Scare

It's not over yet, but at least it's less scary now. A very different future might yet be in store. Wait and see, wait and see.

Dear Doctor

Am I creating an expectation subconsciously? You wanted things slow? Now they lack passion. Do you know what you want? Is it my sinister moustache?

May it's that you didn't know what you wanted from me, because it wasn't me you wanted it from. Logical and rational pairing is different from emotional and sexual want and need.

Maybe I'm a more emotional person. I guess you like the idea of me, more than actual me.

Is some part of you terrified of any kind of commitment? A month in the future is too much, it sets off an avalanche of worry, of babbling protests.

A thousand potential futures flash before my eyes. You think you're remote, you think too much? Welcome to my world!

You seemed much more relaxed when you, well, relaxed.

Possibly it's a sign of desperation on both our parts, but I have not fared well from my two passionate relationships. Are we past passion? Is there a certain age, when we have stopped trusting innately? And everyone is investigated?

Or is there a time for settling?

Letter

I went for my own solo thinking session yesterday, though I did it on foot. My longest ever run - out to the M50 and back. Not quite as far as Trim. :P

Just wanted to write a closing note. I think you're great, and I was always fond of you. I really enjoyed the wee time we had - except maybe for the first part of that first day when I was still a bit hungover. The goodnight kiss was worth it though. I don't think I gave you the courting you deserved, I should've swept you off your feet more - I was far too relaxed about it being friends already.

Anyway, your head is where it is, and I don't begrudge you that, nor do I envy you it. I hope when you get to a more settled place you let me take you out for dinner again, and in the meantime if you need a distraction, or fancy a spin and a swim, just drop me a line. I'm never too far away.

x

Me

I'm not yet 30, so I'm not old yet, but I guess I'm not that young anymore - I've managed to live a few lives already. I've been a pseudo-archaeologist. A classics scholar. A Scout leader. An IT nerd. A cyclist. A writer. A traveller. The different facets of my individuality. And throughout it all there have been my family and friends, constantly helping me to define and refine myself, to explore aspects of my life that would otherwise be left untouched.

Going through the motions

Sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions, filling my days with activities and socialising so that I don't have a chance to stop and think, to realise and confront that loneliness which dwells within.

I've become so argumentative about hypothetical relationships, about possibilities. Pessimistic on behalf of others. I've given up looking, to give myself an excuse? Or once bitten...? Am I self-sabotaging, or just insecure?

I dreamt of my own death last night, falling into the sea, accepting my fate, and whatever comes next... the darkness of oblivion. It was welcome in the dream, like a new adventure, an exploration of the great beyond.

Maybe I just miss the excitement of travelling, everyone is settling down, and dragging me with them. Can I afford a comfortable home life while still getting away? Definitely need to get that promotion. Need to get my head right, make a list and cross it off. A place of own? A space of my own. I can't restrict myself to doing one thing and doing it well, can I do everything, and still do them well?

Post-Diceys

These nights of self-examination never go well. Who am I? A nice guy, nothing more, nothing less. A guy who tries too hard? What do women not see in me? I lack the bottled courage of my companions. Throw the lips, go in for the kill, seal the deal. Fuck that shit.

Fuck. I'm 29, nearly 30, and no idea what life holds. Should that be liberating? I'm adrift. Need to refine the five year plan, have to include love. But you can't plan for that shit. You don't know when it'll start, nor when it'll end. All you can do is let it happen. Lie back as it steamrollers your heart.

Ups and Downs

This year has been nuts. It started so well, waking up in London... actually, we very nearly missed the flight, so maybe not such a hot start. Direct to Kerry for a few days in good company, relaxed, pleasant. My girlfriend was home, we were making a new start together, this year was going to be the establishment of domestic bliss.

That illusion was shattered pretty swiftly, leaving me heartbroken. But with the help of close friends and family, I bounced back over a few weeks. Two months later I felt ready to meet her again, exchange some of the items we'd left in each other's possession. I remember afterwards realising that she harboured more resentment over the break-up than I did.

In the meantime an old friend re-appeared in my life, and it's fantastic to have her about. There were gigs to which to go, friends with whom to eat and drink, spins to be cycled, strangers to befriend. Life rolled on, inevitably. Ireland failed at the Six Nations. My race results were mixed, still missing that outright win. It snowed in March. I got a new housemate. No highlights, no lowlights. Just life, rolling onwards.

Then two of my very best friends got engaged. Delighted for them, our busy schedules prevented a celebration for two weeks. Two other good friends returned from eight months abroad. I won a prestigious trophy, first time I've ever managed such a feat. I meet one of my returned friends in the pub on the Tuesday after Easter, and we caught up, talking about old times and his impending wedding, for which I am best man.

That same day, another close friend, for whom I had been best man last August, suffered a freak event when a blood vessel in his back burst. It clotted around his spine as he headed to the hospital. Gradually his legs went from weak to numb. An ambulance rushed him across the city to emergency surgery. The clot was removed, along with one of his vertebrae. But when he came around, he was paralysed from the chest down. He had movement in his hands and arms, but the doctors weren't sure if he would ever walk again. Time, it would take time. A week, they said.

A week later, nothing had changed. We lost hope, prepared for the worst. His wife was amazingly pragmatic and stable. Ten weeks then, we were told, it could take a long, long time before improvement showed. It was a small bit of hope, not enough really. On top of this, we could not visit due to a flu outbreak in the hospital.

Then another week passed, and he discovered one night he could move his knee slightly. Scarcely believing it, he held off telling anyone until the morning, so that he could be sure of it. Involuntary twitching followed. We were suddenly optimistic. The visiting ban was being lifted too, joy and delight filled us all.

Then this week. His father suffered a minor stroke. And an outbreak of the vomiting bug has closed the hospital to visitors once more. The road to recovery will be a long one, a year to eighteen months, if he ever gets there, but we have to be there for him all the way. No more whiskey.