Dear J,

Dear J, I like you so much. I realize there is no future for us though and I fucked up good and proper anyway. You were far too intelligent and you helped me greatly but sometimes I wish you weren't and you didn't  than maybe we could be together...but then I couldn't have liked you so much.
I'd just like to say that I am so sorry for effing up seriously , I am so sorry I can't tell you. I have a big empty space inside me and its been there for two weeks now and it hurts.
I 'd do anything to be with you again , maybe just once, to make it all right. I thought I should write but I guess it's pointless, what happened that happened.
You need to know you were right, so sensitive and right, but I paid a big big price for wanting to use you and I am in a way grateful for making me realize it but I wish ...oh I wish it just happened differently. But than it wouldn't be us. It wasn't me, though, you have to know that wasn't me. Meeting you was one of the best things that had happened to me in a long time and it was good purely for the reason you wanted to see me again and I just didn't see anything from that at all, I didn't realize that and meeting you the second time was just fucked up for this reason. It's very rare to be able to talk to someone the way we talked to eachother on that evening and it's very strange when you can't repeat it because it is just what you thought it to be all about.
I think you're bitter about yourself actually and you shouldn't be. You can't belong but this is how you are and this is how we are. It will change or it won't or maybe you can change it. If you want to. If you think you have to.
I've been listening to alanis and it's because it reminds me of you and I sprayed cK IN2U on my wrist,seriosly silly, and if you were to return to London I will be there and the picture you painted of Chicago, Illinois is with me and you will always be in my heart.

1.4

I was clutching my beer, wide eyed. Choked with astonishment. I lightened up, it was so obvious it must have been amusing. Glad I wasn't there looking at myself from the outside - I was so pleased and expectant again.
Nice walk in the park, few cigarettes and a beer - back to the hotel room, this time intentions clear, or so I thought. But no word was waisted - I didn't want to say anything and he didn't say anything either. We went back to bed. He put his arm on me. But nowhere mischievious - just casually on my blanket. Flicker in the other hand, changing the channel on boredom telly. I mean, what exciting is there on the TV in hotel rooms? Apart from porn, of course, but you'd have to pay for that and he didn't like to pay for anything.I was waiting, and my time to leave was getting nearer.
So I realized if I want to become rotten, I will have to initiate it.
I said, into the sound of drilling from the street and the buzz of the german version of ' I want to be a millionaire': "If you want a warm welcome next week, you will have to say a warm goodbye to me, you know".
Looked at me with astonishment. By than I knew I had it in my hand: "What do you mean?" He knew what I meant.
"If you are so clever I am sure you can work it out."

He kissed me. I was surprised. Not having much experience with stuff such as having sex with different people, I thought it will be just carnage without any kissing. But he quite enthusiastically kissed me and I kissed him back and it was all very pleasant and quite exciting and didn't feel like I am in the wrong at all. Oh, god I wasnt.

1.3

So we did.Walked to the park in the city, people sitting by the lake, lovers on the grass, et cetera.

By then I really was convinced that he was gay. I couldn't believe that he actually spent three hours in bed with me and didn't even give me the choice to refuse him ( which of course I wouldn't have done but I liked to feel I could have done. I could have done. But would not have done.).
By chance , we bumped into his mate, a relief as I had nothing to say, bitter with disappointment. Here I am , ready for adultery and nothing. Unlucky. We had a beer by the lake, mingled with the crowds and had quite a nice time, actually - my moments of liberation. How strange, that an afternoon spent in a city you don't know, with people you don't know, you are out of place and out of water, and looking back you remember every moment, time passing in a lazy steady stream the september sun like golden syrup, the daylight melting away, and you feel like a child again, out of place, out of time, each moment a universe.
Sitting there sipping our beer our friend asked how we 've been spending the afternoon, and he told him that he just spent three hours in bed with me trying to hold himself back from making a move. I choked. BUT WHY?

