Day One hundred and eighty two - Do they know it's christmas?

Before we continue the sad story I've been narrating in these past few posts, I want to focus on something else that happened around that time. This would prove to be the calm before a storm I had no idea was coming my way, and one I'd had a hand in creating, no less. But for now, let me tell you about how me and my son were doing. I've stated how much of a help he was form when I was at my lowest, and how, had it not been for his presence, I would have taken my own life. I also wrote about how much it wounded me not being able to get him something for his birthday and then come for christmas.

But now things were different. Now I had a job, and I was making enough not to worry about those things. And my son, who was fourteen going on fifteen, had started playing a card game in school - Yu-Gi-Oh. He asked if he could start going to some tournaments, and we both created a new ritual between us, one of going to the tournament. I'd sit there and wait for him - though he tried, I just couldn't manage to get myself into the game. But he was happy playing, and learning because he was playing against more skilled players, and his happiness was all I could ask for. 

The previous christmas, though, still lingered in my mind. It still wehighed heavy in my heart. Sure, I could make up for what I had missed out on his birthday an christmas, but a part of me needed to do more than that. I'm not going to lie, my life had turned around for the better. I felt like a real person again, I felt like I was alive again, and no amount of drama could strip from my heart the feeling of gratitude that now swelled in me. I wanted, nay, needed to pay that gratitude forward. So as christmas was approaching, I formulated a plan. I wouldn't be able to do much, but I would be able to so something.

But I didn't want to do it alone. I wanted my son to by my side. And though he was far too young to really understand the reasons behind what I intended to do, and though he was naturally hesitant to join me, he eventually come to accept my request.

On christmas eve, I went shopping. And I bought sliced bread, and sliced cheese, and ham, and made a bunch of sandwiches. I bought juice boxes and chocolate milk, and cookies, and when I got home me and Ian prepared a bunch of meals - the goal was to got out after midnight, and distribute them to the homeless people that lived nearby. I unfortunatley didn't have as much as I would have wanted to, but it was what I could spare. Maybe that small gesture somewhat helped the dozen or so souls we came across that night, maybe it didn't.

As we made our way back home, I felt thankful for how my life was at the moment and for having my son by my side.

Day One hundred and eighty one - Running up that hill

The saga of quite likely the worst - and craziest - person ever to grace  my life continues. For the next few months of our relationship, or should I say 'relationship', we rarely saw each other. It might be even fair to say taht overall we we were only together a handful of times, and every time we were together was not because I had asked her to come visit, it was because she had to come down for a gig and she naturally needed a place she could crash for free afterwards. Me going up to visit her was out of the question - she was, after all, a married woman. 

It's really strange looking back now, but I can't really recall If I ever truly felt anything for her - emotionally speaking. I was fascinated, dazzled, found her incredibly intriguiing and I was in awe of the glamour she had all about her. So maybe that helps explain just how much of a simp for her I was. She had me completely wrapped around her finger, and I was more than willing to do what I could for a scrap of affection.

But I started noticing a pattern - in private she'd tell me things that her online presence as well as her physical presence elsewhere directly contradicted. And whenever I asked her for an explanation, she'd shower me with lies. And boy, is this psycho a liar. And an expert manipulator as well - she knew just how to chastise me, how to offend and belittle me for daring to want the smallest thing from her. There was a long phone call between us where she was so incredibly rude and harsh towards me that I was left in tears - in front of my son, no less. But the good thing about that call is that it initiated a process where I started to dettach from her. I started to drift away from the craziness.

And, sensing that she was about to lose a sure-fire dummy, she started making some entreaties to see if she could keep me around. But it was too late. The damage had been done. The glamour, gone. I had decided to do away with anything and everythig that I deemed to be negative to me. Her included. Oh, but this was wily. This one had her ways. And I would soon find out just to what lengths she was willing to stoop.

By December 2014 we hadn't been together for a while, and she had asked me to give her another chance. I had agreed to meet her so we could have a talk. I ended up not only buying her a christmas gift, but also taking her out for dinner and paying for the bill. But the hell with that, what followed was rank stupidity. We drank some three bottles of wine between us, and by the time we left the dine we were well and truly sauced. She asked me if she could stay withe me, and I said yes. By the time we hit my bed we were already doing it. And that was one of the single most stupid things I've ever done.

Because that opened the door to a lot more craziness. 

Day One hundred and eighty - Mrs. Robinson

What you'll learn moving forward is very telling about me - I have always been, and I don't think I'll ever stop being, incredibly naive, and also very, very gullible. For all the talk we have these days about so-called 'red flags', I am incrredibly inept at spotting them. From this era of my life onwards, and as I continue relating these sad little tales, you'll see exactly just what I mean.

