I watch, I don't play...

What did I do to deserve this? Someone I used to date (let's call him 'The Designer') popped back into my life. We've always kind of kept up contact because although he kind of got on my nerves for different reasons, we still got on and I liked him - for some strange and unapparent reason. Since I got back from my travels we've been trying to organise a night out together to catch up. He's canceled on me 3 times and I canceled the last one because I was suffering from a horrific cold. But he still kept trying to make new appointments we could keep, so I figured he actually wanted to see me. I'd never make new arrangements, I'd always leave it up to him because of HIS hectic schedule (although things for some reason became truly busy since I came back - I've never been home late so often and mainly weekdays!).

So today, while going through the tedious task of data entry (highlight, copy, move, paste, recode, highlight, copy...), I got a phone call from Designer. I put on my 'pleasant' greeting voice because I didn't want to sound like I was suffering from the reminents of a cold. Oh how foolish I was. He basically tried to use my good humour to harangue me into a football game. He basically used my 'love' of football to get me to take part in his company's grouping exercise. I knew it would come back to bite me in the ass one day.

One of the girls basically dropped out and they needed someone to fill in for her, and as he was going through his phone book to find someone else, he remembered that he was 'meeting' me this weekend, so why not join them? I was not a happy bunny. I told him that although I support a football team, it does not mean that I like playing the game. I told him I hated playing since I was a kid when my crush put me as a goalie and I let every goal in because I basically froze in my place for the entire game. That was not helpful. I don't think he took it on board because he began to ply me shamelessly with compliments that didn't necessarily make me feel any better (they worked like a regular Arab mother, guilting me into it), and I basically gave in.

So tomorrow, I will have to wake up early, which means I cannot stay out late to enjoy some birthday drinks. I will be running around in what I hope is a strong sports bra. I will be making a complete fool of myself in front of a guy who I normally look calm and collected in front of - even though I have a sneaky feeling he tries to be goofy in hopes that it'll rub off on me. I am not looking forward tomorrow. I just hope there are proper and private showers for after the game to allow me to revert to my regular self, or at least look presentable for when I get away afterwards...

The list keeps getting bigger...

I've done yet another stupid thing, the list just doesn't seem to end.

Friday I was having a wonderful time dancing round to music I really couldn't pick a beat to - Drum'n'bass. I was chatting to people I hadn't seen in months, and basically having a good time. I felt pretty, flighty and flirty. For most of the evening there had been something I'd wanted to say to one person in particular, and for some reason I felt that this was the night that I'd allow myself to be a little more flirtatious.

He has been, for a long time, someone who I found very attractive. Softly spoken, sweet, funny, witty and very good looking in a Gerard Butler way (so maybe we'll call him GBL? Gerard Butler Lookalike). Since the time I first knicked his chip, or even earlier than that (three years ago? Maybe earlier?) I've always had a soft spot for him. I'd sneakily ask for a hug, or just try to make him laugh (I don't know why he always had such a bright smile). Whenever I was around his friends, I'd always find myself asking after him. When he'd allow his hair to grow a little, I'd always found that it softened him and made him look so good. And those green eyes, so serene, quite peaceful really. What always got me a little worried was his ability to keep me talking. Sure it doesn't take much for me to get talking, but he was always the type to keep very quiet and allow people to talk. When we'd met up one evening for him to help me out with my research, we'd stayed for a couple of drinks and I found myself gabbing on about things that I didn't tell most people, and I couldn't believe it. Yes, you could say I've been fond of him for some time.

So Friday, in between dances and moving between floors I found myself keeping an eye out to see what his dance moves were like. He wasn't that bad, but very 'white man kinda has skills'. It was drum and bass, what could I expect? In between tunes and shifting of floors, we'd catch each other and tease one another. It wasn't until we were getting refreshments that I turned to him and said, "You're looking good out there, and may I add, in general." He gave a nod, slight smile and replied, "Why thank you, and so are you." The dancing continued, but I was getting quite tired and asked if I was taking people home. I ordered my cab and decided to give my ear drums a rest and sat on the couches in the lobby. GBL found me as he walked up the stairs and took up my invite (the whole tapping the spot next to me on the couch). We chatted for a bit until I got a call which I took outside. When I came back, I snuggled next to him and continued talking.

