Relationships.
They either sink or float. They either take you on the smoothest of journeys; weathering even the roughest of storms or they crash into a fuck off giant iceberg, causing catastrophic consequences that makes you wish you had got an eye test, as that can be the only explanation with regards to how you could have missed such an obvious impending disaster.
With myself and Mr Buff, it had been, from the view behind my rose-tinted glasses, plain sailing. Clear skies as far as my eyes could see. He had told me he loved me; that he missed me and that he saw a future with me. I mean, when it comes to saying the right things, Mr Buff was definitely ticking off the conversation check list.
He had kept in contact every single day, despite our agreement to take a ‘break’ from one another (he messaged first, FYI). We had Whatsapp’d, voice noted, FaceTime’d, Netflix partied – basically, any electronic app that would allow us to feel like we were together, we were downloading and using it.
Therefore, it was safe to say that I was no longer falling but had fallen – despite my attempts to stay firmly away from Lovers Lane and firmly within Bad Bitch Street, I had somehow taken a wrong turn and was walking about with big love hearts in my eyes like the rest of the goons that had taken up residency here.
But I was happy to be a goon. I was happy to have taken the wrong turn and I was simply happy to be happy (yuck, I know). To have moved to Dubai with no expectations and to have made the most amazing friends, have the most amazing lifestyle and met the most amazing fella, I couldn’t quite believe it.
However, especially for Scottish people, a rain cloud is always never too far away. And as we sailed into what I hoped would be the sunset, the tide was slowly beginning to change and a storm was coming.
It had started on the day of my return to Dubai.
Our interactions had been, as previously mentioned, more than promising, I mean, I had already decided it would be a fall wedding…Which was why, as I sat in the airport, when my phone lit up with an incoming call from Mr Buff – who was out on the lash – and with all of our previous conversations when he was drunk being extremely complimentary to myself, I had no hesitation in answering, as who doesn’t enjoy being repeatedly told nice things about themselves? Lather me up in positivity bitch!
But, as soon as I slid my phone open to answer the call, the first grumbles of the storm began. And instead of the ‘everything about you is amazing,’ Dreamboat I thought I was about to embark on (and had previously embarked on in these calls) I found myself setting sail on the Dinghy of Doubt with Mr Buff at the helm. His destination? Relationship-Phobiaville.
You see, as previously mentioned, Mr Buff and I had found one another when we were both still carrying the wounds from previous relationships. Relationships that had crashed, exploded and sunk to the bottom of the sea bed – a place where they (well, definitely mine) needed to stay. And, as a result of such an experience that you only narrowly come out alive from, it can take a while to heal from these wounds; if you ever heal at all that is.
Yet, somehow, we did heal – or so I thought. As in that moment, in that phonecall, I realised that Mr Buff was still in pain.
I hoped it would be an isolated moment, a wound that would close up as quickly as it had opened but, the same thing happened again and again when alcohol was involved. Doubts over whether relationships worked; doubts over the benefits of relationships at all and slowly but surely the storm clouds became more and more and I found myself caught in the middle of it.
And now the wounds that I had worked so hard to close back up myself had re-opened. I mean, it was a complete head fuck. To go from one opposite to the other, it was like going from Princess Diana to Camilla, it just made no logical sense.
However, despite the gathering storm clouds, there was still lots of moments of sunshine. Of blue skies that promised hope. And I was still hopeful that we would survive the storm, that we would make it through the other side. But we would have to weather this storm to get there and I guess, only time would tell.