I am very wary about how I approach the continuining tale of this person, because the smallest thing might become some sort of bread crumb that will lead her here. So, things like revealing where she came from, where she lived, what she did... I can't reveal any of that. As I said, this is something that in some specific circles is very well known. Infamous even.

I've already wrote about how we met and how we wanted to kiss - but didn't. We'd be together again soon after that, and on that day alone there were a couple of red flags that should have made me realize just what it was I was getting into. Barely a few minutes into our second meeting, she blatantly lied to me - it's a mess so stupid and absurd that I don't even even put it down in writing. But I just waved it away, thought she might've had a good reason for lying, and didn't spare a thought about it. Another red flag was this one : did she come here just to be with me? Did she bollocks, she came because she had a gig later that night, and she needed somewhere to spend the night without having to pay for an hotel. But there was an even bigger red flag later that night : we were somewhere not very far from where she had to go do her thing, and while we were there she tells me that a friend of hers is coming to meet us. This is the first time I'm hearing this, but sure. So eventually this guy arrives, at once there's a weird thing in the air between them - not just like they had some history between them, more like they were still having some of that history. But stupid me, I let it slide. I found her to be wholly enchanting, and I was under some sort of spell. As the night wore on, and I acoompanied her to do her shtick - staying until it was over, and until she'd packed her stuff. She stayed at my house, and slept in my bed. It wouldn't be just yet that we'd get intimate with one another.

Oh no, that was a little bit later after she dropped the bombshell that she was married. Well, she said she was married to the father of her children, and though they still lived together, the marriage was sham, they were together only to maintain the illusion of an united family to their children. And I believed every single word. I promise you, you can't even begin to imagine the things she told me I believed in.

Day One hundred and seventy nine - Speedway

Not what, per se, but rather a who. And how I managed to survive this lunacy is testament to just how much more resilient I'd become. Had I had the misfortune of this happening when it was at my lowest, I can't even imagine how I would have fared. So, let me see if I can get everything right. I won't name this person - not even by a nickname - because this person is too much of an egotist no to google herself all the time. This means a couple of things : on one hand, we're talking about someone who is fairly well known in certain circles, and on the other, this person has a very peculiar name, almost unique, I would say - and naming her would send all sorts of alarms her way. I don't want to do that, because the last thing I want in my life is to have any further interactions with this person.

Things began fairly early on when I started my training - I was in a facebook music group at the time, and this person in particular always posted great songs. One day I sent her a message -  a very polite one, I might add - and she replied. We kept on talking throughout the following weeks, and eventually this person told me that she'd be doing a DJ set at a club, and told me that she'd leave my name at the door if I wanted to go and meet her. When the day came, I waited until the last possible moment to decide whether or not I was ready to do something like this - to go out into the world of getting to know people. A part of me thought 'eh, what's the worst that could happen?', and that partt of me won. Oh, my sweet summer child. How truly naive you are.

I was working until midnight that day, so in truth all I had to do was get on the subway that would take me near to where she was. 

When I got to the place, I saw a very good looking girl by the door with a cowboy hat - she gave me a quizzical look, I wondered if this was the girl who I only really knew from facebook, I told her I was there to see that person, and she waved me inside. I looked back at her as I went him, she looked at me, and I felt a tinge of regret for not having struck a conversation with her. But I was there for another reason - to be with the singer, and maybe admitting this may be too much already. Maybe I am inviting chaos once again.

But when we met near the dance floor, she was absolutely charming and welcoming, and all thought of cowboy girl had evaporated from my mind. We went and sat on a sofa and started to get to know each other a bit better - and by that I mean precisely just that, nothing physical at all. We spent the whole night together, and in the wee hours of the morning she had to catch a train to go back to where she lived - it was still a ways away. By then, we almost kissed, but we decided it would be better if we waited until the next time.

Day One hundred and seventy eight - No cure for the lonely

Getting that job offer, at that time, was not something that I had seen coming. Far from it, my pessimism made think I'd never work again. But... the offer was made, and though I had to go through another interview with the key account manager - which went really well, I thought - when I got the call that I would be starting my training, which would be about a month of it, I eagerly accepted. Could things be finally turning around for me? It seemed to good to be true - the work itself seemed challenging, but in a pretty good way; it seemed like it would be something very close to stress free; the pay seemed decent enough - and in all honesty, any pay back then would have seemed to me to be pretty decent.

And when I started my training, together with a bunch of people, including the stupid kid I almost throttled in my group interview - funnily enough, we'd get along famously well - I was still very wary of everytyhing. The previous year had all but destroyed me, my confidence had been shattered, my sanity on the threshold - a sure sign that I was far from well was that I sat down in my chair clinging on to my backpack, something that I would find out was the source of much amusement from a couple of the guys who I was doing training with, and who I disliked at once. Funnier still, we all eventuallly got along incredibly well too. 

