First of all, apologies to Mudpuddlers that I have been quiet the last couple of weeks. To tell you the truth I have had a bout of nothing to sayitis, and felt it best to keep quiet and be a possible fool than open my mouth and leave no doubt at all.
Being a single Mudpuddler, and, as I have lamented on here before, a somewhat lonely one, I have taken to internet dating sites as a means to an end. I am starting to regret it. I have always found the dating scene hard enough as it is, being completely oblivious to being given the come on whether that be with a subtle flash of beautiful eyes, or a rather more obvious statement of intent. Internet dating isn't supposed to be harder! And yet, and yet it most certainly seems to be.
Now, I am no oil painting I'll grant you, but I always fancied I had a certain whimsical attraction, a raspy, rascally smile and such, but over the last few weeks of internet dating (which ought to be known as known as internet humiliation), I am starting to feel like I have a second head that everyone but me can see, or have had some supper from months ago welded to my face without my realising.
I have been meticulous in only trying to engage in conversation those lasses that write a good summary of themselves and seem to want to meet people exactly as I would like to think I am - kind, considerate, warm, amusing and adventurous. Can I get most of them to reply to my missives? Can I bollocks (excuse the French)! I am honestly at a loss to explain why anyone would sign up to a dating website, write all of that and then just ignore someone introducing themselves. 'No thanks' would do, or 'Sorry, I don't like bald guys' or something - but no, I get the cold shoulder from most and the occasional reply seems to consist of 'Sorry, you are not my type' - How do you know?! Seriously, how the hell can you tell without even saying hello to me? I guess 'not my type' equates to 'receeding hairline and no obviously a muscular himbo. So, I get to feel like the Elephant man or some creepy stalker in the shadows on a daily basis. Go me.
It's not supposed to be like this. I am one of the world's good guys - I am supposed to get the girl! And on those occasions when my mask slips and I am clearly not one of the world's good guys but a slightly roguish character - well, hell, I am still supposed to get the girl..... by dint of irresistable roguishness.
It's all a mystery to me, it really is. I am not getting any younger, but I seem to be getting ever more naive. And yet I have come to the realisation that the one thing I don't want to carry through my forties is the loneliness I have taken through a great deal of my thirties.
C'est l'amour, c'est la guerre.
Showing posts with label Dave the lover. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dave the lover. Show all posts
Tuesday, 21 June 2011
Friday, 29 April 2011
Love
Some days are impossible to escape without an epiphany. Today is one of those days. I have realised that things simply have to change for me. I've never been good at expressing my feelings to someone, not to their face in any case. Sure, I can write a bit and occasionally find the words in a poem to say how I feel, but I find it almost impossible to translate that into telling someone, to their face, that I adore them.
I'm not sure why it is, I don't know where the reticence comes from, but I have allowed myself to get too comfortable with being single. However, now beset by the epiphany, I no longer have the luxury of hiding from the truth. I enjoy every moment I spend with friends, family, loved ones and all of them, in their unique way, are treasures to me. However, time with loved ones passes, you cannot bask in their joy every moment of every day, and once the time has gone I am left alone. There is something unwholsome about returning to my house and closing the door - an ominous emptiness overwhlems me sometimes. This is not to say I don't love where I live, or my fabulous little house, but more the sense of longing there to be a light shining out when I return in the dark, a kettle on the boil and arms to wrap around me and welcome me home. As daft as it is, occasionally I am disappointed when none of it is there.
I have seen the committment my parents have to one another, and the strange, but magical love of my grandparents. I watched my sister marry with teenage eyes and over the years I have seen dear friends commit themselves to one another at beautiful ceremonies. I am in awe of them all - to find that spark in each other, and to reach out and hold on to it is something wonderful. I cannot explain why I have never thought, even for a moment, of my own nuptials, a day when I do this. It has always just been something other people do, albeit a truly magnificent thing.
