Love. That running through the park until we laugh so hard and stop in a magical stare where everything is said through just a look or that laughing so hard that one of us wants to puke. How does a condition that should be full of joy and contentment, that being the gender thing, lead to so much denied love. Where did the years go since I last felt it and was able to return it. I am untouchable. Not because people know about me but because I no longer let them near, and despite everything in life that I am happy with, my love life is passing me by. The film hasn’t been finished and now the actress is showing signs of being a little too old for the part.
I am starting to wonder whether I should continue to embrace the single life and continue to be the eternal spinster or if I’m not quite that lucky with my progress – bachelor. Yuk. May be it’s time I start allowing people in. I’ve been happy enough to show case my skinny jeans and continue to allow my daily eyeliner to get subtly darker and leave it hanging on to my eye lid through the working day rather than popping off to the toilets to look in the mirror and smudge it back a few shades. These are small things compared to finding that someone.
Love, or more relevant, a relationship comes with it’s own niggles just like the single life does. Sharing moments and the give and take. The eventual moving in and putting up with each others habits and tastes in furniture. It almost feels like a chore if it wasn’t for the thought that may be, just may be, if I find the right person these things won’t be a problem. Relationships have their ups and downs and waves of happiness but if it’s the right person, that bond that makes us finish each others sentences (and sometimes each others food) or knowing exactly what the other is thinking or feeling. With all these things, the pluses and minuses of spending my life with someone is the gender thing, really a big deal. Is the big deal just me and everything in my head. A famous therapist author once wrote how we think others perceive us is only down to how we project ourselves to the world.
When I split up with my girl friend after several years of realising that my gender will not be compatible with hers I left any possibility of a relationship with anyone there and then. Sure there have been people since who have shown interest but the few that got close got turned away. It was just too hard to put them through it all over again but then again I didn’t give them the chance to know about it all. I think I just wasn’t ready to. Since then I have become a different person. A new found confidence of being myself and not giving a damn what others think.
Five days on and Good Friday had set in. The weather was dry but non-descript in it’s grey cloud. It gave me no desire to venture from the house and so as the day passed and the evening fell I found myself trying to find my romanticist side. I felt drained of my thoughts of love earlier in the week and so I took to the bath, candles, a string of tiny bright lights and a Hugh Grant-athon of movies awaited.
The problem with the romantic movies is that I fall into them, devoured by their spellbinding nature, sometimes even hypnotic and by the end, with a smile and/or a tear, for that moment when the sparks happen I’m there – in that moment. I’ll even watch the credits move slowly up the screen with my mind flashing back over the last one hundred and twenty or so minutes. Once the credits are gone then it’s either a rush back to reality whooshing from the fantasy that may be the real fairy tales can happen or that I go to bed with happy thoughts.
It wasn’t long before Four Weddings was over and Andie MacDowell had failed to create that moment between the two characters; for me at least. Then Nottinghill was being pinched from my fingers by the DVD player. A film I adore for it’s cultured nature without being too deep, dark or saturated in urban grit. The glances from Bella when she realises there is something between Will and Anna is just one of the many scenes that start the hypnotic state. Then the end, that moment, will she, won’t she stay? Then the climax and I’m there, for both of them. I’m neither wishing I was or want to be either of the characters, well that might be a little lie but not for this moment, it’s just the moment that I want. That moment of spark. When two become one.
This is just therapy in the form of a film. Something to entertain and give us that feel good factor. But it had worked to some extent and by Monday the sun was shining and the weather warm adding that blue sky therapy. I was up before nine and running the streets and heading to a lake. It wasn’t to gather my thoughts but to rest from them. To free my mind a little and just be.
It was quiet except for just a few birds squawking that echoed from the surrounding hills and trees. No public, just me. I may have been alone but I felt at one. It was at least a distraction from the silence of the mental health unit apart from a letter pushing my cancelled appointment to somewhere in the middle of the summer and still no word on what happens next.
Part of me wants to call and ask if the whole referral thing can be chased-up and then part of me is thinking, well what will it give me. What can I achieve by knowing whether I’ll be referred for more therapy of some kind whether talkie or medical somewhere else? Can I not just continue life as I am making my own progress in real life, whether it be in living or love. The problem is life is moving on at a pace and given how the health service can drag it’s heels and waiting lists get ever so much longer chasing-up is something that has to be done to ensure that I’m not another quarter way through my life before they get things moving.
In the mean time the important things can be done. Raising my confidence and may be just letting out a little more of who I am every now and then. When I returned home my neighbour was out finishing washing his car. He kind of looked at me, noticing the three quarter length bottoms and my little ankle socks. ‘Hiya, buddy.’ May be it just didn’t seem right to him to use my name.
Until next time.