But it wasn't easy for me, far from it. And because I was flat broke, I had to walk all the way there, and then back home. It was about an hour away from where I lived, and that was me walking at a steady pace. Now me, I like walking a lot, but I have to say that after a few days of doing this I was feeling absolutely exhausted. I had to do something about it. I had to do something I hated having to do - I had to borrow money. My dear friend Ysabel had already volunteered to lend me money should I need it, but I had graciously turned it down. Now I had no option, really. It would not be viable for me to do this for a whole month, so I borowed just enough to buy my bus pass - and that made all the difference.

My first few months at work, after my training got done, and I had moved on to the operation itself, were rather uneventful. I had what I thought was a pretty good schedule - I'd get in at 4 P.M. and work until midnight. It was perfect for me. I'd leave work, get home around 12:30, then I'd be awake until four or five a.m., wake up just around noon, go to the gym, go back home, and leave for work. I was getting better, I was feeling better, life was - dare I say it - good. What then could conspire to derail all this?

Day One hundred and seventy seven - Fall apart

Pretty much the same way 2013 began, and I looked at it with a heart full of love and hope, and it turned out to be the worst year of my life, so too did 2014 begin with my heart full of pain and hopelessness, and by year's end I'd be in a much better place. I couldn't have been able to envision both outcomes in my wildest dreams : the former seemed an impossibility, and the latter an implausibility. Especially because by early 2014 I was feeling myself fading further from sanity.

So, I'd stopped paying my bills by December - and thankfully for me I only had to pay the internet / mobile phone bill. It didn't get disconnected immediately, lucky me, so I may have had a couple of months more of internet. I'd dedicate a couple of hours every day to sending CVs - I had to find a job, sooner rather than later, and I found myself sending hundreds of CVs. Now, bearing in mind I knew exactly how dilapidated my mental health was, I didn't apply for any type of job I knew would send me spiralling even further down. But there seemed to be lots of options available. I went to the same recruitment sites every day, they always had new offers, I sent my CVs.... and soon I started to get some calls for some interviews. Most of them went really well, some did not at all - I had a few where the people interviewing me were so uninterested in me that it seemed like they were doing me a favour. Some I thought went so well that I had all but secured a job offer.

But... no one ever called back. Not a single offer was made. I kept on going to interviews, well into March, and by then I didn't have internet access at all, so I had already stopped sending CVs. I was getting tired - so, so tired - of always saying the same fucking things in them interviews - 'Hi, my name is X and I am X years old', 'I worked here for X amount of time, there for X amount of time, there for X amount of time', 'I am very professional, always on time, and I contribute to a healthy work environment'. God damn, I was tired. So tired, in fact, that I'd started losing hope in ever finding a job again, and so I started looking at this like a game. Every interview I went to, I'd tell a different story. Sometimes I'd say that I'd taken a year off because my fiancée had passed away. Sometimes she had 'died' of cancer, or she'd have 'died' in a car crash. I came up with so many crazy stories - and after all, why not? I wasn't going to be offered a job anyway. 

Then I went to my second to last interview I've had so far - I didn't think it went that well, really, I even felt like throttling this stupid kid that was doing an interview at the same time - it was a group thing.

Then they called me and offered me a job.

Day One hundred and seventy six - I'll fall with your knife

The plan... the plan was for me to spend christmas with my son - our last christmas together, though he'd be oblivious to it. He'd then go back to his mom's house and stay there, because traditionally they spend that time together. Sometimes I spent it with them, sometimes not. In truth, it's a time of year I never cared much for. But the previous new year's eve saw me facing a year that promised so much : I was with a woman I truly and deeply loved and who loved me back, the notion of us living together and then starting a family seemed so real, that I couldn't have imagined how the year that followed really turned out to be. I knew I couldn't survive one such year again - in fact, I didn't intend to.

Christmas 2013 I was in my bleakest state of despair, feeling like a failure, like a complete waste of a human being. It stung bad that I couldn't even afford to give my son the smallest christmas gift, I felt like I'd let him down immensely - though he had asked nothing of me. He just wanted to spend that time with me. And I wanted to spend what was left of my time with him. As we spent those few days together, and as he was getting ready to go back home, he asked me if he could stay with me until the new year. I was left stupefied by what he, in his innocence, had asked. Had he, somehow, imagined that I was about to do the ultimate sacrifice of my self? Could it have crossed his fourteen year old mind that I was unhinged, unhealthy, virtuallye beyond any and all salvation and redemption?

What I can tell you is that that year - and especially after the Sofia story - my son had been my only source of comfort. We were often together, and he saw me at my worst. He saw me cry my days away, he saw me becoming a numb, detached carcass of a thing, he saw me diving deeper into the darkest caves. He was by my side as my soul became increasingly weighed down with pain and misery. And truth be told - had it not been for him, I'd have killed myself sooner. Naturally, the only thing I could do was say yes to him staying with me. His presence, his warmth, his love were all I needed. He was - and is - the one light my existence could cling onto.

