Sunday, 30 October 2005

Happy Halloween

Walking into work today I spotted a house, Halloween decorated to the hilt. Flashing pumpkins in the window, a door sized banner covering the entrance, garlands of bats and so on. Until this I hadn't really thought of Halloween at all.

When I turned the corner of the block, three almost identical Draculas somewhat comically rolled out of a small car parked there. I guess the Halloween house was preparing for a party. Halloween and London is a somewhat strange juxtaposition, although the city arguably contains more goth than all of the US added up.

Halloween, the hailed annual opportunity for every US High School and College (possibly past this age as well although I couldn't say from personal observation) girl to legitimately dress as a complete 'slut' with no repercussions.

Me? I did don the latex hotpants once upon a time. Now, it reminds me of my gay ex*.

His birthday is near Halloween, and with his love of flamboyant dressing-up (his favourite costume being, in fact, Dracula) allowed us to stage some fantastic Halloween parties while we were going out. The ultimate camp experience, making October a worthwile month.

He was great.

We would spend ages in the bathroom together getting ready to go out, dress in matching outfits (not deliberately but we had a very similar taste in clothes), he would never be scared of making an arse of himself on the dance floor (which of course he didn't since he could actually dance).

He never let food go mouldy in the fridge and was actually not bad in bed either, since you ask.

I met him again recently, and he was exactly the same, on his way to watch the Eurovision with his friends.

Where am I going with this, you ask. Am I just boasting of having managed to net a guy who doesn't actually like girls?

No.

When I was with Gay Ex, it was like coming home. I think that's how you know you really love someone. We knew each other for four days before he came out to me, and in those four days I knew he could be the one. Not in any 'I want a mortgage' way as we were in our early twenties, but in a way where every fibre in my body ached to be near him.

I think he felt the same way. He contacted me constantly, we spent every waking moment together and soon developed the habit of sharing beds as well, platonically. By three months in, it was no longer platonic. My theory is you put two reasonably horny people half naked in bed together for that long, things are bound to happen.

I used to hold him at night. He was often depressed and cried lots, but on good days he was the loveliest man ever. I never had to say what I wanted, he read my mind to an eerie degree. He bought me a copy of the Narnia series for £2 at a car boot sale, one of the nicest gifts anyone has ever bought me.

We kind of decided when we got together to give it two years. When they were up, I left. I was tired of caring so much for someone I knew I didn't have the conscience to stay with for ever. I thought he deserved to love someone the way I loved him.

My heart was breaking constantly for two years, but not to the extent it broke when I wasn't with him anymore. He called me and cried down the phone, begging me to come back. I said no, because I knew we both deserved better.

By better for myself I meant I wanted to meet someone like Gay Ex who wasn't gay.

This is where J comes into the picture.

He cries less, and has less toiletries, but for all intents and purposes they are very similar people. They are even the same star sign. They are equally uncompromising, equally depressed and insecure, equally cleverer than I could ever hope to be.

But now it is about mortgages. There is no two-year limit in my head, or in my heart. Yet I am sometimes thinking the same things; is it selfish of me to stay with someone who doesn't love me just because I want to be with him. He deserves to love someone the way I love him.

Maybe we dress up for each other emotionally a little every day. He acts as if he loves me, but says he doesn't. I act as if he loves me, but I know he doesn't.

And no Halloween party is going to fix that.


*Before you ask, the gay ex knew he was gay from at a very early age (cue: crush on Adam Ant) and is still gay. I was, I guess, his somewhat botched attempt at girls.


We stuck it out for a couple of years, and I loved him in a very heart-breaking way. I really think he loved me back in his own way. I have never come so close to spewing out ill-sounding words like 'soulmate' and the like.

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2 comments:

  1. That was such an interesting post - thanks for sharing. Have you ever seen the movie "Object of My Affection" with Jennifer Aniston? This reminds me of that movie.

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  2. I've not, but I do vaguely remember hearing about it. Then there's Chasing Amy, and of course the one with Madonna and Everett. I don't think my situation was unique. Glad you liked it! I would read your blog but it's not listed?

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Thanks for not just lurking..

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