Dash Back to London

The view out my window in the morning

In the morning, I struggled to wake up, I was still so exhausted from the night before.  Which was why I only managed to make it to breakfast at 9:20am, 10 minutes before they were due to stop serving.  I ran right into the recently married couple who I had been seeing so much this weekend however, as apparently they had also only just arrived, as we were all struggling to get up this morning.

I thought the spread was a bit meagre (just yoghurt and fruit), but then it turned out that one had to order a hot breakfast.  Although the egg and bacon sandwich looked tempting, I decided to be slightly healthy and get the smoked salmon and eggs.  Filling breakfast, and hopefully would hold me for some time yet.

We got the shuttle back to the airport, although I didn't sleep much this time.  Once there, I said my good-byes to everyone, and then hopped the airport shuttle back into downtown Edinburgh.  Arriving at 1 PM, I was much too late to make the 12:30 pm train, but the 1:30 pm train (an hour earlier than I'd originally booked) now seemed possible.  Yet I was reading that now that it was high-season travel time for going home for Christmas, catching a train without a reserved seat might be a trick, I just had to try my luck.

Yet luck was with me this day, as I managed to find a seat on the train, right next to the window, facing forwards.  I hooked up my laptop, connected to the internet, and got quite a bit of work done, all of the way back to London.  Hurrah!

I also found myself chatting quite a bit with the Tall South African on the trip, and he suggested that I give him a call when I got back to London, and we could go out for drinks.  So when I got back, I did exactly that, and he suggested that I pack for Venice first and then give him a call.

It was funny, as he always talks like a Russian spy under torture whenever The Blonde is in the room with him, so I wasn't surprised when the next message was a text instead of a call.  He suggested that we meet somewhere in the middle for drinks, and so although I was so tired I easily could have skipped the whole thing, I dragged myself out onto the Overground train to go meet him in Clapham Junction at 9 PM.

No surprise, he was late (although I'd done exactly as promised, and texted him right when I was walking out the door, it took him another 20 minutes to leave the house), and so then I found him calling me to say where he was constantly as he rushed to meet me.  He called and told me to meet him at the Marks and Sparks, and I went there, but there was no sign of him.  I was still on the phone with him, and he said he was in the Superdrug across the way, but I kept looking in and not seeing him....until I heard his actual voice directly behind me asking, "Are you sure?"

Bastard!!  I switched off my phone, turned around and tackled him, as he laughed his head off at having tricked me.  I had to admit, it was really funny how a massive 6'5" tall blonde guy had managed to sneak up on me without me noticing.  How did he do that?

He giggled for quite a while at his clever trick, as we went out in search of a place to grab a drink.  The first few places we tried were noisy and crowded, but finally we found an All-Bar-One that was a decent choice, where we could grab a table to sit down and talk.  I bought the drinks, as he'd been talking about how broke he was these days, particularly after needing to buy new tires for his car and cracking a tooth, which was basically going to need a root canal to fix.  Talking to him about his struggles to put away £50 a month in savings, I was somewhat shocked, but then also remembered my days of being 24 and working at my first job, and realising that having a few extra thousand dollars to spend would have also seemed like an impossibility then.

As per usual, the conversation turned to him and The Blonde, as already their relationship is struggling (but who didn't see that one coming?)  Apparently they'd just had a fight before he came out, as she wants to take a job tending bar at a strip club, which he doesn't approve of.  It's been so very interesting talking to him about his experiences with her, and realising how much as much as men like going to strip clubs or being with sexually experienced girls, they don't actually want that girl on their arm to call her his girlfriend.  I teased him a bit about his conflicting desires (a girl who was sexually adventurous in bed, although who hadn't slept with too many people), which brought out more complaints about her surprisingly low sexual appetite.  Which I was somewhat surprised by, but then again, isn't that a classic complaint, that men want it much more than women do?  Although surprising that a girl who seems to have slept with so many people wouldn't actually enjoy sex that much, or want it that frequently.  What a shame, really...

He surprised me however with his real complaint, that he was almost sure she had slept with someone else the night before.  He said, "I slept with her this afternoon, and I almost didn't want to, but once I did....I just KNEW.  There are certain signs which I guess you just learn to read, and that girl has slept with someone else very recently."

I just felt very surprised that given how devoted she had seemed to him only a month ago that she would cheat on him like that, but he seemed quite certain.  Yet as he continued to share more than I really should know about someone else's relationship, I had to admit, the signs were all there.  Fed, at the heart of it, by an almost tragic level of insecurity.  Who would have imagined that a girl so beautiful would feel the need for male approval, from so many sources, so desperately?  At least though I think I did point out one key thing to him:  "No girl will ever say that she wants to be single, or even admit to herself that she wants to be single. Because somehow that seems to mark you as some sort of failure."

Thankfully we didn't spend the entire time talking about his relationship (it can get tedious at times, because he never asks me about my own love life, as he really just has no interest in it).  We talked about jobs and the future and money and finances, and particularly he seemed keen that we would take a trip to New York together in May.  I warned him that I wasn't that keen to introduce him to my family and friends, not because I don't think they would like him, but because it would raise so many questions about him.  Which almost brought the same issue back onto the table that we've already been over a million times before:  Why we're not together ourselves.

And yet, as I panicked about having to introduce him to my family, I realised that the reason we're not together is right there in front of me: He's too young, and he doesn't know how to make someone feel secure in a relationship.  He knows too much, and there's always something better out there.  I couldn't live with that kind of insecurity.

Still, I have one incredible degree of security with him:  We were talking about how it has now been a year since we met, and we are still the best of friends.  As this evening, he left being cuddled up with his girlfriend in a post-coital glow to trek out into the cold to meet me, because he knew it was his last chance to see me before Christmas.  And I didn't even question that, as of course he would do that for me.

Yet, it was with incredible disappointment that I checked my phone and realised I had missed a call from the Young Dutchman this evening.  How I wish I had been able to talk to him tonight.  Somehow, that relationship still remains my most cherished one.

At last, the Tall South African took note of the time, and delivered me back to Clapham Junction station just in time to catch the absolute last train back to Shepherd's Bush.  It was a close one.  And now I had arrived home at midnight, with packing still to be done, needing a shower and wondering why on earth I'd agreed to that second bottle of wine.  Yet, as I soldiered on through my exhaustion, I was so happy I got to see him one last time before the holidays...