Just now, I happened to remember the imminent birthday of my most recent ex, The Poet, and, wishing her a happy day, ended up getting into a little SMS exchange, setting up a possible date (Platonic, of course) for later in the week.
While I was doing that, I received an e-mail from a friend in the UK - one of several I've met through my experiment with Internet dating, but the only one with whom I might have been tempted to pursue a closer relationship. She is possibly the cleverest, kindest, nicest woman I know, and I have a huge soft spot for her. She has always been interested and supportive through my various romantic misadventures; she was, in particular, a great comfort through the long despair that accompanied the failure of my relationship with The Poet. She hadn't been in touch for quite a while now, and was asking for my 'news'...... so I felt prompted to start analysing the state of play with my current romantic obsession, 'Madame X'. And that's not a promising situation.
A strange coincidence that these three women for whom I have the fondest feelings should all collide in my thoughts at the same time. Cruel Fate, why......?
Perhaps it's the onset of Seasonal Affective Disorder; perhaps it's overtiredness from a string of late nights and a tedious afternoon of editing work; perhaps it's the excessive emotional lubrication that results from celebrating the end of the editing with a pint of rum'n'coke..... but I find myself sitting here with moist cheeks....
When it comes to women, I am a hopeless, hopeless case....
3 comments:
Perhaps (and forgive the cliche) you're just an old romantic softie at heart? charming really!
"moist cheeks"
i like that.
my own are feeling soft and wrinkled, as what happens to skin after soaking in a "Calgon take me away" bath for 10 minutes too long.
Yes, I have been called The World's Least Curable Romantic.
I don't fall often, but when I do I fall heavily (and almost invariably for the 'wrong kind' of woman), and it takes me years to get over it.
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