I wish I could tell you it was just that I have never met the right girl, at the right time, but that would be rather too glib. The truth is, I do fall in love, I fall in love rather easily as it happens, but I lock myself into a spiral of self-doubt about it. Oh the times I have cursed myself that not a few hours before my jaw had been upon the floor as my heart erupted in joy at the sight of someone and yet I could only smile awkwardly, make a terrible joke and slip away, muttering and mumbling about it not being the time. After a while, you stop trying, because the disappointment gets too crushing.
So, here we are, I am as self-aware as I have been in a very long time and the situation has become untenable. I have to make the change, I have to start taking the risk. Life is a terribly long journey to try and tackle alone, it stretches out before me, off into an unseen land and every step I take alone becomes heavier. I don't mind admitting too, I am just a little bit scared of taking the journey alone, there is so much to share and so little to appreciate properly as an individual. I'll reach out and find a hand to hold mine. At least, in theory, that would be the next move.
I'm not sure why it is, I don't know where the reticence comes from, but I have allowed myself to get too comfortable with being single. However, now beset by the epiphany, I no longer have the luxury of hiding from the truth. I enjoy every moment I spend with friends, family, loved ones and all of them, in their unique way, are treasures to me. However, time with loved ones passes, you cannot bask in their joy every moment of every day, and once the time has gone I am left alone. There is something unwholsome about returning to my house and closing the door - an ominous emptiness overwhlems me sometimes. This is not to say I don't love where I live, or my fabulous little house, but more the sense of longing there to be a light shining out when I return in the dark, a kettle on the boil and arms to wrap around me and welcome me home. As daft as it is, occasionally I am disappointed when none of it is there.
I have seen the committment my parents have to one another, and the strange, but magical love of my grandparents. I watched my sister marry with teenage eyes and over the years I have seen dear friends commit themselves to one another at beautiful ceremonies. I am in awe of them all - to find that spark in each other, and to reach out and hold on to it is something wonderful. I cannot explain why I have never thought, even for a moment, of my own nuptials, a day when I do this. It has always just been something other people do, albeit a truly magnificent thing.
I wish I could tell you it was just that I have never met the right girl, at the right time, but that would be rather too glib. The truth is, I do fall in love, I fall in love rather easily as it happens, but I lock myself into a spiral of self-doubt about it. Oh the times I have cursed myself that not a few hours before my jaw had been upon the floor as my heart erupted in joy at the sight of someone and yet I could only smile awkwardly, make a terrible joke and slip away, muttering and mumbling about it not being the time. After a while, you stop trying, because the disappointment gets too crushing.
So, here we are, I am as self-aware as I have been in a very long time and the situation has become untenable. I have to make the change, I have to start taking the risk. Life is a terribly long journey to try and tackle alone, it stretches out before me, off into an unseen land and every step I take alone becomes heavier. I don't mind admitting too, I am just a little bit scared of taking the journey alone, there is so much to share and so little to appreciate properly as an individual. I'll reach out and find a hand to hold mine. At least, in theory, that would be the next move.
Tuesday, 29 March 2011
Tale of the smitten
Greetings Mudpuddlees, I trust the day finds you well? I have been thinking today, which is always a good start for a blog entry. I've been thinking about love, or more specifically, about that particular type of rare and cherished love that goes beyond the Sid James smuttery that accompanies the activity of lust. I am talking about being completely smitten. Rather than just thinking about it however (nice though as that is), I have given some thought to how difficult it is to put into words that particular feeling. So it seemed only fair to give it a go, a blogual celebration of smittenness.
The eyes..... oh, the difference when smitten in how you look at someone! There are times when I could quite happily have drowned in a pair of eyes - just to catch the way the light plays on them, or to wait, breath baited, for that flash of playfulness when you share a joke. When you fall, you fall into the eyes, and you can see deeper into them, even behind them than anyone else. They sparkle for you like they do for no other and you can gauge in one glance the mood of your beloved. There is something trult beautiful about the eyes, and something remarkable about love that makes them react differently, look different than in the normal course of events.
