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UPDATE POST #3 - Alex and a Change of Heart

Apologies for being absent for so long. The past week has been... crazy, emotional, sleepless... exciting.
I've been writing everything in my notebook - It's been necessary for me to still write about everything even though I have been unable to sit down at a computer and update this blog. So, what follows are my entries and self-analysis from the past week, dated when they were originally written...

Tuesday 23rd March - Alex and a Change of Heart

Alex - I've always been attracted to him. I flirted - a lot. But then I flirt with a lot of guys... I never hinted at a progression beyond that. Yes, I was attracted to him more than any of the other guys at the Club who flirted with me, but I didn't want a progression beyond flirting. Not only because I was so blinded by and focused on D, but also because Alex is a first year at the Club. He's my junior. It's not done.
I'm 22 and a half years old. When I met him last month, he was still 18 - and he's just turned 19.

To date, he is now the youngest guy I've ever kissed.

Yes, I kissed him last night.
I've always liked him - just liked him. How could I not, with his big brown eyes, big kind eyes; so friendly and funny, sweet and genuine, full of charisma and happiness - I'm always smiling when I'm around him.
But he was only a friend... he could only be a friend...
Yes, I was always spending time with him at the Club, because I liked him... as a friend...
I knew he liked me.
But so did a lot of guys.
But I really liked that he liked me.

Last night, was a social dinner with a small group from the Club. I invited Alex.... because I wanted his company. Why did I ask him? Why was I fussing over myself in the mirror? Why was I always making an effort to be around him?
We spent so long talking. I simply love talking to him. There's a smile on my face.
I liked him, yes I LIKE him... but come on, come on... you don't really LIKE him Ophelia... do you?

Later in the night I was ambushed in the toilets by another first year, Mark. He's a really good looking guy, but a complete womaniser. I found him attractive, of course. He kissed me and pushed me up against the wall. I could feel him. He ran his hands through my hair and backed me into a cubicle. I could feel the lust rising and burning in my red blood.
But I pushed him away and told him to stop.
I wasn't going to sleep with a guy who wanted nothing else from me. He saw me as a conquest and nothing more. I know that.

The boy from Liverpool uni was texting me again. He wanted to come to London. He thinks I'm crazy about him. No; I have no intention to ever see him again. Nothing happened or ever existed between us. And it never will.

Alex and I were supposed to leave at 11:30 pm... but I didn't get on a bus home until 4 am. We didn't want the evening of each others company to end.
I don't really know how it all happened - how we both came to some mutual understanding, some mutual feeling. When we left I held his hand all the way as we walked to the bus stop. We were laughing and smiling. Sometimes we stopped and smiled into each others eyes. I knew he wanted to kiss me, so I would look away again. I was still in denial... we're just friends, this is just...
I couldn't do this. I couldn't start something with someone so young.

But the way he held my hand, drew me close, smiling at me from the heart.
I knew why I hadn't run off home on my own. I knew why I'd spent the whole evening so happily in his company and why I was still clinging on to the rest of the night with his hand in mine.
I wanted to kiss him. I couldn't deny what I was feeling, I couldn't tell myself that this was wrong.
The next time we paused and I looked up at him, I held his gaze and didn't shy away. Kissing him felt so right.
Once we sat down at the bus stop, he drew me close to him and wrapped his arms close around my chest giving me the occasional kiss on the hair.

I didn't need any words to know; for the first time in years, I was with a guy who genuinely cared about me. I could have stayed on the bus stop bench, amidst the glowing taxis and buses of floodlit Central London forever. When my bus came, I had to prise myself away and wave goodbye... but I would see him tomorrow.

I am so happy with him.
It makes me feel like a fool for thinking that D was anything. D never made me feel so comfortable or so safe. I could never talk to him for hours or sank into his arms like it was the most natural thing to do.

On paper, Alex shouldn't be the one. D should. But I struggle to think of any guy who has ever made me feel so happy. "HAPPY." I can't think of any other word to use because I've simply never experienced this emotion before! The closest I've come was with James, because I had admired him for so long and when I thought he cared for me it was like a dream come true. Yes guys had made me feel happy and elated before... but Alex... I can't explain it. The way it just all came together, without either of us having to say a word... something just bought us together, some breeze in nature, some subconscious spark...

I've never believed in soul mates... but the way I feel with Alex makes me question if I should. Being with him makes me feel complete - he fills my gaping wounds of unhappiness and makes me forget all the pain and sadness and fear in my life. When I'm with him, I have nothing left to feel but happiness.
But he's so young.
If I were 18, 19, 20 even - or at least still at uni - it might work...
I don't care about his age, but really, we must be worlds apart? Him, a fresher at uni and me, about to venture into the professional world.
Is this another cruel intervention of fate?
The guy who should make me settle and keep me safe I have somehow missed by three and a half years.

The gap's too big.
Surely the gap's too big.


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Love. Sick.

And finally, today, I cried; soaked the tissues and pillowcase like I had been longing to do for weeks. The most I had been able to manage recently had been dry crying with a scrunched up face and aching heart. Such relief now to be able to physically release emotions other than vomit.

What words do I use to write about the last few weeks? Crippling, torturous anxiety, studying for finance exams, exercising and exercising, bingeing and vomiting, seeing Gareth, fucking Gareth, hating Gareth, exercising and exercising, bingeing and vomiting. Overcome by the fear and confusion and heartache. Studying for finance exams, but really just exercising and bingeing and vomiting.

The exams are done now and I have been free from those chains for a week - definitely alleviating a great deal of the pressure from my mental crumbling. I was close to slipping back under into the darkness. The darkness of having complete loss of control, complete loss of everything to the sickness in my brain.
days …


We both knew what we wanted - of that there is absolutely no doubt.
We didn't have to say anything, from the start of the week, right up until the point where I was naked in his bed; we both knew.
About two weeks ago Gareth and a few of our colleagues had arranged to have a night out this Friday. We had a pretty tight knit group of 6 who often lunched together at work, but this was one of the few times we were actually going out together. From Monday Gareth was pestering me like he had before:  "Are you coming out on Friday, are we going out out, are we gonna have a big one..."  "Yes", I had replied, "of course." And I booked my waxing appointment and blowdry for Friday lunch, my mind made up about what I wanted.  I had been thinking what would I regret more; sleeping with him or not sleeping with him. I decided on the latter. I'd not been with anyone since Joe left in January and more than that, thoughts of Gareth were continually running through…