June 19, 2012 § 107 Comments
From yesterday’s Times:-
Frankly, it doesn’t make a jot of difference if one is proactive about finding someone, or entirely inactive. I have been like a hamster on a wheel, all spin and hope, and that has got me nowhere. So I have given up, defeated and fed up. I have “let go”, but not with any ulterior motive, even though everyone has been telling me to “let go” for years in the bullshit belief that only then will “it” happen. I tell them they are full of nonsense. And I am right. Active or dormant, a plankton remains … a plankton…remains a plankton.
Some years ago, a wonderful man I met asked me for my telephone number then never rang. The timing was wrong, according to kindly friends. I saw him again the other day. He was every bit as lovely as I remembered: warm, funny, clever, emotionally intelligent. He was the complete opposite to emotionally constipated Long Shot and uptight, rather humourless (if beautiful) Surprise Twinkle. LS did most of the talking when he took me on a “date” and asked not one question. ST sat back and allowed me to make him laugh for three hours during our “date”, but didn’t bother to return the compliment. I wasn’t on a date with Telephone Number – we were among friends – but there was a two-way, properly engaging conversation, characterised by generosity of spirit and genuine interest on his part (and I hope mine).
I knew he was going to be at the occasion, but I had disciplined myself beforehand. I had told myself to look my best but to expect nothing more than an enjoyable few hours. I suppressed any thoughts along the lines of, “If there is any justice in the world, my superb patience should pay off and the ‘timing’ should be right this time and he should ask for my number again and actually ring it this time and…?” More than suppressed: deleted.
And I did indeed have a fantastic time. Lots of amiable folk, great craic. The wonderful man was still wonderful, and apparently still single (though I can’t swear to that).
He didn’t ask for my telephone number and nor did he refer to the fact he had ever done so long ago.
And so that is that. No spinning or ringing on my part. Nothing to be done. End of a shorter-than-short story.
So it is I am sitting here with a total absence of even the remotest twinkle. There doesn’t seem to be one in a gazillion galaxies. And I have therefore had to pull my Don’t Care hat so firmly on my head that only a goddamn hurricane could dislodge it now.