Another thing I have noticed is how ludicrous it feels to try and explain ahy you are smitten to anyone else. I have found myself looking at someone and been totally lost for words. How can you not love this girl?! How is it that you are not, as I am, lost in the most tantalising dream whenever she is around? There are, of course, no words, that is the point. The feeling of total devotion cannot be explained in words, it is a statement painted in your actions, it is demonstrated by the person you are whenever they are around you. If you can see that I love her, then no words are necessary.
Sometimes, early in a realtionship especially, you think what would be a romantic gesture, what might be something to show them you think they are quite the catch. The difference when smitten is that you stop thinking of what you'll do and start doing things you know they will love, and why they will love them. Rereading that it is a ridiculously obvious thing to say, but in truth it's an enormous change in a relationship - it is the point you go from trying to impress to doing the things that make the person you love happy. It all links back to the eyes, who wouldn't want to see those eyes melt into an adoring smile, all for you?
The most important differnce though is the difference in how it feels inside to what you could ever describe. As I said, it is so difficult to describe to someone else that is not in the relationship what you feel and why you feel it, and even if you wanted to, the best we can often manage is a lame description which often tails off into embarassment and introversion. How different to the voice inside you though! The voice within that screams at the same time - because her eyes make me melt, because she smells of summer, because I adore her terrible jokes and the shape of her feet makes me giddy inside. Every time I wake up I can't stop grinning when she is next to me, we fit together as spoons better than anyone I have ever known. She makes awful spaghetti bolognaise, so she makes it just for us to laugh at. She understands me, I understand her, we make perfect sense. There is nothing about her I don't fancy totally. Sometimes I stand outside when she is due home because the sight of her coming down the road makes me want to cry with happiness. It's safe to be soft with her, she never teases me for it, and she has my back, always.
Inside, the voices are screaming that. That's when you know you're smitten.
The eyes..... oh, the difference when smitten in how you look at someone! There are times when I could quite happily have drowned in a pair of eyes - just to catch the way the light plays on them, or to wait, breath baited, for that flash of playfulness when you share a joke. When you fall, you fall into the eyes, and you can see deeper into them, even behind them than anyone else. They sparkle for you like they do for no other and you can gauge in one glance the mood of your beloved. There is something trult beautiful about the eyes, and something remarkable about love that makes them react differently, look different than in the normal course of events.
Another thing I have noticed is how ludicrous it feels to try and explain ahy you are smitten to anyone else. I have found myself looking at someone and been totally lost for words. How can you not love this girl?! How is it that you are not, as I am, lost in the most tantalising dream whenever she is around? There are, of course, no words, that is the point. The feeling of total devotion cannot be explained in words, it is a statement painted in your actions, it is demonstrated by the person you are whenever they are around you. If you can see that I love her, then no words are necessary.
Sometimes, early in a realtionship especially, you think what would be a romantic gesture, what might be something to show them you think they are quite the catch. The difference when smitten is that you stop thinking of what you'll do and start doing things you know they will love, and why they will love them. Rereading that it is a ridiculously obvious thing to say, but in truth it's an enormous change in a relationship - it is the point you go from trying to impress to doing the things that make the person you love happy. It all links back to the eyes, who wouldn't want to see those eyes melt into an adoring smile, all for you?
The most important differnce though is the difference in how it feels inside to what you could ever describe. As I said, it is so difficult to describe to someone else that is not in the relationship what you feel and why you feel it, and even if you wanted to, the best we can often manage is a lame description which often tails off into embarassment and introversion. How different to the voice inside you though! The voice within that screams at the same time - because her eyes make me melt, because she smells of summer, because I adore her terrible jokes and the shape of her feet makes me giddy inside. Every time I wake up I can't stop grinning when she is next to me, we fit together as spoons better than anyone I have ever known. She makes awful spaghetti bolognaise, so she makes it just for us to laugh at. She understands me, I understand her, we make perfect sense. There is nothing about her I don't fancy totally. Sometimes I stand outside when she is due home because the sight of her coming down the road makes me want to cry with happiness. It's safe to be soft with her, she never teases me for it, and she has my back, always.
