Lost in London

I'm a bit lost. I live in London. A blog about my mess of a life.

Tube.

I’m in a tube watching a couple. Both dressed in black. Professional.

Her in overcoat and boots. Him in the same. They don’t talk. They don’t even look at eachother. Both looking at their iPhones.

He asks if she’s okay. She nods. Not even uttering a word.

I notice their wedding rings. And I wonder if this is them always. Do they never talk? Have they been married long?

I guess this is what worries me about marriage. Pure apathy. No passion. No communication.

I’m sure that they are fine. Why wouldn’t they be. This was just 5 stops on the tube after a long day. Perhaps even a funeral. Who knows. It was a snapshot.

But the look in their eyes. I never want that. I never want that apathy.

I’ve had it before.

I want to care. I want to feel something.

W emailed me today.

The final act in W.

I write this post having just re read the last one below.

It’s funny how things work.

After days of talking every day. Of seeing each other. Of gifts. Of love and sex, W and I have gone separate ways.

I always knew this day would come. Perhaps not so quickly after an intense period of togetherness but I knew. That was the whole point.

I should have known this was coming this soon though. I let myself get wrapped up. I usually like having every single angle worked out before. I missed this one.

She didn’t pick her boyfriend over me as such. But she can’t have us both. In essence she did pick him. But I was never an option. I know that. It still hurts though.

I remember saying to W that she reminded me of Z once. Z was probably my first real obsessive love. Readers of the blog will know all about Z.

It feels similar. Not in every way, but in some.

It made me think that there must be something in our human nature that when we are being treated badly but then being treated well that seems to give us some sort of dependency. The extremes of being treated with extremes blows us away.

W never treated me badly. Nor did Z. Not on purpose. But they evoke a similar feeling in me.

What next? I need to take a break. To reflect and take stock on everything. I find it hard to stop searching for women to fuck. Even when I’m not horny. Technology has made my thirsty even when I’m not in need to be quenched. Boredom doesn’t help either.

Will I never hear from W again? I don’t know. I’d be surprised if I didn’t, for over 10 years I’ve thought I’d never hear from Z. Yet I still do.

History tends to repeat.

What next?

I’ve not written much for awhile.

It’s been a busy time. I’ve been away. I’ve worked a lot. Of seen people. Things have ended. Things have started. .

Firstly. I still speak to W. She stayed at mine for two night in a row. She still has a BF. He’s still as crazy as ever. He’s still not right for her. Sitting outside someone’s flat for hours is not normal behaviour. Alas. A person can only make decisions for themselves.

As things have changed between W and I so have I. It’s hard to know why. I don’t want to lose her. Though inevitably I will when she leaves the country. Which isn’t far off now.

But I haven’t told her everything. What I’ve done or who I have seen. I dunno if this was always going to happen or if the journey to this point was paved by the truths she told me.

We even got gifts for each other for Christmas. They were thoughtful and meaningful.

She has a Boyfriend.

I sometimes think she sees me as emotional support only. Which is ironic given that we had been exclusively about sex.

I’ve always seen a number of other woman. Though not at the same pace. There is a new letter to add to the list, G. G is someone I met through a friend. Delightfully random and local to me she loves vintage clothing including many vintage pieces of underwear.

Her bedroom like a scene from the moulin rogue. All black and red. Vintage bed. Candles. Mirrors. Dressers. Like stepping into the past.

Her body pale. Her hair red. Like a fantasy from a bygone era.

She is older. Older even that A. Her body curvy but with tiny hips. A throw back. She’s open sexually. Loud. Talkative.

She’s fun. Interesting. She leaves the country soon too. I’m sensing a trend. I imagine we will become friends. It will be nice. She wants a relationship. But she has needs. Pragmatic. I like her. But sweet.

A and I still talk. Exclusively via tex messages. I sent her a card and to her family too. She did the same.

Z and I speak here and there via text messages too.

There are others. Fashion girl. Another local girl I haven’t slept with yet.

But what to do about W?

We have a quasi relationship. That much is true. We had sex a few weeks ago, it was the first time in months.

It was special. Romantic. I photographed her in a darkened bathroom with candles. We bathed and had sex. It was a release. It was special.

But she loves someone more. A situation I didn’t think I’d be in with her, but have been many times before.

I don’t want to go out with her. I am unsure how we’d work. But I feel something.

She leaves soon.

I’m not lost at all anymore. I feel I know myself better. I’m making better decisions. Not regretting sex or feeling guilty.

What do I do next? I don’t know. But that’s okay.

I don’t need to know everything.

Anaesthetised

This blog was called Lost in London from the start.

It started as an emotional depository for me. It was dark. I felt lost in myself.

I don’t feel very lost right now. Maybe that’s because of this blog. Or maybe I’m become anaesthetised to what it all means.

Last night I had sex. That won’t come to any surprise. The days when I haven’t had sex over the past 6 months are less common than when I do.

It was exciting at the start. She was a girl I met the week before. We explored. She was open we spoke about sex a great deal and we did things that aren’t as mainstream. Anal play, squirting, very rough play. But I found it boring.

That may have been because I had slept with E the night before. The first time in 3 months. It was also pretty average. Apart from the cuts all over my body and her bruises. It wasn’t what I really wanted. Her body was smooth and pale as usual. Her hair bright. The familiarity wasn’t something I enjoyed.

The Girl From Last Night stayed too as E had the night before. The Girl From Last Night tried to have sex with me again but I rebuffed it. It wasn’t what I wanted. Not with her.

