Tuesday, 28 October 2014

So, Friday

I'm just going to put this bluntly at the very beginning of this post instead of leaving it to the end as I usually do:

I like LB.

Hands up who had already realised this before I had?

Image via

So, Friday.

PIC and I went out one last time as she was leaving early on Saturday morning when I went to work (cue me turning up to work slightly drunk and somehow getting away with it). We'd decided to go out just before midnight so hurried to put on clothes that weren't pyjamas and vaguely make our hair look halfway decent before leaving.

When we got to da club - the same da club as on Wednesday - we went straight to the bar and got a few drinks. We were nowhere near drunk enough for da club and, as it turned out, nowhere near drunk enough to witness what we did.

Having been in da club for approximately an hour and having spotted LB a few times on the dancefloor, we went to get another drink. LB had made no forms of acknowledging my presence there but I was positive he had seen me. And then, as we were walking away from the bar, I saw him kissing another girl.

That's it.

Just kissing another girl (one who was very much shorter than him, I may add. It looked ridiculous).

And I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I genuinely stumbled back and could not bring myself to look away. It was one of the worst feelings I have ever experienced.

I told PIC what I'd seen and we quickly left to go home. I was trying so hard to keep it together. So, so hard. I am not one for crying unless I am drunk and I can assure you, I was not drunk at this point. But I couldn't help a few tears rolling down my face as we walked down the street. Public crying, again, is not my thing.

I texted my flatmate to tell her what had happened and why we were coming home early just to prepare her for the wailing mess that she would undoubtedly be confronted with. And wailing mess I was. As soon as we got in the door, I collapsed on the floor in the hall and started properly bawling. My flatmate came out of her room in a duvet and sat on the floor next to me and hugged me as did PIC. Then my flatmate started crying about something to do with a boy just as my other flatmate came rushing through the front door and into the bathroom and started throwing up. If you think about it, we are the perfect flatmates.

Once we'd calmed down a bit - and put Flatmate Number 2 into bed with a bin - we all cosied up in my room. I had a quadruple vodka cranberry and Flatmate Number 1's man thing was round singing happy birthday to me as he put a cymbal on her head and played it in time. It was wonderful. And also the cause for the 3 hours sleep we eventually had before having to get up for work/trains.

But after the aforementioned vodka cranberry, I decided it was a bloody marvellous idea to text LB and tell him precisely what I was thinking. For once, I managed to write something eloquent yet short and to the point. It went:

'Fuck you.'

Thank you, thank you, I am a lyrical genius.

He texted back right away claiming confusion. I replied that he knew I was there so what the dick was he doing kissing someone else? In so many words. He replied to say that no, it was not his best decision and was in a way, quite glad that I had seen and had this reaction. I was very confused. Pleased that I was acting like a jealous fuck? I asked him as much and he said yes, yes that was it because otherwise he didn't know how I really felt.

If all of that looked incredibly bumblefuckish and confusing then you are experiencing just what I felt at that current moment in time. I told him as much and asked him if he wanted me to spell out how I felt. He agreed and, with as much eloquence and aloofness as before, I told him that; 'I want you to like me. That's it.'

I now realise that I should have phrased it better because his reply in the morning of; 'Sorry, I do like you. And now I feel like a cunt x' confused me even further.

Like? Like me? Or like like me?

Words are the worst.

To cut an even longer story slightly shorter, we are now pretty much back to where we were before all this. Except he knows I like him and I am none the wiser about his feelings. Which is a bit shit and frustrating to be honest. I like things to be spelled out for me. This is a bloody cryptic crossword if ever there was one. Why are there cryptic crosswords anyway? What's the point in them? How do they even work? Who even writes them?

I know that it is nicer and easier to convince myself of the romance underlying these texts - even if it arises from reading between the lines and using my imagination to an extent of which I am not proud. It is easier to see things in the daylight where the shiner parts are illuminated and the darker truth is hidden away. But one cannot help but think, as darkness closes in, that once the magic of midnight and moonlight has faded, there is left only blackness. This blackness is the truth that you do not want to face. It is the horrible feeling that truth brings that you ignore time and time again because you want the stars back and you want the daylight. And you try and convince yourself that if you wish hard enough, the darkness of truth will disappear and be transformed into the light that you so desperately wanted.

Does that make sense? Does anyone know what I am talking about? Because that is what's going round my overtired mind at the moment. I know it sounds pretentious but I cannot for the life of me think of a way to describe the feeling using normal words.

Does anyone know what I should do? What do you think of this? Does he like like me? Or does he think I am a complete idiot?

Men are a nightmare. A bloody nightmare.


  1. Sounds to me like he likes you and wasn't sure about your feelings towards him. You spelled it out for him so ask him to return the favour and let you know precisely how he feels!

    1. Does it? Does it really, truly, honestly? Because to look at his texts from the other day, he gives not one flying fuck about me. Good lord men are so confusing. But thank you so very much for saying this. I did think I was going insane.