So the great plan never came to pass. I put that all away, I concentrated on my time with my son. He needed me just as much as I needed him. Little did I know that the first few months of 2014 would prove to be just as hard - if not indeed harder - than anything I'd experienced up to that point. In my mind, things couldn't possibly get any worse. Well, as it turned out they could. And they did.

Day One hundred and seventy five - Suicide is painless

While it was never an easy decision, deciding to kill myself wasn't that much of a stretch. I was in pain, I was suffering, I didn't want to be alive. I couldn't see anything worthwhile for me in my future; in fact I could not, indeed, see a future for me at all. But I was faced with a questiuon I could not easily answer : how to do it? See, I admit I'm a coward. I would not jump in front of a truck or a train. I'd be too afraid to survive somehow and spend the rest of my life as an invalid. Though I have a train station close by and sometimes fast moving cargo trains go by, and I did picture sitting myself on the train track, and leaning my head towards the train as it approached. Instant death, I'd imagine, either my neck would break instantly or my melon would just fly off. But those options presented another dilemma to me. I'd have to traumatize multiple people if I chose such a public display of offing myself. I'd traumatize the poor soul that was driving the bus or the ruck or the train, and I'd also traumatize whoever happened to witness. Likewise If I chose to jump off a building, or a bridge. I'd have to traumatize way too many people, and I don't think it would be as quick as other options, and again - I was too afraid I'd survive.

So I narrowed it down to two options : one, I could do it at home, and though I'd be far too much of a coward to slit my wrists, and I don't really have somewhere I could hang myself at home, what I could do was get an overdose and hopefully die. I'd only end up traumatizing my immediate family because they'd find my dead body. That was an option that was on the cards, but still - I didn't want to cause that trauma on them.

And then I found the perfect solution : no one would know immediately, eventually maybe my body would be found, but I would not causing such traumatic pain on my family. Please understand that these were the thoughts of a mind that wasn't well, who was drowned in pain and grief, and everything made perfect sense to me then. I never once considered the kind of pain and suffering I'd be putting everyone through had I actually gone ahead. These thoughts never once crossed my mind. I could only think about the best was to die. And so what was that one perfect solution? Well, I reasoned that the best, most efficient, least traumatizing way - though decidedly not as quick as I'd have wished - would be for me to go down with the waves. I had a plan now, I'd chosen new year's eve to do it. I'd quietly say my goodbyes to everyone, spend the last few hours of my life on a beach near a place that has always been dear to me, get well and truly drunk, and as the new year was ringing in, I'd walk down to the water, keep on walking, and let the waves carry me from this world. That was the plan.

What I didn't plan on was on my son saving me before I could go ahead.

Day One hundred and seventy four - Fade to black

Even before December had hit its midway mar, I had already ran out of money. This had many different and immediate impacts on me : once again I had to depend on my family to keep me fed, I had to aceept the fact that by the end of the year I wouldn't even be able to pay my bills, so in January I'd be without internet and mobile phone service. I didn't even have anything I could sell - other than my books, that is, and for me that was completely out of the question. But the worst thing about being broke is that for the first time ever I wouldn't be able to afford a birthday gift for my son, and nor would I be able to afford him the smallest christmas present. 

This, above everything else, broke me the most. Yes, the Sofia story had me left me sad and with trust issues, and it had left me feeling like I was unworthy of love, but I had never felt like such a failure until that moment. 

I can look back now and I realize I could have avoided such suffering by asking for a loan from a friend - both Hugo and S. would have been able to help me a little bit, had I but asked. But I did not - and not out of pride or anything else, but just because it never even ever crossed my mind. And had it crossed my mind, I don't know that I would have had it in me in me to ask. And again, never out of pride, never about me not being able to humble myself so, but because there was a huge part of me that felt like I didn't want to disappoint me further by begging.

Me and my son have a tradition of spending his birthday together - we'd meet on his birthday, do something together, go to the movies, have a meal, and then, because it would be christmas break in school, he'd stay with me until christmas day. This time, though, things were radically different. I couldn't give him any of that, I couldn't give him anything other than my presence, other than that. And I know, I know, one can argue that those very things in and of themselves would be more than enough, but as a father, not being able to provide for my son, was heartbreaking. I had to ask his mother to send him packed with some money for his return trip, and also some food for him to eat while he stayed with me. I tried to keep how bad my situation was from my family, and I know they'd've never denied my son anything had I asked, but I was in the wrong frame of mind to even consider that.

I was drowning in a heavy liquid ocean made up of sadness, shame, disgust at myself, hopelessness, feeling like I had lost it all. I hadn't yet, there was something else I could lose, something else that I thought would be better for everyone. I decided I'd kill myself.

