Last night was the most twisted night I have had in forever (that might be a lie, but right this moment if feels that way). I’m a firm believer that we all experience things to learn a lesson of some sort. Both fantastic and downright terrible things; about ourselves, others and the world we are involuntarily a part of.
So *Frank has made a re-appearance in my life. After a series of roller coaster moments (with fabulous peaks, beautiful plutonic waves & really distasteful lows) I decided to cut him out of my life a few months ago, mainly because I was just pouring too much into a seemingly hole-riddled jug. I got to a point where I didn’t have enough fingers to stop the liquid from seeping out. Too much slaving. Even for the most patient, giving soul.
I sent him an email stating why I was snipping him out. An email you ask? Well, that’s about all he deserved to be honest. And then he had the cheek to email me back with bullet points and red lettering under each paragraph I had written. The nerve.
A few weeks ago I dreamt that I had seen him and he came up to me to apologise about the email he sent back (it was pretty darn cold and rude that). The strangest thing is that I had honestly not been thinking about him. I no longer had his number, blocked him on gmail, Facebook and my mind. I was at that point where; whenever I heard a song that he gave to me I enjoyed the song for what it was and it didn’t remind me of him. What a lovely place to be.
After the dream I felt like I had taken 5 giant leaps backwards, I missed him again, worried about his wellbeing and all the other frills that come with such leaps.
Lo & behold, a couple days later he walks into the same bar/lounge/club me and my 2 besties are at. I literally gasped and grabbed both of them (they were sitting either side of me, I think I actually had one of each of their breasts in my hand, but we didn’t take note) I quickly straightened myself up before he caught a glimpse of me. He stopped in his tracks momentarily and then restarted smoothly, came over to say hello, handshake and then he was off to the bar. I couldn’t believe I had seen him.
How coincidental. I didn’t know how I felt about him being there. Sara P & I were already feeling down about her leaving in a weeks time. Caitie was trying to cheer us up but to no avail. Towards the end of my time at the bar one of his friends came looking for me. He found me and told me it was *Frank’s best friend’s farewell (who I have to mention is an absolute sweetheart). What was I to do? He led me to where he was and I approached him tentatively (he is Frank’s friend and that – in my mind - was not my territory at all). He swooped me up and gave me the biggest hug. Was extremely happy to see me. I suspect the liquor he had been offered from all directions had something to do with this :)
The very corner of my eye caught a glimpse of *Frank; he was staring, I couldn’t quite make out what his expression was screaming. After a bit of a dance and chitter chatter with his best bud I went off to continue with my life. I was waiting for a friend and *Frank walked up to me and started up a conversation. I was brief. Cold. “Yes”, “No” type answers. I had a shell. I knew it was there, but never so visible to me – it’s owner. It was shielding my healthy bouncing heart.
He then plunged into what seemed like the most sincere apology I have heard (seen) in a long long time. I stood there, frozen. At a loss for words, teetering on the edge of a teardrop. I got my footing and stepped away from the edge. I listened and listened.
I thought and thought. That hard shell still keeping me from feeling entirely.
He told me that I didn’t deserve the way he had treated me, nor the email he sent. He told me he writes about me in his journal and I’m “an absolute champ” in it, that he often thinks that when he’s an old man someday he’ll look back on the time in Cape Town and think about what a big loss it was that we were not together. He told me that he had shared some of his most innermost thoughts, feeling & experiences with me, he told me he loved my energy, he told me he loved spending time with me, he told me he liked me, a lot. He told me that if we were in a different time and space (and he didn’t finish that sentence, we both knew). He told me I that I’m a beautiful, intelligent woman. He then apologised again for his dick behaviour. (Please understand, I have looked through the dictionary and thesaurus and tried to replace that word with a more civilised word, and for the love of God, I struggled and failed to find one. Dick it is.)
He gave me a side hug. Which I gave him a suggestive look for. His response “What, I’m trying to hold back” and then went in for a proper, real hug.
The intensity.
He asked me to come home with him. This I laughed at. What a joker. I ignored his silly request. He grabbed my hand and asked me to please come home with him. The shell was beginning to dissolve. Unfortunately.
I made it crystal clear that if we do go home together there would be no sexual play whatsoever. That if we did end up under the same roof, it would be to talk and catch up. I told him to please pick another girl if what he wanted was sex. He looked me dead in the eye and said “ If I were to go home with anyone in this entire place, it would have to be you, even if its just to talk”. I think the shell stopped working at this point.
We went to his place. My room was an absolute mess. Still is.
When we got there we grabbed a blanket and some cushions and went to the rooftop of his building. He lives right by the sea. We sat there listening to the ocean and taking in the fresh seabreeze. He said I wish we could just start over. Start over?
