Dating

Just under two weeks after S and I had out first serious spat, the subject of which was the pace or lack thereof of our thing, I ended up sat on a couch in Chelmsford, meeting her parents. The opportunity had come together very quickly, they being around and I being able to find a couple of days to make the trip to meet them. The meeting itself felt at times like an interview, an inquisition and a friendly chat; good in the sense that it put into context the protective nature of the relationships S has with her wider family. On the way back, I broached the difficult 6-month, ‘Us’ question, her choice of answer - what do you think - suggesting that perhaps events had overtaken that by far. That I agree with. So here we are then - official, in a manner of speaking. Beginning again then, the first day of what I can only hope is a long, fruitful relationship :) ...

--- God has a sense of humour, that much I am convinced of. The most recent evidence of this has got to be firing up John Piper’s Daily Devotional, Solid Joys, to find out that today’s devotional had marriage firmly in its sights. The humour was because S and I had just had our first spat of sorts the night before. At the nexus of this spat was a difference in opinion as to where we were on the relationship continuum. I was of the opinion that she needed to provide a response that defined what we were - being just really good friends or people in an active relationship that had marriage as it’s end goal. Her contention was that the fact that she gave up time and energy to meet up with me and do stuff suggested that there was firm interest on her part, but that time was required to get to a place where she could formally say ‘Yes’ to my entreaties. ...

Sometime ago, not without some misgivings I must add, I moved desks at work, all part of the new re-stacking policy designed around optimising our use of space. Following the move, I went from a desk which looked on into the central corridor with my computer facing away from the door to one where my view was the bus station across the road. The view was decidedly an upgrade, what came with it though was a sense of being blinded to people milling about behind me and coming in to meet me, particularly on the occasions when I have my head phones plugged in to maximise my concentration. ...

Over the weekend, after one of those marathon conversations with S which grew arms and legs, segueing from work related issues into past loves and twin boy names, I caught myself wondering what all this was. Whilst I have gone out of my way to declare my intentions, I have neither had a yay or a nay back; she and I continuing to subsist in this fluid space where we are more than friends but without any labels to attach. Whilst the feeling is one of a strong mutual connection, part of me does ponder the why’s of the lack of black and white commitment to date… ...

In trying to understand how I end up in places like this far too often, I suddenly realise I may have a Mosby problem. Like him, the protagonist in How I Met Your Mother, I fall too hard too soon, focus on a single individual who I think is the one to the exclusion of all other potential options only to end up disappointed time and time again. The simplest change I can implement - and the crassest from the looks of it - is to not pin my hopes on one person too early; keeping multiple options lined up such that when one opportunity fails to materialise, the cycle time between picking up with the next option is significantly reduced. This neither tastes nor sounds right but given the limited time one has left, it feels like the only choice. Sigh :(

Almost three months to the day since I first met S, these arrived at hers with a note that tried to up the ante. The facts are what they are: I really really like her, we get along very well and I’d like to be a lot more than just friends with her, potentially the future Mrs S. Her call now… #Waiting

Months ago - when it became apparent that my birthday this year would fall on a work day - I made a mental note to take the day off. The act of making that official - signing into the absence management software we use at work and requesting the day off - never happened, which was how I ended up stuck behind my desk at work on the day. That the only slot for a meeting I had been trying to set up for months opened up on the day, the Friday before, didn’t help either. ...

I never cease to be amazed by how flights which ostensibly last an hour end up morphing into all day affairs, which leads me to think that flying is perhaps one of the greatest swindles on earth. In my experience, by the time one arrives at the airport, goes through security and then waits to board, the better part of two hours has very easily been burned. When the inner city travel requirements are tacked on, everything very easily rolls up to between three and four hours. On this occasion, my flight due to leave at 12.05 pm ends up delayed which is how it is well past 4.00 pm by the time my train rolls into Romford where I plan on basing myself on this trip. All that leaves me is time to get myself checked into my room, find a quick bite and then start heading back to the O2 Arena for the opening night of the Hillsong Conference Europe, which is my primary reason for this trip. ...

She is wolfing down a doughnut, cup of coffee in hand when I appear, trying to find my assigned seat. I feel like I have startled her somewhat, given how quickly she begins to organise the stuff she has all over the place. The sense of having intruded on a private, unguarded moment is made worse by finding my assigned seat is across from her, in seats so tight our feet play that dance of hide and seek beneath the table until we find a system that works. ...

Image Source The conversation - when it happened - happened on a whim; as unplanned as could have been. The intent - to set up a face to face meeting later in the week - quickly snowballed into a full-on conversation about the direction the whole L thing was headed. As it turned out, it was headed nowhere. It, the culmination of months of chasing, was about as anti-climactic as could be, worsened perhaps by how sure I thought I was that this was it. A lot of things sucked about it - not least the fact that the reasons offered; the uncertainty around work and the pressure from family all felt like convenient cop-outs. That my interest, made known clearly and consistently over the past few months ultimately counted for nothing felt like a slap in my face. The alternative too felt inferior. True he was probably a lot more heeled than I was, but there was baggage which I didn’t have which - given the seriousness with which L had seemed to chase this - should have counted for a lot more than it. ...