1.2

Thursday on the course, since he had offered me his room for Friday, I watched every move of his with eager attention. I wanted him so much, physically. I never felt anything like this before, not being a very physical person and of course not having had proper sexual relationships - it was new, wanting only someone's body. That evening, on our usual pub run, we discussed the number of our babies and the possibility of marriage. Things evolved quickly, I should say, and there it was, Friday afternoon, me standing in his room, he was waiting for me - in bed.
I felt awkward, but not unpleasant, had a shower and laid down next to him. Nothing. I waited. Nothing, just the sound of drilling from the street, with us turning between the sheets, always changing our positions in the bed. And he didnt make a move. Nor did I.
We tossed and turned for about three hours, than he suggested a walk in the park.

1.1

So back to the beginning, or, rather, to the end, he willingly agreed to meet me.

I had to be late. I was careful to be early, I thought I cannot risk being late. I just had to meet him. Of course I wasnt sure if he would be there, so I had to get there on time to find a good viewing point of the meeting place to check if he arrived in order to avoid looking like an idiot standing there waiting for someone, who never turns up, or, even worse, for someone who dares to turn up 15-20 minutes late ( I liked to think I wouldnt wait any longer ) and IS well dressed and good looking AND I obviously melt at his sight and its just so obvious what the deal is. So I did manage to get there about 30 seconds early and sneaked past the agreed corner on the other side of the street, but only went a few meters when I looked back and immidiately recognised his silhoutte. I crossed the street, smiling, thinking of the way I must walk, my ex before this ex always used to say I walked like my Mum who, full regards and stuff, but does walk as if she pooed in her trousers. OR is carrying a large barrel between her legs. So we went to a pub and had two beers, the conversation ( him talking about himself, as he always did) went well, I didnt feel anything, in fact, and this was great, I just didnt care anymore what he thinks and thought that I must have been really really desperate to love him at its time.



That night on the course, the night of the dinner, he did turn up in the end. He looked great, I was lost. He was wearing a green jumper and he was wearing his hair differently - without stupid hairgel or whatever it was. He has beautiful hair, thick and blond. He sat at the German girl's table, I watched them with envy ( her, again!) all evening and prtetnded to be friendly and went up to her afterwords cause I heard her talking of an afterdrink.

I never join groups on afterdrinks unless I am especially invited, but this was emergency. We went to an Irish Bar ( how lame, I hate these stuppid theme bars, irish music and gathering place for idiots wearing IRA support T-shirts, I thought )where I tried all my limited means of making him ask me to marry him but failed to do so. This included sitting next to him, striking up a conversation about the gathering of idiots wearing IRA support T-shirts . Actually, thats it. Good chat - up line, innit??

Every evening, drinking. My initial flu disappeared - bear this in mind, alcohol is a disinfective , the amount consumed just killed all the bacteria.Quickly. One night back from our pub to the hotel, the german girl slept with him. Well obviously, as she went to his hotel with him, arm -in - arm. And you could tell the next day. Bastardesse.

Thursday morning I gave it one last go and said in the break of the course ( on my way back from the toilets where I elegantly put last night's drink back into the city's sewage system, exitus through what served as an entrance about 12 hours before ) that friday afternoon I have nowhere to stay. He said I could stay in his room. Quick and easy, it was there, frightening result in my hand, just what I wanted. Was it what I wanted? I was pleased. And a bit scared. Definitely longing for him, full of lust, a feeling long unknown.



