I spent a year in London, which means a year to get myself into the dating live in such a wonderful city to meet wonderful new people. I naturally got myself into a mess, very shortly after I arrived.
I officially lived two different dating lives. I worked hard to keep up, because it’s been fun to just keep running. If each of them only knew.
I knew that the minute I met S I was pulled in. I didn’t need time to get to know him, or get to know us. I couldn’t get him out of my mind. I couldn’t get that first night away from any of my daily thoughts. I felt so venerable. I knew right away he could smell my obsession and I hated wearing it on my face, but I couldn’t do a thing to stop it.
When I meet M I was intrigued. I liked the give and take, the fact that it was so guanine, and simple. But while smiling, it also became boring. Quickly.
So what was I to do? S jumped in and out of my life when most convenient for him. He knew I melted when he got around to calling, he could hear me smiling on the other line. M was more steady, and in general just a more stable person. So why would I let him go? As sick as this sounds I couldn’t let M get away, knowing that I had such a great guy in my life who really wanted all of me as often as he could.
S became almost as frequent as M for sometime. They inconveniently lived just a few blocks away from one another in north London. I walked quickly each morning I left either one of their flats; just terrified I’d see either one. As soon as the train took off, I was safe once again.
When I moved back to the states in April I realized I never regretted what I did. I never looked back and wished I did it differently. I lived in the moment, I lived for fun and for once I lived for me. No one got hurt and both knew I was headed back eventually. Bottom line, I was only in London for a year and I just wanted to live.