I then quietly said that there was something that I'd wanted to tell him, then changed my mind and said I couldn't. His arm came round me and he said in his sexy, deep, soft spoken voice, "Of course you can tell me." Now for most of the night I'd been rehearsing in my head a ditzy, cute but flirtatious line I thought I could get away with - because I know I can do that so well (sadly enough). Unfortunately, my head wasn't wired properly and instead I leaned forward, away from him and said "If there weren't complications, I'd fancy him like hell." I then paused, realised what I'd said and thought to hell with it, and said, "No, things are complicated, I fancy you like hell." I let it sink in, continuing to look ahead, until I heard his voice. I turned to him as he agreed with me that things were a little complicated, and he waited until I leaned back a little and was looking straight at him to say, "I feel the same way." I could feel the corners of my mouth twitching slightly into a smile. He then leaned in and added, "I mean, you're stunning." I don't know why, but my face just distorted into a confused look. I never thought he found me attractive in any way. I always found an excuse to touch him, hug him, play with his hair, wrap my arms around his neck, peck his cheek. In his cool laid back manner, I just never got the impression that he may have had the slightest interest in me. And here we were, sitting on a leather couch in a club very quietly telling the other that yes there was an attraction and no, we couldn't do anything about it.

For a few moments we sat there and stared at each other. And for a second I knew that he was thinking the same thing I was "Could we get away with a sneaky kiss?" Oh how I wanted to kiss him, I was so curious. I know we would have slowly leaned into each other, closed our eyes and held our breathe until our lips touched. I know he would have had lovely, soft lips. I know it would have started off gently and slow, and possibly would escalate into a more passionate link. I cupped his right cheek with my hand and brought myself closer, leaning my head slightly. My lips met his cheek and there the rested. I then whispered, "Happy birthday GBL." We looked at each other and quietly smiled.

Our moment didn't last as a couple of his friends, one of whom was involved in our set of 'complications' came to sit with us and say their goodbyes. My cab finally arrived and I went to grab my things. As I said my goodbyes to everyone, I walked to GBL and as I went to give him his usual peck, he wrapped his arms around me. I was slightly taken aback as he always held back and never gave me a proper hug, or from what I could see from the one he was giving me. His arms kept hold of me and as I felt them closing in more, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my face against his. As we pulled away, his arms very slowly came away from my waist, his fingers lingering on my waist, before giving it a cheeky pinch. I giggled and left.

I knew I had just done something very foolish, and there was so much I had wanted to say. I had managed to say that I'd didn't have completely innocent intentions when we met up for my testing, which he said he'd enjoyed. But I wanted to tell him that I had been wanting him for so long. I wanted to kiss him! I wanted him. I messed things up. Now I just added more to it................. but who am I kidding? If I really didn't want it to happen, I would do the sensible thing and avoid it completely.

.....................which may explain why we didn't kiss that night.

Love or lust...?

According to my horoscope I should be careful about confusing lust for love and the other way round, that I should look deep into my feeling to know which I'm truly feeling. I thought I did know. I thought I had it sorted and that I knew which was which, I think I've got it sussed to a certain degree.

On a superficial level, I find him to be sexy, gorgeous, tasty and I just want to rip the clothes of his body and do terrible things to it – lust. On a deeper level, I find him to be wonderful, sweet, charming, funny, kind, old fashioned, considerate and sexy – love? I can't help but watch his pouty lips when he talks, when his green eyes light up, when his cheeks touch his eyes as he smiles or laugh. I can't help but watch his hands as he gestures or rests them somewhere, wondering if they'll ever rest on me. Is it wrong to wish that his arms would find their way around my shoulders instead of the back of his chair to rest on? Is it wrong to wish that I could rest my head on his shoulders or wrap my arms around his neck?

Friday night at Fabric, as he stood there in his t-shirt and jeans, I just couldn't help but feel fat. Looking at his t-shirt stretch over his fit and trim body, how as he raised his arms I got a peak of his trim and solid stomach, how his jeans hung a couple of inches under his navel. Could there be a sexier image? The teasing image of what lies beneath? Knowing that there's more hidden under a flimsy bit of cotton material that could be ripped of or slowly unbuttoned? How I wanted to reach out, allow my fingertips to stroke his hip bones, letting my fingers wrap around his waist, hooking my thumbs in his shirt and slowly lift it up to...

