Last New Years Eve I was hypnotised. I was sceptical but my best friends (The Blonde One and Dynasty) wanted amusing and hell, I may not have been the best friend to them so the least I can do is humiliate myself from time to time for their amusement. Trust me, they're worth it. For those of you who read this blog regularly (*snogs your face*) you'll know this NYE's hypnosis filled me with confidence. Confidence enough to risk it all and move to Manchester. It may not have been all smooth sailing (step forward The Boy with your emotional constipation and well, we won't talk about money, it's vile) but it has been one hell of a ride that has finally lead me on a path that I want to be walking upon.
So where, a year on, is my confidence now? Well actually, it's pretty high. Is it still riding high due to that funny, reggae signing hypnotised? I doubt it highly; my feelings for an emotionally unavailable dream of a man killed that long ago. Around my birthday actually, which was delightful (And where are The Boy and I now? Almost exactly where we were at that first post where I realised I had turned into a Smiths video. Him unable to commit; me unable to quite let him go. Yes, we tried becoming just friends, his conscience and feelings for me didn't allow him to hurt me any longer, however, he missed me (I melted when I saw those words. Naturally) and I was unable to say "piss off until you can commit you bloody emotionally stunted beautiful man". I'm still convinced that statement would have gone down swimmingly. Missed opportunity or what! Ahem).
So why then am I feeling so confident? Work is wonderful, yes, but that's not quite it. For I still have a degree worth to learn there.
No. Quite simply, I've met someone so to speak. To be completely honest I haven't met them. Only online. You've Got Mail, (IMBD the film if you find yourself lost at the reference) if you will *hides behind hands and plunges face into pillow Meg Ryan style*. I know. I know. You can stop rolling your eyes at me. I've already rolled them a million times. Yes, this person could a serial killer from Milwaukee but who is to say they're not Tom Hanks? My Joe Fox? (see You've Got Mail to understand!) Oh, hush your noise. He's not even from Milwaukee.
It matters not, we cannot be together. I own a small bookshop Around The Corner and he owns big nasty Fox Books that is going to put me out of business. No, wait? That *is* You've Got Mail staring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks. I'm not Kathleen Kelly? He's not Joe Fox? Shucks. That's that out of the window then.
The real details are not important, nor is the guy. Not to you. Whether it's a country, a job, religion, a fetish for bondage that is keeping us apart, we are not together and that is the way it is. The end. However, I wanted to thank him. I wanted to thank him for helping me more than he can ever realise. Because of my subconscious need to be complicated and my lack of all things verging on mushy and romantic I have not (or possibly not *let* myself) click with more than three or four men in my lifetime. I know that seems surprisingly few for someone who didn't marry their childhood sweetheart at 16, but there you have it. I'm a cold hearted cow. There, you were all thinking it. Perhaps this is why I have been holding onto The Boy for such a long time. Yes, he is and always will be one of the, if not THE nicest, most generous, just all round wonderful human beings I have ever met (and man alive the boy can kiss...ahem) but possibly my ridiculous thought that he was the ONLY boy that could ever make my stomach flip more vigorously than The Cirque du Soleil was a stubborn, idiotic thought that has lead me nowhere.
As I've stated and as The Boy affectionately tells me often; I'm odd. I've always known this and it's something that bothers me not, however, I've always thought that finding a man that didn't mind this would be perfect. I was wrong. I've been so wrong.
This other boy; my online boy; my Joe Fox; this witty, talented, kind, sweet boy has made me realise that this is all wrong. I *have* been settling. I have not been giving myself enough credit. But that is going to change. This boy likes me not in spite of my Kermit the Frog impressions or 1066 geek out moments but *because* of them. He does not roll his eyes at my little musings and oddities, he lets them warm his heart. He finds them adorable.
My thought that The Blonde One and Dynasty would be my soul mates and a boy would just be someone to have fun with and to help fill my house with laughter is wrong. I will always love The Blonde One and Dynasty more than I can possibly express but now I want more than just a boy to have fun with. More than someone who will put up with my need to perform every Les Misérable song at one point over the year. More than someone who tolerates my frequent Eastern European accent or my slow motion chicken dance. I want someone who will fall in love with me just the tiniest bit more every time I get the giggles at some immature fart joke. Or sing out of tune in the shower. Who will not accept that wooly festive pyjamas are my thing and put up with them with the hope I'll don the sexy corset the next night but will see me on my sofa wearing those festive bad boys and get a big giant beautiful erection.
My Joe Fox has made me realise that not only will I find someone who will not just be settling for me but I will find someone who will wake up next to me every day and think its Christmas bloody day because they get to have my peachy bum all to themselves. Thank you, Joe. Thank you for finally helping me see something that The Blonde One, Dynasty, my mum and who ever else have been trying to convince me of for well over a decade. Thank you for the stomach flips, the tingles, the smiles, the glow, thank you, for allowing me to be me. I may not be able to have you (*sobs uncontrollably whilst rocking back and forth* dramatic, what?) but I will no longer settle for anyone less than imperfect. Anyone less than you.
And you, my dear readers, shouldn't either! Don't settle for someone who is settling for you. Don't settle for someone who "puts up" with your imperfections. Give yourself to that person who adores you for them. Who couldn't imagine or love you without them.
Now, if I could just book Joe Fox out for a wee ego trip the next time I have a job interview, that would be wonderful. Thanks. You take card, right?
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