the sidelines, missing the game, but getting odd snatches and trying to work it out from those. I really think that I've lost her now, and I love her so much it hurts. What will I do without her? She filled my life and reason here, and the hole is so big as to be impossible to fill for a long time.
She did originally say that she had to come back in October to take care of home stuff whilst her parents went on holiday, and I recall the date for them to leave being around my birthday. That is in a week and a half. Will she really be back by then? What do I plan for my birthday? All I really want to do is go out for dinner with her, then come back to the apartment and spend the night with her. Anything else would be hollow, and in my current frame of mind, a sad night. Can I plan an evening? Silly sad fuck I am.
For God's sake, I'm 43. Most of my friends are in settled, content, happy relationships, kids, house, security etc. I shouldn't be feeling like some insecure lovestruck teenager, fretting about a girl. For years I've pretty much kept women at a distance, not really falling for someone since I was 30 (really hurt then), and now, the first time I do again, it hurts even more. Will I ever learn? Have I the capacity to get over this blow? OK, I always knew I was (as previously stated) punching above my weight), but I tried really hard not to fall for her. I wouldn't have done if SHE had not come around so much, and been so goddamn special. I did not try to lure her, just let her do as she pleased. And I fell hopelessly in love with her.
Now I'm paying the price. I've lost her and it hurts so much. I don't know what more to say.
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