GAME OVER
I came, I saw, I failed. And now, after crying myself home along the frosty, cobbled streets of this Balkan capital I don't much feel like doing anything. I don't feel like sleeping. I can't stomach any food. I don't even feel like writing. But it beats lying awake in bed thinking about the moment that my fantasy turned into heartbreak.
My friend T had warned me before that there was very little chance of the reality of L - or rather the image of L that had distilled in my brain over the years - matching my fantasy. She was wrong. L is as beautiful, as graceful, as decent and passionate as a I remembered her. Seeing her again merely brought these feelings back to the fore, even stronger than they once were. So reality did live up to my fantasy in that sense - the trouble is the reality of me didn't match up to hers.
As we walked home after a night out with the local community I asked her what she felt. In her inimitable style, she simply said that she was glad I came; that yes, it had been intense, but that now at least we could move on in our lives.
Her words were expected, but not the ones I'd hoped for. In a way, I kind of would have preferred her to have pinpointed my failings, or the things I said, or the things I did, which convinced her that I wasn't the one for her. But either because it was too hard for her or - let's be charitable - to spare my feelings, she didn't.
Could I have done things differently? I don't think so. I am, after all, me, and even with all the effort in the world it seems clear that whatever it was that made her break up with me all those years ago, it was still there today. True, what with her having a boyfriend and my having just two days to prove myself, it was always going to be an uphill struggle. But I guess I let my faith, my fantasy, my overwhelming desire to meet "the one" become detached from probability.
I told her that she was was gorgeous; she was a great person; she had a good heart; and that she has all the qualities that I would look for in a girl. Just seems that when measured against the qualities she was looking for, I was left wanting.
"Take care," I said to her as I handed her her father's umbrella outside her apartment. I kissed her lightly on the cheek and embraced her. A single tear rolled down my cheek from my left eye. I'm glad she saw it. I took her cold hand in mine. And I kissed her again. She went to hug me, but I had only gone in for the kiss. I walked away and the lachrymose torrent began.
Up until now, about 45 minutes later, I've managed to control myself. But I know that as soon as I go upstairs, I'll lose it. Right now I want to be back in London; I want to dig a hole, climb into it and wallow in my own-self pity until my new job starts in the New Year.
Am I glad I came because now I know we're not meant to be? Not really. no. I feel heartbroken. I feel crushed. I feel sick to my stomach. Right now I would rather be anywhere but in this three-star hotel in this heart-breaking city in the loneliest hour of my life.
I came, I saw, I failed. And now, after crying myself home along the frosty, cobbled streets of this Balkan capital I don't much feel like doing anything. I don't feel like sleeping. I can't stomach any food. I don't even feel like writing. But it beats lying awake in bed thinking about the moment that my fantasy turned into heartbreak.
My friend T had warned me before that there was very little chance of the reality of L - or rather the image of L that had distilled in my brain over the years - matching my fantasy. She was wrong. L is as beautiful, as graceful, as decent and passionate as a I remembered her. Seeing her again merely brought these feelings back to the fore, even stronger than they once were. So reality did live up to my fantasy in that sense - the trouble is the reality of me didn't match up to hers.
As we walked home after a night out with the local community I asked her what she felt. In her inimitable style, she simply said that she was glad I came; that yes, it had been intense, but that now at least we could move on in our lives.
Her words were expected, but not the ones I'd hoped for. In a way, I kind of would have preferred her to have pinpointed my failings, or the things I said, or the things I did, which convinced her that I wasn't the one for her. But either because it was too hard for her or - let's be charitable - to spare my feelings, she didn't.
Could I have done things differently? I don't think so. I am, after all, me, and even with all the effort in the world it seems clear that whatever it was that made her break up with me all those years ago, it was still there today. True, what with her having a boyfriend and my having just two days to prove myself, it was always going to be an uphill struggle. But I guess I let my faith, my fantasy, my overwhelming desire to meet "the one" become detached from probability.
I told her that she was was gorgeous; she was a great person; she had a good heart; and that she has all the qualities that I would look for in a girl. Just seems that when measured against the qualities she was looking for, I was left wanting.
"Take care," I said to her as I handed her her father's umbrella outside her apartment. I kissed her lightly on the cheek and embraced her. A single tear rolled down my cheek from my left eye. I'm glad she saw it. I took her cold hand in mine. And I kissed her again. She went to hug me, but I had only gone in for the kiss. I walked away and the lachrymose torrent began.
Up until now, about 45 minutes later, I've managed to control myself. But I know that as soon as I go upstairs, I'll lose it. Right now I want to be back in London; I want to dig a hole, climb into it and wallow in my own-self pity until my new job starts in the New Year.
Am I glad I came because now I know we're not meant to be? Not really. no. I feel heartbroken. I feel crushed. I feel sick to my stomach. Right now I would rather be anywhere but in this three-star hotel in this heart-breaking city in the loneliest hour of my life.
Labels: Balkans, heartbreak, love, the one
posted by David Cohen at 10:02 pm
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