The Closest Thing to Love: Part 2

closest

But was it love? I pulled someone else after I made it official on Facebook, and typically, she added me. Thankfully, she didn’t bust me out. So it can’t have been particularly heavy between me and EB, or I’d have turned this other girl down, right?

Well, I’m used to things fucking up before they get anywhere whether I cheat on the girl or not, so I’ve always had the “get it while you can” mentality. It was just a kiss; she didn’t do anything else once she’d added me.

After wanting a girlfriend for so long, the lack of freedom felt like a restriction- even though I was getting sex and affection, and I was still going out with my mates. Typically, I became more attractive once taken. I was also trying to decorate a flat, juggle mental problems, argue with the NHS (who were convinced I was just some belligerent hypochondriac because I spoke well and had caring parents) and sort out all sorts of problems with work, my home, my family and friends.

EB was juggling university herself. She was seeing me when she could, and our time together became a break from our troubles- no matter how stressed I was I could always find peace with her. Foreplay was pleasurably drawn out, there was no paranoia, no erectile issues. Just tranquil sex. Orgasms for her, but not me. But she didn’t seem to mind. She perfected the art of sucking my tip as I tit-fucked her. It was great.

But soon enough, the phone calls became as drawn-out as the sex, only less pleasurable. She started to complain- never about me, but about her course, her lecturers, her job- all things I couldn’t advise her on.

What I wanted to say I didn’t dare: “I’m your boyfriend, not your counsellor. I’m not here to listen to your woes. I’m here to make you feel better. But I can’t do that from the other end of the telephone. I need to be with you.”

If I had have said that, she might have stuck with me a little longer. She ended it a few days later with a “don’t have time” text. I asked her if that was a genuine reason- she told me she still really liked me- it just couldn’t happen.

This was just before Christmas 2010. On 2nd January she invited me out again, and she was very depressed, sat in her local with one of her mates. She described her dickhead tutors and how she hated her job and her course. “Fuck my life,” she mumbled to herself. I’d said everything I could. The three of us called it a night after an hour or so. On my way to the car she kissed me one last time, and I knew we should make something of this when she had more time- if I wasn’t already seeing someone else. (I might have been, as over New Year I’d pulled again and gone home with someone, but I was too fucked up of Southern Comfort and cocaine to do anything other than lick her out. But that’s beside the point.)

Not long after this, EB was listed as in a relationship. I left it a day or so before asking about it, to make it look like I wasn’t checking her Facebook every day still.

She stayed with him for years. She’s probably still with him now. I’ve never met anyone who made me feel like she did. She had no coldness, no assumption that I was only after one thing, no demands and was- as far as I could tell- never disappointed in me. There are so few women like that out there.

But, on the flipside, she had little drive, no athleticism, was a bit dizzy, couldn’t dance (from what I could tell) and couldn’t spell for shit. Those are things I look for, traits to match my own. You need opposites to attract, but you also need a certain level of empathy, a comparable lifestyle and viewpoint.

Since the end of 2010 that’s all I’ve been looking for, and the rare times I’ve had sex has been casual and meaningless- nothing like the warmth and compassion EB provided. The search, as always, continues…

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