I kept thinking of W. She has still contact with me. Via some messaging apps and email. I wanted to tell her. To make her jealous.

After The Girl From Last Night left I was messaged another girl I had started speaking to during the day on a dating site. She was thin, a fashion designer. She also was partial to adult photography and group sex parties. I don’t know how I attract these people. It’s a good thing I didn’t know these people or of the opportunity when I was younger. I dread to think the impact. I doubt many people think much of this blog is true. But trust me it’s all true.

After The Girl From Last Night left I went on Skype and masturbated with The Fashion girl. The scent of sex still on me. It turned me on. The Fashion Girl is small, thin and fair. Big eyes. She’s different to the others. Though W holds something special for me physically. The Fashion Girl fascinates. High cheek bones, pert shapes. Scars down one side of smooth looking skin.

I’m not sure why I didn’t want to have sex with the girl from last night. Maybe I didn’t find her attractive. She reminded me of someone, an older friend of the family, and I couldn’t get that image out of my head. Most disconcerting.

But I needed that release.

I don’t feel lost. I just don’t have any aims.

With no expectations apart from egotistical career focused ones I feel numb. But relaxed.

Less lost. Just in some sort of selfish purgatory.

Resilience.

The last few weeks have not surprised me.

They have pleased me. Not because of what’s happened. What has happened has been quite sad.

W and I have carried on speaking. Mainly email. On the phone too. Sporadic. That’s not the sad part by the way.

Though things have changed. And for awhile things won’t change back.

We haven’t seen each other for awhile, until last night.

It was lovely. But she now feels a heavy load and when she sees me the load becomes heavier with repression and guilt. We didn’t have sex. But the smell of her hair, the way her lip curls on the side, the way her hair felt. Her bashful smile. That was enough for me. The last look however told me everything. But that’s for me to remember.

Control is a funny thing. Little things, done often enough, exerted on someone will make them change. A tweak here. A tweak there. A word here. A look even, it adds up. Sometimes it’s not even obvious. A trigger may be a text. An email. A phone call.

With enough tweaks someone can be controlled.

It’s why I’m so carful with what I say to people.

No one should control anyone.

So why am I pleased?

Because I’m calm. I’m dealing with things and letting it hit me. I slept last night. I don’t feel down 24 hours a day.

I feel sad. I know I can deal with most things thrown at me. It’s quite scary at the same time. I feel a physical reaction when I feel negative feelings.

What do I do now? I have no options. But I do see what is coming. I can only continue. I miss W. But one thing I’ve learnt is that chasing and pressure only leads to pain. However long it takes. The road to ruin is pathed with bad control.

Usually means I lose what I want though.

I think that has already happened.

‘A’ used to say to me that she’d never want anything bad to happen to me, because I’d not be able to deal with it mentally.

I never thought that was true. My resilience was hidden from her.

If only she knew.

via Tumblr http://lostinldn.tumblr.com/post/68112127380

W ends.

I think of every possible outcome in every situation. Sometimes this goes to extremes, to fantasies that never happen.

It’s part of my control. I need to have control, to have understanding. I strive for understanding every day. About everything.

W and I saw each other last week. We had dinner and we had sex. I was consumed by her. We spoke for hours. I had missed her.

In the week that came, a lot changed.

Firstly her boyfriend forgave her. But with a twist, she was allowed to see other people.

First of all this turned us both on. But I feared that this was just the start.

The next day things were different. He didn’t want us to see each other any more.

W said she would make sure I was kept in her life. I was skeptical. It wasn’t on the cards.

It turns out I was right. I had seen this all in my head. I knew it would all happen this way.

I’m always the other guy. Oddly enough this is the fourth time the actual guy is named her boyfriend’s name. It’s a co-incidence not wasted on me. God I hate that name.

I feel a fool. I feel sad, I feel low. But that’s just an initial feeling. Why I have that feeling is more interesting.

I had started to adore and love her. Or a feeling close to it. That wasn’t in the plan. She opened me up. She allowed me to be me, but also to be accepted. I felt free. I felt at home. We shared many things. Many similarities. I shall have to remember the smiles, the laughter, her voice. Her body and curves. Her face when I knew she wasn’t tell me what she was thinking.

What next. I don’t know. A part of me thinks that the final email she sent me wasn’t her. It seemed cold, it wasn’t W. Perhaps under some sort of pressure. But at the same time, I had predicted this. I had seen this.

I’m a scary judge of a situation.

Consistency.

Ambiguity is difficult.  So often we just want to find consistency. Comfort. That feeling of knowing. 

I’ve made that mistake before. Many times. I miss the consistency, grow uncomfortable with the ambiguity and make mistakes. You convince yourself it’s right. You need a constant, no matter what it means for you or other people.

W and I have been talking a lot. It’s been up and down. I’ve started to care for her. To need her. 

It was supposed to be about sex. But it’s more now. But it’s complex.

W has someone who loves her. Gives her an intensity that fuels her. She has gone backwards and forwards with her feelings for him. But she feels she needs to be his constant. Or maybe she needs to have him as her constant. I dunno. I think the former personally. 

I feel rejected. Though I didn’t want to give her the things she needs I don’t think. My obsession kicks in like it has many times before. Needing something. Craving. 

But is it different? I’ve never been this honest with someone and that is refreshing. Will I do it again? I don’t know. I should. But being this open also has it’s issues. 

But during the times I was with W I felt less lost. I had a clarity. 

Now I need to erase that. I may have lost my own clarity but I know I have to. 

Another lesson. 

 

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