Not to worry

I met him again. In private. Yes, I just asked. It was different than the first time and I was afraid that he was a bit bored. But then, my expectations were high this time around. We did talk for two hours. There were so many things I didn’t ask. I should really be grateful instead of fretting. There was a long hug after that. I came over again a few weeks later and asked him out to lunch with only a few hours’ notice, and of course he couldn’t make it. He wrote me a short e-mail a day later and yet another one two days after that. I was just so glad about that. I really want to think of him as my friend. I told him that I worried about him; however, he told me not to. What I meant to say was that I cared about him and I do. Deeply. I really want him to be well. I know he is struggling. I wish I could help. In a way I can, but I’m also afraid of doing it wrong. Just not doing anything at all isn’t the way to go, either. I love him so, but I want him to still think of me as a friend, too.

Original post, September 8th

Good thing that nothing really ever gets lost on WordPress (or is it?). Here is the original post of seven weeks ago that I thought was gone, since I didn’t have time to press the “publish button”. Thanks for auto-saving.

I have seen him today. It was lovely, but as I thought I didn’t have the courage to ask him for another private meeting. I will see him – hopefully – in six weeks and will definitely ask then, because I need something to look forward to. Even the six coming weeks seem like an incredibly, unbearably long time. I think I got slightly drunk. I called S. and asked him to remind me not to be so hard on myself tomorrow. I learned that he had had an accident even before our last time. I does explain a lot. I was stupid enough to ask him to answer my mails, even though he did answer the last one. They drove me across town so I had an easier time getting where I needed to go, but they professed that they weren’t going out of their way. Again, I should be so thankful for all that. I’ll write a quick mail thanking them again and saying that I got home alright (If that is ever the case), maybe apologising just quickly for scolding him unneccessarily. Turns out someone else was not ignorant of me after all. Sounds a bit like a horoscope with me trying to avoid all names, but it is necessary.

Running (towards, not away)

I told him about my running ambitions. He answered almost immediately. There is something. It’ll take a long time, but I have to keep trying. One more topic to cover. Maybe that’ll get me closer to another meeting. It just has to work out.

The working part is a bit complicated, as I have to pay for most of it myself unless I’m willing to give up control of my own time. Not willing to do that yet. But things are moving, literally.

Friday the 19th

I got an e-mail again today. Friday is new. It seems like he writes when I least expect him to. He was sick again. I know I shouldn’t worry, but it does seem as though his immune system is a bit out of whack. Can’t wait to see him again. One more month. Hope we’ll meet privately after that; this time I’ll bring a “cheat sheet”. I also know that he needs some time, as all friendships (yes, I talk of friendship now) do. Must “work” on my other (real) friendships more, but these I tend to take for granted. I know that I mustn’t.

I’ll have two consultations next week. Hope these will “make me work”. I know I have to get there myself, just need directions.

No weigh-in this week. Might go back to WW temporarily, after a planned pig-out on Monday. I’m provisionally on WW now, so no excuse about not starting before Monday. Did the treadmill on top of Power Plate session yesterday, walked 4k in 45 mins. 100 miles in 100 days? I’m there already. One of these days I’ll start running.

*update: I walked 5 miles on the treadmill. My legs now hurt. I know that it’ll take a year until I’ll be able to run 5k at beginners’ level. But I might get there, eventually.

I love him. But I really want to be his friend. Really.

I tried to post a few days ago, but my time ran out before I could save the entry. I saw him again and it was lovely as ever. However, I haven’t asked him for a private meeting yet. I will see him again in 39 days and hope there’ll be a chance to ask then. Still, I hope that he’ll say yes. I first of all hope that an opportunity will arise to ask him at all then.

I’m getting a consultation tomorrow, but I don’t know yet whether I will touch upon this subject at all. I think I have to, as this so dictates my life right now. I hope I have not done anything wrong last time. Waiting for an answer to a short email again …

I’ll very soon be under ten stone. My goal is to drop under sixty kgs before October 19th.

I really really hope that he’ll agree to meet me in private again. Please. I need to talk to him again. Is it because I am genuinely interested in him or is it because I crave somebody’s – anybody’s – undivided attention? I do think that I want to find out as much as I can about him, because I do care. I so hope he finds me interesting enough to fill another four hours. It was so unexpected, but as usual, I was not entirely able to enjoy the time I had with him. I need to work on this. I so hope he’ll say yes. I need something to look forward to.

I only really have the urge to write when something is bothering me. Not much is happening now. I occasionally get a warm, fuzzy feeling when I’m thinking of him. Hope it’ll persist. Keeps me going.

At least my bedroom is tidied up now and I’ve finished Coetzee and started on Murakami. Waiting for the first weekend in September …

Wednesday morning, 11.15 a.m.

I got an answer from him. Out of the blue. Still don’t believe it. He’s well. Alive and well. Life’s good. 25 days to go. I love him.

I mustn’t start resenting him now. I did write an e-mail and now I’m worried sick. This is not healthy, but then, don’t we like exactly these things? Why am I so obsessed? Or is it that I just like to think it is affecting me more than it really is? I am so confused. Is it all just a ploy to distract myself from my real problems? I really want to hear from him. I know he probably needs some time. I know when there’s nothing tomorrow morning, I will fall apart. Or I’ll go completely numb.

He has someone to take care of him, if he really needs anyone at all. He certainly doesn’t need me to worry, too.

The foggy, foggy dew

I can’t concentrate. I feel almost physically sick at the moment. I’ve been trying to finish reading a book for two weeks now and my bedroom is a mess. I need to write him an e-mail, even at the expense of waiting for an answer again for ever. Or, worst case, hearing that yes, I am bothering him after all.

I don’t know whether to like or hate the song. When I found out that he had a son and wasn’t married (although has been living with his son’s mother forever) I started liking (then loving) him even more. There is a scene in SATC where Carrie asks herself (by way of Miranda) if Alec is ever going to love her enough, even if she won’t have a child with him. At least others think so as well. Or is it just that I am being a total bitch and “loving him even more” translates to “it makes it harder, but more interesting to get him to like me, me, me” (and no-one else). The day I rediscovered the song I woke up from an afternoon nap (that I shouldn’t have taken anyway), almost in a panic. When we (finally) met, he mentioned explicitly that he loved children. Even the fact that he talked to me alone for so long should me make me grateful, but instead just has me worried that it might never happen again. At least it somewhat changed my attitude towards children crying or even screaming in public, because it makes me think of him now, as does pretty much everything else. But why exactly do I worry? S. mentioned that he didn’t know all that went on in my head, so I shouldn’t assume that he felt bothered at all. I so so want him to be well, even if he doesn’t want to talk to me again. I really hope that he does, though. When I saw him with the kid in his arms, it reminded me of our conversation, but that’s all I ever think about anyway (the conversation, not kids). It just killed me not to get to say good-bye properly last time. I am obsessive, I know. Just have to hide it. Please let there be another conversation. Please.