Inside, the voices are screaming that. That's when you know you're smitten.
Monday, 29 November 2010
Turkey Shoot
I thought I'd try a little experiment today. Some time ago I decided to stay single. I wonder, in hindsight, if that were not just a convenient excuse not to have to play the singles game any more. So I promised myself I would come on here and make a post, and I wouldn't think about it in advance. It would just be me, thinking and typing about romance in the sass-filled teenies (or whatever decade this now is) and I wouldn't hold back, or obfuscate. So here we are, and here I go, look away now if you have a weak constitution. This is what I believe they call in the politics trade, a 'courageous' choice.
When I left love and romance behind, for a while I felt like a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders, you see truthfully I never really 'got' the whole thing. Now I don't mean by that relationships in and of themselves, I have had some truly fantastic relationships (and some truly hideous ones), and I can recognise the little voice inside me telling me I am nicely loved up. No, it's the ridiculous posturing and peacockery that precedes love that I cannot abide or understand.
Do I tell you that I think you are beautiful, or do I give some sort of masonic nod and a wink across the crowded bar? Am I supposed to fall in love with you before I disclose my feelings or is that a negotiable part of the whole relationship package? Would you rather not know about my feelings after all? You begin to see the picture.... total and utter neurosis. Let's hang an enormous negative around my neck before I even start. Dave went into administration at the end of his last relationship, he starts the love chase on -15 points. Or something like that anyway.
Notwithstanding all of that, I found it a relief not to be in the game anymore because I am petrified of rejection. I completely understand that there are people out there who don't want to jump my bones for some odd and personal reason, but within the bubble of singledom I can count that as a curio, a weird malfunction in someone that does not swoon at my feet. In reality, I imagine being laughed at, I imagine that my feelings, deeply held and framed in just the right words are greeted with derision, scorn or a simple dismissal out of hand. Feelings deserve better than that, and it would only take one occurance and I'd never have the stomach to brave it again. So I don't, I stay quiet and safe and let the years slip away.
I'm hiding. I have allowed the very thought of the romance game become fraught. It really is a bind, part of me wants to draw a line, start again, have fun learning how to play the game all over again, but then there is the part of me that is just disappointed in myself, angry that I am denying myself a fundamental part of happiness in the human condition. It's a mess, frankly, and I guess I hoped that writing about it on here would be a first step - to where, I am not sure, but somewhere is better than nowhere. Somewhere would be different, different right now would be good.
I'll finish by saying it's not like I have been able (or ever wanted) to give up feeling and falling. That still happens, but I stand back, terrified and full of my neuroses and despite my heart wanting to burst I stay silent. Love is a feeling that deserves to be spoken, and it breaks my heart when I betray it like that.
When I left love and romance behind, for a while I felt like a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders, you see truthfully I never really 'got' the whole thing. Now I don't mean by that relationships in and of themselves, I have had some truly fantastic relationships (and some truly hideous ones), and I can recognise the little voice inside me telling me I am nicely loved up. No, it's the ridiculous posturing and peacockery that precedes love that I cannot abide or understand.
Do I tell you that I think you are beautiful, or do I give some sort of masonic nod and a wink across the crowded bar? Am I supposed to fall in love with you before I disclose my feelings or is that a negotiable part of the whole relationship package? Would you rather not know about my feelings after all? You begin to see the picture.... total and utter neurosis. Let's hang an enormous negative around my neck before I even start. Dave went into administration at the end of his last relationship, he starts the love chase on -15 points. Or something like that anyway.
Notwithstanding all of that, I found it a relief not to be in the game anymore because I am petrified of rejection. I completely understand that there are people out there who don't want to jump my bones for some odd and personal reason, but within the bubble of singledom I can count that as a curio, a weird malfunction in someone that does not swoon at my feet. In reality, I imagine being laughed at, I imagine that my feelings, deeply held and framed in just the right words are greeted with derision, scorn or a simple dismissal out of hand. Feelings deserve better than that, and it would only take one occurance and I'd never have the stomach to brave it again. So I don't, I stay quiet and safe and let the years slip away.
