Dickensian times


It was a time of sins, it was the time of truth, a time when we were more in love with our lovers than with our boyfriends, a time of despair transcending to transformation.
It’s been pre-Christmas stressful and anxiety time, when people are hurrying to meet deadlines and leave for the holidays break until next year. Pressure, traditions, agitation and festive gatherings. So was the evening when I met you. The pub was full of people trying to get into the holiday mood but not entirely released from their work duties, but I was. My last day at work came and I freed myself by submitting my resignation at a job that was no longer fulfilling me, going to work became a painful duty and burden and sometimes ended up in tears in the train that was taking me back home. It had started for quite some time but allowed myself time to digest the information my depression was sending to me. I had never had  the luxury to quit a job without really knowing where I was heading myself next. But now, at 38 I did it, just take a break and change my career, allow myself to indulge with a sweet drift and float, explore new horizons and figure out what is it out there that can work for me. Lessons learned, writing down my projects, my intentions, my projections and rediscover lost skills or just turn things for the better. Standing at the bar to order some drinks for my collegues, I caught sight of you, looking at me. Needless to say how many times this happened that night. I was relieved, no stress, but a sort of calm, maybe lowered my guard. When I left the pub you followed me and I accepted to talk to you, to get acquainted and had another drink at the casino where you kissed me and I let myself kissed by you. I didn’t feel anything and seemed in control. We said good night and left home. You  continued to contact me in a haressing manner, insisting in flirting although you had known I was living with someone. I liked my new excitement and accommodated your behaviour. You insisted to meet the next day despite the fact that you knew I was going to the Xmas due with the company I worked for 2 years, my last party with them. You expected me to come even to your place but obviously that didn’t happen. You continued to chase me until I gave you a clue I intented to have sex with you the next day. It was primary desire, passion debut and very painful for me. Guilty pleasures. You took me to a nice gastro-pub where I ate the best steak in UK and couldn’t find myself again, my vibes were low and totally dominated by you. The atmosphere was festive and xmassy with fireplace, New Zealand Sauvignon blanc wine, cannot come to my senses mood. You said you want to see me again but didn’t want me to break up with my boyfriend because of you as you had no plan. That hurt. The passive-agressive time followed, soul struggle, pain, restless and desperated, longing after a sign of you eventually.

I forget (forgive) myself for coming blind into your pathway.

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