Day One hundred and seventy three - Too many friends

Having a bit of money - a little bit, only, really - is not the same as having money enough to be ok for a while, or even having some money. So by December I was already running out of money. The night I described in my previous post truly did a number on me, and soon thereafter I stopped going to the gym, and I went back to eating crap. The wights I'd lost would soon start to return, bit by bit. Back then - and thank god for that - I wasn't drinking alcohol regularly, which might have actually saved my life. To save some money, I cancelled my gym membership - every penny saved would soon become invaluable. 

This was also the time where I found myself diving even deeper into social media. I had accounts on pretty much every platform, though I only used facebook regularly, and myspace infrequently. But my usage of those platforms had been, at least so far, quite cursory compared to how intense it would prove to become in the following years. When I first started using social media, I'd add people whom I knew and some other people who I'd chance upon, but I never had a huge amoubt of followers or 'friends'. Around this time, I started expanding my connections to the hundreds, and then the thousands. I'd spend entire days lost in a deluge of information and updates, endlessly doomscrolling through the lives of an untold number of people I didn't know and most likely never would. I started searching for groups that catered to my specific music tastes, groups for comics, for movies, for books, pages for artists, authors, and filmmakers. 

It was during this time that I finally started to realize just how broken I had become. Nothing I was doing with my life was neither healthy nor productive. But I couldn't, in all honesty, see a way out of this. I'd have to break myself some more to do that. But I also realized that I wasn't the only broken thing out there. There many more out there, baring their wee hearts on the ether, screaming for affection, desperate for love. These modern ways of connecting us seeme to amplify our suffering, and gave us avenues to publicly open up ourselves. I found it addicting, coming across human wrecks that were on the same journey as I was, or who were worse than I was, or who just couldn't yet face up to their demons. I accumulated 'friends', I had a chance to go to someone's house and get laid, someone I only knew from facebook, but I didn't go. But all this was emptying me... and fast. I was fast running out of steam... I was fast running out of everything.

And not even the few truly good things I managed to extract from that time seemed to uplift me - I met a few people who would eventually have an impact in my life, some time in the future.

A future, alas, that almost never was.

Day One hundred and seventy two - Further

And just how did things get stranger? Well, about a third of my way back home - between 5:30 and 6 a.m. - I was approached by a girl on the street. I thought nothing of it at first, I know full well that by that time people are already making their way to their jobs, so I really didn't pay much attention to what she was saying. She seemed young, younger than me for sure, but certainly not a teenager. Maybe mid-twenties or so. And she was dressed, you know, just the regular way people who seem to be on the way to where they worked early in the morning are dressed. A woolen sweater, a coat on top of that because the night was cold, some blue jeans- just dressed normally. 

But when she first started talking to me, I was listening to music, and I didn't catch anything she said. I then paused my music, and started listening to what she was saying. But it was like I had missed an important bit somewhere, because what she was saying wasn't making any sense to me. I apologised, and asked her to tell me again what she wanted to say from the beginning. Then I got it.

I mean, I got it as in I heard the words that were coming out from her mouth, but the words in and of themselves I just didn't get. I didn't get why. And let me tell you this was a pretty decent girl, quite presentable. Which made it all the more bizarre. So what she was telling me was that if I wanted to, I could go somewhere with her, and we could be together. Still feeling slightly askew from the club thing, I found myself wondering if, indeed, I had somehow become irresistible to all women. Of course I hadn't, she then said that she was 'affordable' and that she'd 'make it my while'. 

That left me feeling so sad. I mean, I'll never - EVER - pay for sex, it's something I just don't get, and though I do realize that people do what they must to make ends meet, it still was heartbreaking to see this girl. I gently let her down and said no, and she went off into the night. God alone knows where she is now. As for me, I made my way back home - I was already beyond exhausted, and I still had a long way to go.

I crashed as soon as I got home, the hours spent dancing having left me completely spent. I woke up feeling strangely empty - like all the newfound enthusiasm I'd been feeling from the day before had ebbed away from me. This would lead me to a stupor I wouldn't emerge from for months. That night already felt like it was a dream, a fleeting moment whose memories seemed no more tangible than phantom gossamer strands.

I did not yet know it, but this firmly put me in the path to giving up everything.

Day One hundred and seventy one - Falling

It's circa november 2013, and I'm feeling good. I'm felling a lot better than I had felt in quite a while. Exercising every day was doing me a world of good, and I was eating a whole lot better as well. I was looking at myself in the mirror and thinking 'damn, dawg, you look good'. And I was - I was looking like my old self again, the pre-Sofia me, and I was feeling like I was finally moving on, and moving ahead. So I decided I was due for a much needed night out - I needed to be out of my house, I needed to see people again, I needed life around me, I needed to have some drinks and some laughs, and I needed to dance the night away.

