Distance

My partner and I have now been apart for 3 weeks. Despite us not considering it a 'serious' relationship: it is in fact a serious relationship.

M and I have been together a little over 3 months. And have been living together for a little longer than that. It's an interesting set up. And an interesting beginning to a relationship.

We we're aquaintances. Knew of each other. Worked in adjacent rooms. But weren't friends. He moves into the house, which we share with C and S, we hang out, we get to know each other and we flirt. Outrageously.

Friends comment on the chemistry. We deny deny deny. And yet a matter of days after moving in I find him in my bed.

And since then I haven't been able to kick the bastard out.

I love him dearly, despite it being such a short time. But sometimes I just need space. My GOD I need space!

There are times I want nothing more than to spend the day wrapped in his arms, ignoring the world around us and praying for no distractions. And then there are those other days. Those other days when I could quite happily push him from a bridge. Not for anything his does mind. Although I'm not saying he's perfect. Just my sheer disgusting stubbornness to be a loner.

And yet, despite these homicidal urges, I miss him. I'd give my soul to have him here.

But despite all of this I don't think I love him. Not really. Not truly. I became infatuated with him after the difficult break up from my previous boyfriend. In fact, that was the same day M moved in. I'm certainly not calling him a rebound. But a relationship of convenience? Sure, why not. Aren't all relationships an unspoken contract of convenience? Security, money, support, a warm bed to go home to, sex. Love. What is love but a distraction from the necessities?

By god I'm in a pessimistic mood.

Wine? Wine.

Lovely.

The Festive Season

Bah, Humbug!!

I am a Scrooge, and I admit it.

I'm sitting in an overly stuffy pub, during an overly warm winter, surrounded by family i'm supposed to love unconditionally. But don't. As I'm sure is the case with all families, I find family events something to approach with apprehension. To cope I turn to the one ally who has stood by me for the last 20 odd years: alcohol. In my hand is the largest glass of wine I could possibly purchase without buying a bottle. And yet, it's not enough.

In the background a hospital drama is paying on a large screen tv. A dull, monotonous soap that is unfathomably able to hold the gaze of everyone in the room. Out of the corner of my eye a woman's life is oozing from the stab wounds littering her body. I can sympathise. I can slowly feel my sanity seeping from my ears.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

I've nothing against Christmas per say. As a Theist I'm all for the celebration of a proposed Deity. But as the eldest of a family of five these past few weeks have only proceeded to illustrate further the extent of which the younger generations view the festive period as nothing more than a time of presents, food and tv.

When asked

"What do you think of when I say Christmas?"

My seven year old brother responds straight away with

"Presents!"

A short while later I hear from behind the sofa

"Um actually mistletoe, holly and Christ."

Well at least we got there in the end.

Welcome to 2012.