Everyone told me to wear a pencil skirt. No one rocks a pencil skirt like I do, I’ve got killer curves. He knows I’m going to wear blue suede shoes but when I put them on I realise I wore the same outfit when I met the Dutchman and I don’t want bad relationship karma spoiling my night, so I choose a blue dress I bought for my birthday last year and blow dust of my Choo’s. He’ll know it’s me me because blue is our favourite colour.
I look at myself in the mirror. WoW! How can this be? I am looking good, I am anxiety free and I am excited? Sharon waits in the car downstairs.
It comes down to trust I suppose. I trust my friend and I trust my family when they encourage me to do something different. I also have trust in myself that after the last dating disaster that I am stronger than I know and I will be ok no matter what happens.
I had been super brave. I had taken a strangers telephone number, called them and asked them out. I had followed up the next week with another call – both calls had gone really well, we had a good initial chemistry and we really did have things in common. My friends were excited, my family all wait in anticipation, maybe this time will be the last time.
At six am I send a message – Good Morning, I hope you have a great day, see you later. He messaged back that he cannot wait to meet me. He messages me back twenty two times and calls me twice throughout the day. He calls at lunchtime and at six pm. He confirms the time and once again he tells me he’s looking forward to meeting me.
An hour later, seven pm, I glance down at a pack of sedatives. I feel surprisingly calm. I think of the two previous dates I have been on this year and wonder if lightening can strike thrice? With a strange confidence i walk out without them
An hour later, eight pm, he texts to say he’d be ‘seriously late’. The table was booked for seven thirty. I’m twitching. I cross and recross my legs, I try not to fidget with my phone. I can feel the terror rising up my neck, I can feel the heat, feel the hot, spiking prickles of the treacherous tears that threaten to spill out and ruin my make up. The breath is caught in my lungs. I drink wine to keep myself together.
At eight thirty his calls go to voicemail.
At nine pm the whole restaurant knows and I am moved to the bar. My eyes are red from crying in the toilets, I can’t breathe and I am so distressed that I cannot leave the restaurant. All I can do is focus on my breathing. I try so hard to keep my shit together. I am an adult, I can do this. I order the meal I came for ‘keep it together, you are stronger than you know’ I tell myself but all I want are my sedatives because I know what is coming.
Soon my brain is mush. I cannot breathe, I cannot cope, I need someone to come get me and for the first time in a long time I wonder what is the point of living at all?
Sharon arrives. She is sorry for setting it all up but it is not her fault. I cry in the car. I cry in bed. I cry and cry and cry and cry. Is this the end?
At two am I am not sure why I am here, what is the point in having such a shitty existence? I understand that to a normal thinker this sounds absurd and melodramatic, however, when everyday presents a problem, when you feel so isolated and far away from normality, when disappointment, heartache and depression is your norm and life is lonely, fragmented and boring; when your life is all of these things and rarely is it anything you ever dreamed or expected then really, what is the point?
I woke up singing Lost Stars, I’ve been waking up with it for about a week
God, tell us the reason youth is wasted on the young
It’s hunting season and the lambs are on the run
Searching for meaning
But are we all lost stars, trying to light up the dark?
I cannot hold it against him. Maybe his anxiety is worse than mine, maybe his past stands in the way of his future or maybe he saw me and realised I wasn’t his cup of tea.
I am not going into work today because I cannot stop crying. I took a sedative, I’ll be ok, I won’t throw myself into the Thames over another bad date or give up on mankind. I will however search for meaning – my life must be worth something, it must have some kind of value to someone, somewhere.
Lost Stars is a beautiful song from Begin Again. It is sung by both Adam Levine and Kiera Knightley in the film because relationships are hard for both men and women.