I still haven't "met up" with French Guy. The reason being, as my best friend would put it: Another baptism has been avoided. Translation: I have my periods.

Frustrating. I now have to wait until next week.
Not fun. And I think I upset him by telling him I was too tired and too ill from my European tour to go all the way across London to his place. Which is partly true, seeing I am still coughing my lungs off since a certain snow ball battle in PJ's in Oslo...

I think I got OG upset for the same reason. Which is probably a good thing seeing how stalkerish he's become recently, and how reluctant I feel about starting seeing him, again.




So, instead of hot sex, I spent yesterday afternoon shopping with the only person who I think has ever truly loved me.
The person who used to be my housemate and a great friend, until SHE fell in love with me.

About a year and a half ago, I found myself homeless again. I guess it's a London trend. Eventually, through a friend of a friend of a friend [...], I moved into that house in Hammersmith, where lived P and a couple.
There were all typical geeks from Imperial College, and made me feel somewhat stupid, but a very nice and friendly group nevertheless.
Of course it should have occured to me that P wasn't the typical girly type. But since the girl in the couple was even more masculine, I assumed it was just a trend amoung their group.

P and I got on very well from the start, enjoying going out together, going to the cinema, spending long hours talking about our respective troubled childhood and our dreams. I really thought she was a great girl and enjoyed her company a lot.

So, instead of staying only for a month while looking for my own place, I decided to permanently move in with them. And all was well.

That is, until that particular night, when P and I came back from a cocktails-fuelled night at Favela Chic, in Old Street. It was summer, so we sat in their little garden and shared a smoke before going to bed.
That's when she made her coming out.
I reacted by saying exactly what was on my drunken mind at the time: That she should try not to care about what her catholic family would think, and just embrace her sexuality. That I had loads of gay friends (she had already met a few of them) and that I would really be the last to judge her or treat her differently because of that. And very lamely concluded by saying that there was abslutely nothing to worry about because no one could know in advance what would happen to them, yes, who knew? I could, in ten years, five years, two years, find that I was myself attracted to girls too, and it really wasn't worth worrying about.
Drunken ramblings, I know, but I was trying to be understanding and supportive since she was in tears.

I noticed quite a change in her the following week. She looked much happier, more lively, outgoing. So I thought I did my friend job well, and accompanied her the next week-end to an Imperial student union party.

When after a few pints, she became a bit touchy-feeling, I though I was only being paranoiac. But when a common friend came to me to say P was in corner in tears and was asking to speak to me, my first thought was SHIT.

We both cried a lot that night. Her, because she was in love and being rejected. Me, partly because I had no choice but hurt a friend, partly because she told me things that no one had ever told me and it f*cking hurt to see that someone could have such feelings for me and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

We tried to play the happy friends part for the following weeks, but it just felt plainly wrong and I could sense she was getting more hurt by the minute.
So I moved out, and went back to my sofa surfing.

We still meet up for the occasional coffee or pint, but, even if more than a year on awkwardness has disappeared, we can both sense that the friendship hasn't -and won't- go back to what it was. And I always leave her feeling incredibly sad.
I still can't help but thinking about what a bliss it could have been, being in a relashionship with someone who cares so much about you...