Ok, so that entire paragraph screams lust. So I have the intentions, I have every intention of doing nasty things to this man. I've had every possibility to pull his face to mine and show him just how passionately I feel about him. And yet I just can never bring myself to carry out the act – not even the simple act of gently brushing his face with my hand. Something holds me back. I finally realised what it was, I am not in a rush to push him into it. He is not ready to start something and this time around I realise I'm not to spoil it by being my usual self. I always initiate things, rush in, or doing something truly foolish to make the first move. This time it's different. This time I will wait until he is ready. If I'm not the person for him, at least I'd be able to rest in the knowledge that I didn't push him into something he didn't want or wasn't ready for. He needs time and that's what I'll give him. During that time, I'll sit on my hands, I'll continue to adore him from afar and wonder what it would be like to wear that shirt of his one day...

You know, I don't remember!

I forget what he looks like. I keep forgetting what he looks like and it's a sign that I really like him. That's why I always find a way of getting pictures of those I crush on, because if I really like them, I will forget what they look like.

It sounds absurd, but it's so true.

I know he's 6', with wavy black hair and peircing blue eyes. I know he has a slim nose and very soft, kissable lips. I know just how sharp his gaze is when he looks up at me as he takes a bite out of his sandwich. I know he has a slim build that looks good in just jeans and a t-shirt. I know when he pulls away and smiles, it's only to me, and for his own self-satisfaction. I know when I'm tucking into my danish he watches as I slice it into lady-like mouthfuls. I know his eyes light up when I start talking about comics and graphic novels. I also know his body wants to kick its heels when I say I've seen his work... and actually paid to see it. I know he doubles over when something really tickles him, even when he's walking. I know how solid his slim frame feels when he pulls me close, how my hand fits his perfectly when I take it.

There are moments during the day when something will happen and I'll get a flash of one of his expressions and it all comes flooding back. I sit back and let myself bask in them because I've learnt that if I try too hard, they will never come back to me or they'll be distorted. But I'll hear something or smell his cologne and remember how he makes me smile. Or how I look up and I see a pair of beautiful blue eyes looking back at me. I just don't know how he does it... and I don't know why I let him either...

Damn, I like this one... oh well.

Obssessive Compulsive Distractions...

I realise more and more that I don't necessarily fall in love with men, I just move from one obssession to the next. Something to take up all my energy and concentration, just a huge distraction and really it's killing me. I'm not just lonely, but I realise I'm not here for the right reasons and I really have to start getting my priorities straight. My work is failing and almost non-existant even though I smile and say everything is ok, but the truth is, I haven't done a lot and it's starting to worry me. I'll read a paper, or a book, scan the words on the page and nothing sinks in. I'll look at numbers, figures, graphs, statistics, and none of it will make sense. I realise that I'm slowly sinking away from my work and really it's something that I used to enjoy.

I loved sitting in the library and spreading my work before me on the table as I went through books and journals, articles and chapters of numerous research, works, definitions, findings, experiments, theories, models... I loved it. I loved searching for things and finding some really interesting bits of info and following those leads a little. I was able to generate ideas and hypotheses like mad, my 'thinking journal' constantly open so that I could jot down any ideas within it. I was good!

Now? My brain wanders, unattended and unsupervised, and I don't know when it comes back. I get distracted so easily and over stupid things. But I also thinking about the wrong things...

For now, it's really only one thing that's on my mind... well, one person. He's there, at the back of my mind at different times of the day. I'll walk around London and think "where is he today?" I'll remember something he's said, something he's done, a look he'll have on his face. His hugs, his scent, his grin, the way his eyes light up when he talks... I feel stupid around him, realise that I've done so little in life compared to him and yet I don't know a lot about him. Yet when he grins you just know how much he's seen. I don't need to close my eyes to think of him. He's there the moment I drop my guard.

My sister thinks I'm foolish for liking someone like that. I know it's more than just looks. But I also can't help but think, "what are you waiting for? What's stopping you? I'm right here." I hate games. I hate fuss. I hate when people can't be straight with me. And I'm not patient enough to play hard to get. You either like me or you don't, allow me to move on.

I know why I get obsessive... if I can't figure it out, if I don't have the answer, I need to know what it is. And if I'm truly interested, I'll keep at it until I get what I want. That's my problem. Now to transfer that to my work...