Christmas is the time of year when I’m most likely to think of Naughty. We first met in the run-up to Xmas, we first made love just after. I go to my parents for Christmas these days, and they now live a stone’s throw away from Naughty’s hometown. Etc. etc.
So it’s been my habit – if something you do once a year can be called a habit – to wish her a happy Christmas, via the Internet. She never replied, I never expected her to. It was just one of those things.
Until this year, when she did reply, asking me not to contact her again.
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There’s a blog I read called “Hyperbole and a Half”.
Mostly, the posts are funnies, with cartoons, and I have on several occasions laughed at them so hard I couldn’t breathe.
The most recent post, tho, wasn’t a funny. It was about depression.
It had quite a lot in it I could relate to.
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Another bloody car crash. Hooray for yet more broken bones and head injuries!
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So.. Darkly’s starting a new job in a week or two. And she’s hoping to move home as a result, if she can find a suitable new place and get somebody to buy the current house. All the usual fun things. There’s one or two other things been going on, which I won’t go into. But she’s been fairly stressed for a while.
Perhaps I should have suspected something when, a few days before I left, after months of thinking that she’d finally come to terms with the fact that we’d never be more than friends, she decided to have another try at “Friends with benefits”.
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For the first time in quite a while, I went abroad last week. Allegedly a business trip, my boss (who I get on well with) and I went to a 3-day conference about a technology we use massively throughout our working days.
If you know anything about serious geeks, you’ll be unsurprised to hear that the most useful parts of the entire event happened in the evening when we’d all gone to one of the many bars in the capital city.
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A bit more than a year ago, Darkly got a puppy. Tragically, it had a congenital disorder and had to be put to sleep after just a few months.
The house felt incredibly empty afterwards, but neither of us thought it would be a good idea to try another puppy. So we went for the easy option: Cats.
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When I was at university, I learned to scuba dive.
If that idea conjures up gin-clear water and schools of fish darting through the brightly-coloured coral, then you’ve forgotten I live in England. And because of the time it takes to get trained, and the academic year, and so on, my first dive trip was to an inland dive site – a deep lake a long ways north. In March.
It snowed.
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Hi.
Long time no see.
It’s not that I haven’t had anything to say – there are posts that I’ve been meaning to write for the last six months. And new ones keep coming along too.
Problem is, I just never seem to get the time. I’m either busy, or so tired from being so busy that I just don’t want to sit and type out a blog post.
But enough’s happened recently that I wanted to get written up, so I’ve written this blog post bit-by-bit in my occasional blips of spare time at work. It may, then, be slightly lacking in coherency and flow.. it’s taken about two weeks to write!
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I stopped reading Naughty’s blog at the same time we stopped talking. It was a good idea – I knew the temptation to respond to what she was writing would eventually be too great. So, as the prayer says, “lead us not into temptation” – it’s easier to avoid being tempted if you just don’t get tempted in the first place.
The only downside came around Xmas last year when I was concerned about her and had no way of finding out if all was well other than getting in touch and asking her. Which I don’t want to be in the habit of doing. So I decided to modify my “Do not read” policy slightly – I occasionally wish her well, such as on her birthday, so I decided I’d take a look at her blog at those times. So a couple of times a year, I could make sure that all was well, and thus leave her alone.
Which seemed a reasonable compromise, until it was her birthday the other day. When I looked at her blog. And was promptly tempted to respond. Which I don’t want to do. But, as so often happens, it’s become like an itch I can’t scratch. So I’ve decided to go with a compromise: I’ll reply here.
Does she still read this thing? I have no idea. I don’t have many readers and I don’t know who most of them are. So she might see it or she might not, I don’t know. But at least it’ll stop bugging me.
Hopefully.
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I normally like winter. I’m typically a living oven, heat doesn’t agree with me. I like the cold. I like the crisp air. I like how appetising hot chocolate and cream teas seem. I like the sparkles of sun on frost and the patterns ice makes on car windows.
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