Just under two years ago I met a lovely man.  I asked him out and I was quite surprised and excited when he said yes.  We got on really well, we went to the cinema and to a couple of gigs and out for food.  One night when I got a lift home from a friend and our evening was cut a little short, he walked across the city to see me.

On our first evening out he said he didn’t want to have a relationship, which I said was fine, secretly thinking I could get him to come around to one.  We spent more time together, we were essentially in a relationship.  My flatmate needed to move in with his girlfriend, so a room needed to be filled, so in my bloke moved.  And it was mostly lovely, we went on walks in the country side, we watched films and series, he met most of my family, he came to my festival.

But I knew there was something not right and I put off talking about it for months, because I didn’t want to hear what I knew was coming.  But knowing that someone doesn’t feel the same way about you eats away at you, it makes you start to feel less than you are, even if that’s not what the other person means to do.  And there are things that I want –  I want to be a parent, I want to be loved and wanted, not just as a friend.  And that’s not what he can give me, so about 6 weeks ago I finally talked about it with him.  Well, more like I sobbed through it and he hadn’t wanted to say anything either because he does care about me and he didn’t want to upset me.  But living with a lie is worse, I think.

We are still sharing the house and that’s fine.  But some days it’s really hard.  And a week ago we were at my sister’s wedding with the last man who can only love me as a friend and that really knocked me a bit sideways.

So what happens now?  I don’t know.  I’m 33 and back to square one again! So I’m making stuff and watching tv and failing to distract myself.  But I’m thinking about writing again, which I suppose is a good thing.  I’ve not done it for a while.  So perhaps I’m also back here.