Letting go of my space…

Saturday 5th April

It seems that for once I am the only person in my life who is not embroiled in some kind of romantic drama. Everyone else, regardless of their good intentions or hopes, has found themselves in a relationship that is falling apart at the seams.

One of my best friends is searching for a way to save a long-term relationship that may have been dying ever since it became ‘long-term’, another has been crushed by a selfish boy she mistakenly trusted with her heart, my flatmate is on a roller coaster ride with his ‘poca chica loca’ who he refuses to let in but won’t let go, and my brother is struggling with the conflicting demands of groupies and a girlfriend. And me? Well I’ve met a lovely boy with whom I’ve shared a few lovely dates, and all would be hunky dory if I could stop thinking about how it will inevitably all fall apart if I let myself get emotionally involved.

Still, at least for the moment, I feel safe. Safe in the knowledge that he’s still interested. That he’ll call. That we’ll see each other again. That even if he’s not quite sure about me yet, he’ll be back for more.But I don’t want to feel too safe. It’s when you get there, when you really let them in, that it all blows up. Funny thing is, I think we’d all rather blow up than be alone.

Sun 6th April

I took a step towards letting my guard down today. I had no idea until a few weeks ago how much I’d built up a wall. But then when I found myself stuttering through another goodbye, unable to show any real feelings towards the boy, to give away the fact that I might actually like him, I realised that letting another one walk away could be worse than risking my heart again.So I sent a text…a simple text. A casual text. A ‘playing it cool but not too cool’ text. “Thanks for another lovely evening last night. Lets not leave it so long this time”. It took me an hour just to work up the courage to hit send. But I did. And to be completely honest, I had total faith that in a matter of hours, my doubt would be disproved and a reciprocally ‘playing it cool but not too cool’ text would wing its way back to my phone.

I was wrong. Nothing.

How very arrogant of me to assume. Seems there’s more truth in that ridiculous ‘when you assume, you make an ass out of u and me’ phrase than you might think.

Mon 7th April

1.30pmArgh, the curse of myspace. How am I supposed to concentrate on writing a feature about the perfect wedding, when I can see he’s online? When I know he can see I’m online. And still nothing.It’s impossible. Caving in is inevitable. So I choose to end the torture and send one of my signature ‘easy breezy (secretly anything but)’ myspace messages.And guess what? Nothing.

2pm: Still online. Still nothing.

3pm: Nothing

4pm: Absolutely nothing.

5pm: Ok, now I’m angry. What’s his problem?

He’s got pictures of me saved in his phone, we’ve slept in each other’s arms more times than I can remember, he’s sung his head off in my shower, we’ve baked a bloody cake together, for god’s sake. And now, he can’t even respond to a stupid myspace message.

8pm: Oh holy fuck! I may have solved the mystery of why the boy’s not been in touch. Did you know that the mythical computer programme that claims to tell myspace users how many times individuals look at their page does actually work? Do you realise this means that every time I’ve clicked onto the boy’s page to see if he’s been online, or to check if some other floozy’s been messaging him, there’s a possibility he knew? And more importantly, can you believe Carine has only just told me this?

I don’t even want to think about how many times I’ve given away the fact that I’m interested without even realising it. We’re easily taking three figures here. I thought I was playing it so cool and actually there’s every chance the poor boy thinks he has some scary psycho stalker.

I’m telling you, social network sites are the work of the devil. They’ll be the end of us all. And of any chance we might have ever had at a normal relationship.

My name’s Carrie and I’m a myspace-aholic. It’s time to go cold turkey.