I'm hiding. I have allowed the very thought of the romance game become fraught. It really is a bind, part of me wants to draw a line, start again, have fun learning how to play the game all over again, but then there is the part of me that is just disappointed in myself, angry that I am denying myself a fundamental part of happiness in the human condition. It's a mess, frankly, and I guess I hoped that writing about it on here would be a first step - to where, I am not sure, but somewhere is better than nowhere. Somewhere would be different, different right now would be good.
I'll finish by saying it's not like I have been able (or ever wanted) to give up feeling and falling. That still happens, but I stand back, terrified and full of my neuroses and despite my heart wanting to burst I stay silent. Love is a feeling that deserves to be spoken, and it breaks my heart when I betray it like that.
Monday, 1 November 2010
Love, that weird game we once played
Sometimes it isn't until you sit down and analyse yourself that you realise where you are falling short. I've been a confirmed bachelor for what, 15 years now? I can't remember what it is like to share life with someone, so I am not entirely sure why I suddenly expect it to happen.
Of course, it is not just about remembering what it is like to share life with someone, it is remembering how to be, or seem, in that situation. I'm not good at 'getting' it - I consistently fail to pick up subtext and I am useless at reading between the lines. There are games played in the world of romance that I don't even begin to understand the rules of. Having said all of that, I miss it. I miss it like crazy. That giddy helter-skelter ride that whisks you away from the first moment and dumps you, months later, on your head and completely at a loss to explain any of the time just passed.
Every time I have said those three words, I have meant them, truly and from somewhere I didn't even realise I had. But it is always different, always a new feeling, always at odds with my previous understanding of love. Each time I fall, I fall differently - normally head first, always at pace. So why does this all feel like something that used to happen, but won't again? Where exactly did I stop falling and start learning to stay afloat regardless?
In truth, that is why I am missing it now. Because it feels like a story I have been part of, but my part in it has ended. I still feel affection, I still feel longing and boy do I ever still feel desire, but that leap of faith from longing to love seems an impossible transition. Right now I have an image in my head of the last girl I loved. I can see her in perfect clarity, as if she were here right now. I remember how I would feel waiting for her to come to my flat, the joy of hearing her footfalls on the stairs, the way she would smile and kiss me as we met and how proud I was to be part of something really good. She was magnificent, and I'd give anything to feel that way again. It can't ever truly be game over, can it?
Of course, it is not just about remembering what it is like to share life with someone, it is remembering how to be, or seem, in that situation. I'm not good at 'getting' it - I consistently fail to pick up subtext and I am useless at reading between the lines. There are games played in the world of romance that I don't even begin to understand the rules of. Having said all of that, I miss it. I miss it like crazy. That giddy helter-skelter ride that whisks you away from the first moment and dumps you, months later, on your head and completely at a loss to explain any of the time just passed.
Every time I have said those three words, I have meant them, truly and from somewhere I didn't even realise I had. But it is always different, always a new feeling, always at odds with my previous understanding of love. Each time I fall, I fall differently - normally head first, always at pace. So why does this all feel like something that used to happen, but won't again? Where exactly did I stop falling and start learning to stay afloat regardless?
In truth, that is why I am missing it now. Because it feels like a story I have been part of, but my part in it has ended. I still feel affection, I still feel longing and boy do I ever still feel desire, but that leap of faith from longing to love seems an impossible transition. Right now I have an image in my head of the last girl I loved. I can see her in perfect clarity, as if she were here right now. I remember how I would feel waiting for her to come to my flat, the joy of hearing her footfalls on the stairs, the way she would smile and kiss me as we met and how proud I was to be part of something really good. She was magnificent, and I'd give anything to feel that way again. It can't ever truly be game over, can it?
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