I wouldn't be able now to remember whether it was a friday or a saturday, the day I went out, but I decided to hit some bars on the way to my intended destination - a club I used to go a lot back when I used to go out regularly. I had some drinks, to be sure, and by the time I got to that club I was good and ready to have a great night. And bear in mind that whenever I went out, I never did so thinking that I'd end up with someone, I'd never dare presume that. Some times I did end up with someone, most often I did not, but that was never the goal for me.

I was on fire - suited and booted, clad in black, a slim, svelte dark elf, ready to tear it up on the dancefloor. The drinks kept on coming, and I was surprised to find the amount of female attention I was attracting. I kid you not - it seemed as if most of them had their eyes on me, and I even had a group of very good looking girls move towards where I was, and they were all dancing in a sort of circle almost all around me, and all of them - and I do mean ALL of them - were making the eyes at me. But... I was not there for them. I was there for me. I wanted to have fun, not to get involved with someone, not even to have sex. I'm not sure whether I could've even performed. I was still taking meds and my libido had all but gone.

When the club closed at 5 a.m., one of the girls from that group stayed and chatted with me for a while. She was wondering why I'd not picked any of them, but I had no real way of telling her that to me that was never an option. I couldn't think any other way back then. So this girl then thought she had me figured out - she decided that since I wasn't interested in any of them girls, then I must be gay. I told her I was not - and I am not - but she brushed me away.

I left the club to make my way home - I had to walk the long way home, and I had about an hour to go. Then things got even stranger.

Day One hundred and seventy - A tale that wasn't right

Fall 2013, and my life is steadily going to hell. Reeling from the emotional pain I was still in, unable to get my mind in the right frame, and now penniless. Everything had gone. A friend of years past knew I was looking for a job, and told me she knew of an opening for an outbound call center. I was desperate enough to think that it might be a good idea, so she got me in touch with the guy she knew there, and soon enough I'd been to an interview and started my training. It was only a couple of days, and then by the third day we were already talking to customers on the phone. I'd worked in call centers before, but never outbound. I hated it at once. 

I hated feeling like I was disturbing people, I hated hearing my co-workers complaints after each unsuccessful call, I hated having someone hovering over me constantly. I managed to endure one full day there, and halfway through my second day I just up and left. I couldn't physically be there anymore. I found it strangely oppressive... like the building itself had strange vibes that made me leaving queasy.

When I went home, I had to make a decision. I couldn't find it in me the strength and fortitude I neded to go back to work - least of all such a soul destroying job like the one I'd escaped from - and neither did I think to claim any other kind of support from social security. That's how bad I felt, that I deemed myself unworthy of any help whatsoever. So my only option was to sell my vinyl collection.

Granted, by that time I didn't have many records - I had less than a hundred. But I had some good records, and at least a couple I had are worth big bucks now... like four digits big. I got in touch with a couple of buyers, and one of them made an offer I knew was undervaluing my collection. But it was the best offer I could get, and it was cash on hand. Stupidly, I said yes. I saw the guy walk away with my beloved collection for a pittance.

But at least now I had some money in my pocket. Not much, but enough to do some things that were urgent. One of them was buying a PC - I'd been without one for a long while, and if I wanted to look for jobs, then I needed one. I bought a second-or third hand desktop, not great, but I didn't need it to be great. It was around the 150 bucks mark, so a chunk of change got taken away in a jiffy. Now, though, I seemed to have some sort of plan figured out : a PC, and also I got back to the gym to get in shape and be presentable for any interview I managed to get, and I seemed to be on the way to clawing myself out of this abyss.

Oh, my sweet summer child, how truly naive you were.

You hadn't yet fallen all the way.

Day One hundred and sixty nine - Roads

A few posts back I made an asterisk footnote mentioning a story that I'd be telling in the future. So why not do it now? And what that story boils down to is how so much of my life - just like, I imagine, anyone else's life - is made up of those 'what if' moments. You know what I mean - 'what if I made this choice instead of that choice' or 'what if I went that way instead of this way'. And one of my biggest 'what if' moments - which, as it turns out, is also one of my biggest regrets - involves and revolevs around a girl Sara.

No, not any Sara I'd've written about before, this is a wholly different person. She was a facebook friend - I had met her through a music page - and because we had remarkably similar taste in music, we got along really well online. And this preceded both ever knowing Sofia, let alone meeting her, and even Annie coming crashing back into my life like a freight train. Me and Sara got along really well, but we never made a move to meet in real life, though in many respects Sara was very close to my ideal woman : slim, petite, a brunette with long, flowing hair, and bangs that looked amazing on her. I also think that when we met she was seeing someone, so there might have really been no avenue for us to meet. But shortly before I first spent time alone with Sofia, and after the whole Annie debacle, me and Sara were talking online, and because we were both felling down, we decided to meet up. 

