At the very first second of the very first minute of the very first hour of the very first day that I was conscious of this 2021st year, I read the following words ‘Happy New Year Babes’.
And those four little words created an excitement in me that I just couldn’t contain. So much so, I told everybody who would listen about it…you guys, my lovely readers, my friends, my colleagues. Even my Mum and I don’t tell her anything (because she doesn’t need to know that her daughter is a hoe). And for anybody who doesn’t know the history of FD (Football Dad) then please view nearly all posts published between October and January. I then spent a good 6 weeks obsessing over his uncharacteristic pet name, despite the fact, as it turned out, that that was the end of his investment and effort in our ‘what could have been’ relationship.
And you might be wondering ‘why on earth is she re-hashing this old story? Bringing him up?’ Don’t worry, I can hear you all shouting ‘let it go, love!’
But the reason I am bringing it up is because I went back to football training tonight and as this is how we know each other, he was there. I saw him. Looking all fine in his shorts and t-shirt, flexing his muscly arms and winning smile. And instantly I remember why I crush on him. Damnit!
And of course he was keen to say hello, and crack a joke.
I was not so warm.
I promised myself I would be my usual friendly, chatty self. I wouldn’t let the humiliation affect my interaction with him. But I am not made that way. And truthfully, I was pissed. Pissed at him for showing up looking finer than Adonis himself. Pissed at him for being chatty and friendly like n o t h i n g has ever potentially happened between us. Pissed at him for not helping me with my balls. Pissed at him for smiling and forcing me to chat and hold his eye contact.
And you know what I’m pissed at even more? Myself. For allowing the feelings of frustration and anger to seep in and not be indifferent to the whole thing like I so desperately wanted to be. I’m obviously not over it.
The good news is, I don’t feel the same intense level of crush on him. Yes, I’m attracted to him but I don’t feel like I want to act on it anymore. And added to that I found myself disliking some of the endearing qualities that initially attracted me to him, his ‘loud’ presence and his height. I’ve never ruled out any man because of his height but I’d 100% tower over him in my heels, so I’m latching onto that. And he’s updated his WhatsApp status to ‘Road Man’ and whilst it might be a joke, I 100% deserve better than a god damn road man, Nike kicks, sweat pants and puffer jackets are not what I want to be sat opposite when I’m sharing my hilarious stories over a Malibu and pineapple.
So that’s progress.
Hopefully, all of that will continue to slowly turn me off, and the fact we are in contact again, no matter how small, doesn’t start re-ignite the fire….but if anybody has any tips on turning my pissy feelings into cool indifference then I would love to hear them!
Also…note to self. Don’t tell Mum anything unless you want to hear ‘how’s things going with that guy from football?’ forever!!