What I really want to write about though is our recent randezvous. After two beers he said he had to go which was a bit surprising and annoying. We started walking , right the opposite direction to where I came from . He knew where I had to go, so I just followed, thinking he is at home, probably knows better. We walked into Hyde park , and I still didnt think anything of it, happy as a child for the fact that I am actually inside the park where the 101 dalmathians were walked! The park was beautiful, so dark, if you looked up on the sky you could see the city's lights being reflected on the night's clouds, looking like some surreal whipped cream. I wasnt concentrating on him or what he was saying so I actualy missed the grand opening sentence, to which the continuation was "Thats all down to history, is it?" and only from the tone did I know he was talking about sex. He walked me to the park in order to have sex with me. I was shocked and alarmed. I couldnt say anything apart from a weak "Arghh uhm I guess" which he obviously misheard for " Yes please I cant wait to put your thingey into my mouth " cause he pulled me aside for a very cold kiss. I hate cold kisses. Kiss but than do it properly or don't kiss. It felt strange, unfamiliar, his beautiful, sensual mouth was doing something I remember being much nicer. Judging by the mouth it should've been...I didnt pull away. I never saw him like this, h e always behaved in such an undecisive manner, it was always me initiating the sex (I'll tell you about the first time cause it is funny). When he let me go I just said : " There's no way I am doing this , I am not 16 anymore to have sex in parks I do these things in bed!" Well it didnt help but I started to enjoy this. A lot. I knew I was in charge if only for this time. I didn't pull away when he kissed me ( cold wet kitchen sponge kisses) and I thought " Why the hell not? All I keep saying to myself is that I want to relive my teenage years, here they are then!" And I laughed at him for trying but didnt stop him when he touched me. Kept saying no, but allowed him to lead me up to the top of a little hill, he pushed me to a tree and unbuttoned his trousers.

first

I met him, I met him again. I never thought I would have the courage. Was it courage or was it that he is just not so important anymore so I felt like I could take the refusal? I don't know, but I was proud of myself! I wrote him, one line, very casual and neutral. He replied. To my astonishment, did he not????I felt so strong, so in control. I've never done anything like this before, to write to someone who was once important and stepped out of my life by his own decision ( in fact they all did decide to step out so just to make this clear this means I have never contacted any of my exes before).