We went to bed after he warmed my feet between his legs, tickling me and exchanging back massages. He held me as though he was about to lose me. We had stuck to my rule and yet the passion was nearly tangible.
Almost clutching onto the moment and not me. Only just.
Morning came and the grip was still as tight.
We both had to continue with our separate lives. I left and decided not to take down his number. I could see he hated this. But my shell was now, yet again, intact.
A peck on the lips and I was out.
I wrote something a few days ago to describe how I felt when I left that apartment. The emotion was so distinct. I will never forget it. Here is my description:
The minute I stepped out of the apartment building and felt the sting of the sunshine on the top of my eyeballs. I began to split into a million tiny pieces with merely the clothes on my back and beret atop my head holding me together. Fragility I could never comprehend. He had my heart. Three storeys above where I stood. He busily walked around the apartment straightening it up. Oblivious to the part of me he held in a handkerchief stuffed in the pocket of the trousers he wore.
I had to continue walking. I had to.
We exchanged some emails which I initiated. And then, again, cold, cut-off *Frank stood before me. That hole-riddled jug.
I decided a few days later not to be so ruled by my ego. There was a nagging feeling telling me I’d regret it if I didn’t try harder. You know, extend the arm a little.
So I wrote him to invite him to an event happening last night. He couldn’t make it because he had prior commitments. The responses got shorter and colder.
Somehow I got a hold of his number. I decided to text him after talking to a girlfriend of mine about it. She left the option to me. Texted him, no response, tried calling him, no response.
A friend from Italy who is leaving today gave me a call and asked me to come to Waiting Room to join him on his last night. So I went.
We got a drink and then went upstairs to join the rest of his friends.
There he was. Standing there.
I said a brief hello and continued to speak to the person I had come there for.
We pretty much ignored each other. And then towards the end if the evening. I walked up to him and asked him why he was being so cold in the emails.
After lots of poking and prodding to get him to speak to me. He finally said that he doesn’t feel anything for, me and that he never did, he said that he remembered nothing from the night we last saw each other, he told me all he really wanted to do was have sex with me. He said he meant some of the things in the email he sent.
He tore the entire apology apart. He shredded it.
As you can imagine I had a meltdown, it appears that shell was no longer there to protect me. It had gone elsewhere to guard some other heart.
I wanted to stop the flood gates but it was too late. Far too late. The waterfalls began, uncontrollable emotion. He didn’t flinch. He then asked if I could get out of his way so he could leave.
I gave him way, but my heart wasn’t satisfied. We wanted something more. A warmer response I suppose.
I found myself semi-running down the road to squeeze in one more sentence.
One more question. One more answer ticked off the list.
I caught up and just as I got to him, Caitie and some friends approached, we started saying something to each other. I needed to get some things from her bag and vice-versa. Just as Caitie and the crew left. He ran.
No; sprinted up the road. And around some or other corner. Cape Town streets turned into a maze. Him the mouse.
This is the part I’m least proud of. I took my heels off and tried finding him. Can you imagine the madness of that reality?
The sheer desperation in that decision. It gives me chills.
I found myself doing that. I scared myself. I wanted to laugh but I couldn’t.
I found Caitie in her car and jumped in. I don’t know why I did that. Like being in that car was going to restrain me. A straightjacket of sorts.
At the next junction. I asked her to stop and got out. I guess this must have been the emotional equivalent of escaping from the mental institution? I don’t know.
I somehow thought I was going to find him. Honestly.
My brain stepped in and lead me straight to where I had left my friends before I headed to Waiting Room.
I got there, shaken, shocked and surprisingly silent.
I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted to do was make sense of it all in my mind.
What had just happened?
People get labeled all kinds of things all the time. They get these labels because of all kinds of reasons. But before we do that the people who contributed to get them there (each and every one of us) should think twice about it.
To *Frank I’m that Psycho Bitch that chased him down the road in Cape Town, heels in hand. But there are some events that lead to that moment in time. It is not an unrelated incident. I was pushed to that point. I didn’t chase an absolute stranger down the road.
I eventually spoke to my friends about what he had said to me. I am so sad that I invested so much time and energy into *Frank.
I’m still quite fragile about it all. I had a couple good cries last night and today.
I’m picking up the pieces. Slowly but eventually I will be all good again and ready to give of myself as I have.
>> And to my Love Guru, I know you are going to catch wind of this situation and you did tell me so. I should have listened but I didn’t. I got burnt and will learn not to trust *Frank. But I’m not sure this has taught me a lesson about men in general.
