Butterfly Park

He called.

It was incredible to hear his voice again, but awkward.

Awkward because I owe him an apology for some mean things I said. He’s one of these guys who, even when you’re unkind, thanks you for picking up the phone. I feel bad about my behaviour and his kindness makes me feel worse.

Also awkward because of the way I feel when I hear his voice.

It does something to me – the ‘Fran’ effect.

So, we’re going for a drink this week. Apparently there’s a lot of things he wants to tell me, but not over the phone. The day is up to me, and I’m too chicken to commit to one. As I don’t think I can focus on anything else until I've done this, I’m thinking maybe tomorrow night.

If he’s married, I don’t think I could take that, and if he’s not married, I don’t think I could take that either. From the second he called my name, I was doomed.

I cyber stalked a little today (after unfriending him a few years back on Facebook) and almost fainted. Standing in the sea in low-riders, water dripping off his torso and his gorgeous dreadlocks.

Am I just another stupid white woman, led by my libido?

And if I am, so what?

I think that’s why, despite the arguments, we did kind of work together. Whilst everyone else had their sights on marriage and babies, I never asked where he went or who he saw. I never expected fidelity and I never queried it.

Part of me wonders if I was the only one who never asked for that and actually got it.

Or maybe I was just as blind as everyone else, but unlike everyone else I just didn’t care.

I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the new D. He looks super cool. It’s the same feeling I had with that model on my arm. I know I shouldn’t put myself down, and I wouldn’t say it out loud because, hey, confidence is sexy, you gotta fake it even when you don’t feel it, but it’s just a bit unnerving when super hot people pay attention to you. Still, I’ll be past it soon enough so I might as well enjoy myself whilst it lasts.

All I learned on the phone is that he lives down near the American Embassy now, has a business renting rooms and doesn’t go out much, which is probably why it’s taken us seven months to bump into each other.

That’s not a bad thing. He’s my worst distraction (Oi, Legend, get out of my head! – and off the airwaves in Africa for two bloody minutes), and I probably wouldn’t have managed to set up my business or do anything constructive had I known he was about then.

We first met when he was working in a recording studio next door to my office. Some mornings I’d arrive before any of my colleagues and the office would be shut. If I forgot my keys (which was fairly regularly) I’d go and sit in the recording studio until they arrived. D would be there on reception, bored off his trolley. He loved crime fiction and the VSO resource library had an entire wall - floor to ceiling - of books. I used to borrow them for him.

Some of my favourite memories are spending days in bed watching movies and sitting on the porch talking all night. I’d like to do that again, mostly because it's a lot cheaper than going out.

Christmas four years ago was the last time I dated someone. I got stranded in a major snow storm and had to bus my way back across Europe from a work thing. Ended up in London for a couple of days where friends introduced me to a friend. We had a very brief (couple of months, less?) fling, mostly because I needed a date for a ball and he wanted to buy my car. I think he liked my car more than he liked me. Anyway, I woke up next to him one night, stared at the ceiling and decided there and then that I was madly in love with my former colleague and wasn’t going to waste my time on anything half-cut again.

Thus I donned a veil and turned into an utter saint for the next few years.

Yes, years.

I know, okay. I know. I don’t need telling. I’m just glad I’m over it.

So, having completely sabotaged myself in one way, you can see why I’m not in such a hurry to sink my own ship another way – which would be D.

I can’t even get my head around the fact it’s December, yet alone Christmas. Already I have this dreamy idea of spending Christmas Day in bed, watching movies and making up for lost time.

Which is why I’m sure I’ll find out he’s married.

The only way to know is to go, but I’m really good at putting things off when I’m scared of a ‘no.’ I’d rather not know and live with the daydream. 

There’s a whole world of problems go with a ‘yes’ too.

Okay, I admit it. I’m useless.

Just beam me to another planet.

He had the courage to call me, I should at least man-up enough to go meet him.

I can always hide under the bed if it gets too much.

Watch this space.... (get popcorn).