I know this is incredibly lame but when he left me I had tried to console myself that he is gay. Than I realized this will not help me as he is the kind who when decides to go and climb Mount Everest will take the largest packet of condoms with him in order to shag every creature whether being female, male or yeti who happens to cross his way. So maybe bisexual, but as I say that didnt help my self justification process. Self justification for being a loser again. I am grateful to him though. No I am not. I am grateful that he came my way or rather that I happened to cross his path.
I met him on a business course a year ago. At that time I was pretty miserable in every sense, I had just started my job three months before and thought it was a total bore as I nurtured dreams of becoming an artist since I was…well, clear in thinking I should say, meaning that since I actually thought about what do I want to become which is maybe when I was six but bearing in mind that I still don’t think clearly most of the time it is a rather vague set of dates. Dreaming of becoming an artist…such a boring thing. Given that I don’t dream about it anymore shows some kind of improvement anyway, doesnt it? I mean, I havent even decided by last year’s October what kind of artist I wanted to become! I missed the required age –line for becoming an actress so I guess painting could have been it, but I didnt mind, really. Anyway, just that I earn some money until I actually buy some paintbrushes or learn to draw properly and of course step ont he path towards international fame in the months following this purchase, I decided I would try this office job, coming up at the same company where my Aunt works ( in quite a high position, I should say. I mean, how on earth did she get there, being mad enough that even a homeless person pointed it out when once we stopped at the red lights, her driving her Volvo, guy knocking ont he window wanting money, her shaking her head, guy not knocking again, her going into a fit inside the nice warm car that ’NO DONTuFukkinunderstand’ but, like, completely losing the little integrity that there is left in her facial expression and this drunken halffrozen guy, not looking too integral himself said ’you’re a nervous breakdown you’ mouthing on the other side of the thick insulating window of the volvo, cars hooting behind u sas int he meantime the light had turned ). Office jobs, aaahhh. I thought I will die. Of the shame. I left my job at the television. My job at the television, good as it may sound, included of doing some minor editing, taking up 1,5 hours of my day every day, paying next to nothing and getting me nowhere at all. I mean, I didnt even get to the editing room whilst I worked there. It was a year. After I quit the job the programme which I worked for was abrubtly cut off from state funding ( as without it it would never have existed, not having any viewers, at least not taxpaying viewers as it was aimed at my national minority living in the surrounding countries) and stopped. Lovely! What is it if not a great sign (of times in my country – the state of politics was particularly heated at the time…will be back to that later.)
So he was just sooo different. That course started off real bad. I didn’t want to go. I took at least six legal books so I could get familiar with what I studied for five plus years than completely abandoned as I decided that I really will become an artist ( but which art shall I choose? I am so talented in all…). At that time my depression and my anxiety had taken over me to such an extent that I could not sit on a plane, so I travelled to Munich on the train. It was horrible, packed and hot and I felt awful all the way along. In fact, too bad, just for not wanting to go. Couldnt sit properly, my back hurted and had a bad headache. I got to the hotel and went to bed only to wake up very soon , drenched in sweat shaking with cold feeling even worse and knowing I had temperature. Took the tablets ( which , surprisingly thoughtful, I had taken with me ) and went off to sleep.
I could hardly get up.I knew it was bad. I wrapped a huge stripey silk scarf aroung my pale, ugly head and went off, knowing my duties. Looking forward to reading my legal books int he afternoon.
Sitting in one of the conference rooms of this impressive building ( will we ever, ever get to this level of civilization, I was wondering ) , even the list of participants didnt excite me. BUt I did notice the only Englishman amongst them. And here he came, the grand - late - entrance into the room, disappointing, thin and small and not very attractive at all I thought, crept in in a black suit and tie ( I mean, the Englishman really have no imagination in office clothing at all. In Italy, even the bus drivers wear great colors that show some kind of interest and dress sense with a difference).
Obviously, we started with the tedious and unimaginative way of joyfully introducing ourselves passing a ball around to each other. Everyone said something totally ordinary, like where do we work and stuff. The German girl stood up, introduced herself and at the end told all of us that if anyone needs help getting aroun the city , she is from Munich. The bitch! Such an easy way of drawing attention to herself, so all would centralize around her. There were two good looking guys there. Both German. Oh no I thought I can’t be so desperate. Anyway I have a men at home, the man who is almost my husband, the men who is my soulmate ( my soul was tortured you know), who I had been going out with ( check this out) seven years and the men who is the father to my daughter. So I guess it is a good thing that we don’t like Germans, I thought, green with envy.
When he stood up to introduce himself, his whole face blew up red. I found that quite charming, really. So he introduced himself. And I started to become interested.
Ball passed on, I stood up. I am so sad really: even that attention I loved, that I stand up in a room full of strangers coming to study , even I had the worst flu I tried to make it a performance and be funny. I guess I was succesful cos they were laughing – I said something cheap like I have my big scarf cause I am feeling sick but don’t worry its not you its the flu. And after the lunchbreak I left – I feeling sooo ill I just thought I need to go home, sparking an interest in my company’s business partners who kept looking for me all through the afternoon whilst I was lying in sweat in my huge double bed.
There was a dinner programme for the group that evening. I obviously felt that I shouldnt go but I just couldnt believe it: I have to spend a week here amongst the most boring people of all and I can’t even use the opportunity of a free drink.So off I went, putting on one of the items of clothing I thought to be appropriate. I already started to regret that I packed with very little care, as I had predicted I was going to spend the most boring week of my life here. And I thought it would be warm.
So I went. And when I got there the first thing I looked out for was whether he is there. And he wasnt. The twat, I thought. Little spoilt twat. It was obvious. The guys (including me, not as if he had paid any attention to me at all ) are not good enough for him. Hated him. His absence evoked such passion, I thought of him with such vehemence, that it should have been suspicious. I dressed carefully from the ridiculously few items of clothing I had taken and he didnt turn up. He was not worth the hassle, I told myself.