I can't remember now exactly where we met, but I took her to a really nice bar not very far from where she lived, and we started to get to know one another a little bit better. I found her absolutely charming at once, and foung myself thinking that I could really fall for her. So for the next few hours we were just talking, and drinking, and looking at each other. Sometimes I felt there was something there, sometimes I thought that she really wasn't into me, but be that as it may, when we left where we were we went for a walk - and in the meantime it started to rain cats and dogs. As we stood beneath an awning to get some cover from the rain - though we were already almost soaking wet - we looked at each other, and immediately started kissing. 

And we kissed, long and deep. And it was good - damn good. But that was all that happened - none of us had been planning on something like this happening, and none of us was too inclined to move things in a more serious direction. A few days later we got together again, and this time though, we ended up in her house. We slept together, under the proviso that we'd just be having sex - a friends with benefits sort of deal. I wasn't opposed to that, but when we woke up together the next morning, as close to one another as we could possibly be, and we kissed passionately, we both went 'uh-oh, this wasn'ts supposed to be happening'. Being with Sara was good. So, so good. And then Sofia came along. And I chose Sofia.

But... during the first days of our relationship there was a moment when - I can't remember what now - I got the feeling that Sofia maybe wasn't as invested as I was. And it just so happened that I also ended up bumping into Sara. Though we'd kept on talking after our night together, I hadn't mentioned to her the Sofia situation. And because she didn't know, she suggested we go back to her place. The doubts I felt Sofia had about us made me go. And again... being with Sara, staying with Sara, fucking with Sara, sleeping with Sara, waking up with Sara... was absolutely amazing. But I had chosen Sofia. Not her, Sofia.

Sara didn't take things well when she found out about us, as is to be expected. I've only seen her the once, and in the street I live in no less, and we barely exchanged a word.

How I wish I had chosen Sara. Not Sofia, Sara.

Day One hundred and sixty eight - Day too soon

But Vera was indeed a much needed friend during that period of my life. Because things would only get worse for me. Remember that letter of dismissal I wroote about getting in the mail? Well, I did trust my boss to put things right, and to be honest... I didn't for a minute imagine that she wouldn't. By July 2013 I thought I'd had enough time away from work to recover, to put myself back together again. Emotionally, I was still devastated, and mentally I was still far from ideal, but I felt strong enough to get back to work. 

So one day I just get prepared to work at what would have been my regular schedule, got on my way, and when I got there everyone was looking at me sideways. Everyone was giving strange, nervous glances. Well, I did see a lot of new faces there - we had a quite high turnaround anyways, so new people were always coming in - but I didn't see or sense that aught was amiss. When I went to the back room to report to my boss that I was ready and willing to return to work, I didn't find her there, but one of my team leaders was. He looked at me with that 'what the fuck are you doing here?' kind of look, and I told him that I was coming back to work. He then told me that as fas as he knew I didn't work there anymore, that was the info he'd been given a couple months back. I thought that some kind of misunderstanding was underway. He said he couldn't let me get back to work, and if I had any questions, I should contact the outsourcing company I worked for. And that's just what I did - I went there and demanded to see someone about this situation. They made me wait for quite a while, but I eventually got to talk with someone. I talked to this woman who told me that me returning to the store was out of the question, they had no need of more people there. But she said she'd personally see to it that in the next few days I'd be contacted with a new job offer. They never got back to me.

But the worst thing was that for me to get back to work I had to make a decision first to communicate to my doctor and then to social security that I was, indeed, fit to return to work - and the doctor agreed on that assessment - and that meant that social security would stop sending their meager cheques through the mail. Ergo, that meant that me not gaving a job, and now having not even that small amount I got in the mail every month, I was once again flat broke. Believe me, the money I got from social security was such a low amount that all I could do was pay my bills, and then the rest was for my day to day expenses, which had to be very, very well regulated. Of course I couldn't save a dime. And of course all this broke me down even further.

Day One hundred and sixty seven - Battle for the sun

I couldn't even begin to tell you how many bad things that happened were an isolated incident; no, they usually come in twos. So besides this Sofia sad story, it just so happened that I found myself without a job. And exactly how did this come to pass? Well, let me put things in context : as you may recall, I was on medical leave before and during my relationship with Sofia came to an abrupt end, and the emotional and mental anguish that followed made sure that I continued on leave. My leaves could be reupped for periods of one month, so I had to go to the doctor to have an appointment with him to see whether or not I was fit to return to work. As I was actually faring worse, I'd started to see a proper shrink, but that only made things worse because all he did was give more meds.

I'd agreed with my boss that every month whenever I got my leave reupped, that I'd pop by the office, leave it with her, and she'd made sure that it would be forwarded to the head office. I never once thought that she'd be lying to me, but on the same week the Sofia drama happened, I got a letter at home from the outsourcing company I worked for stating that I'd been fired. I was left reeling. My mind was racing. What could have happened? I went straight to my job, and confronted my boss. I demanded to know that had happened that led me to receive a letter of dismissal. She looked at it, looked at me, and assured me that I had nothing to worry about. She'd take care of it. I elected to believe her, yet cautioned her not to be playing games with my life. She made a defiant remark, saying that I was the one who was playing games with my life. That was probably the last time I ever saw her.

As summer was upon us, and because I was still under medical leave, I kept doing my treatment, but I also was going to the gym on a daily basis. Keeping fit was a way to keep me sane, time spent running on the treadmill was time spent not thinking about that had happened to me. Time spent alone, though... those were moments when my mind would always wander back to Sofia, and I'd always break down and cry. I couldn't get over her. I still carried pictures of her in my wallet, I read and re-read every single message  we'd sent each other, I raced through memories of moments we shared. In truth, I was torturing myself, reasoning that it was punishment due for what I'd done to Silvia.

I didn't have any real friends at work, and the only one who I really got along with was this girl called Vera. She had started going to the same gym I was going to, and she was well aware of what was going on in my life, and was a much needed support. We started going out at night together, and one day we got really wasted and ended up making out. We almost did more than that, but by then we were getting sober. A good thing, that it never went that far.

Day One hundred and sixty six - Song to say goodbye

I got nothing but radio silence from Sofia for about a week. The first few days, I still tried texting her, I still kept on calling her. Then I stopped. I was feeling lost, and sad, and tired, and I had no idea why what happened between us happened. I missed her. I loved her. I couldn't talk to her.

Then, after about a week, she asked me if we could meet and talk. I agreed to do it, and went and met her. We talked for a while. She told me that she'd realized she'd been fooling herself, that nothing she'd ever felt was truly real. Nevermind her telling me on the day she disappeared how she loved me more than life and would want to have babies with me as soon as possible. But I listened to everything she told me. Every single word she said tore my soul apart. But I couldn't give her up that easy. I was decided to win her back.

So Sofia and me kept in touch for a little while more, and I told her what she meant to me as often as I could. That bought me another day with her, right here at home. We both lay in my bed, hands entwined, looking at one another with so much love. It was as if the nightmare had finally ended. We were at peace. We were one. And in that sacred silence that enveloped us, Sofia proposed to me. This time, it was she who asked me to marry her. How my heart swelled with love once more. I said 'yes', naturally I did. The reward for me daring to hope was to have her disappear again. We'd meet again, sometime later, in the same park where we first went out. I loved her so, so much. And when we kissed that day, she asked me not to kiss her again. Because, she said, when I kissed her that way, she was mine. And that prospect must have been so harrowing that she'd elected never to be with me again.

I've seen Sofia twice, and shortly thereafter. Once, on my way to the gym, I bumped into her, and later we met up because she wanted to return a book of mine she'd borrowed. I've not seen her since 2013. On two different occasions - and far more recently - I thought I saw her : once in a bus, a girl who looked strikingly like her and who crossed eyes with me for a moment, and then maybe a year or so ago there was another girl in my gym who - once again - looked very much like her. But they weren't her, I don't think, certainly not the gym girl.

The last interaction we had was some years back now, it would have been maybe around 2015, or maybe late 2014. I got a friend request for her on Facebook, and I accepted - I deemed there were no real motives for me to deny her my friendship. Our story had gone the way it had gone, but I never begrudged her for her decision. So when a few hours later I found out she'd removed me from her friends list, I sent her a message and told her never to bother me again.

She left me on read, and that was the end of that.

Day One hundred and sixty five - The bitter end

Even before all this, there had already been some signs that things might not be as rosy as they seemed. For months now, Sofia had told me how much she wanted to have babies with me, but lately the converasation had shifted into how she was planning to have an induced menopause. And I never quite got how that shift came about. There was also something else that, try as might, couldn't help but bother me. Now, bear in mind that we live in the social media age. We see thing, and sometimes those things involve those who we love, and when there's no context, you start wondering what's really going on. 

And, believe me, I'd made a decision when things between me and Sofia got serious that I would not cheat on her*. I had learned my lesson with Silvia. And on top of that, even though here and there someone would make their interest in me known to me, I looked at no other woman. I couldn't, I wouldn't, I did not want to. How could I? No one could love me the way Sofia did. But quite often, especially there towards the end, when I saw her facebook page it seemed like there was always some flirting going on... a part of me wondered, if, indeed, she was the one cheating on me.

But after that chilly afternoon where I'd told her how I felt she was taking me for granted, things got quickly better. We had a talk. An understanding was reached. Maybe promises were made. Not very soon after, everything ended. To this day, I am yet to fully understand what led us there. But here's the rundown : that morning we'd been talking as usual, quite normal, by text. I was still home on medical leave, I was thinking that soon-ish I'd be getting back to work, and then I'd look for another job. We were talking, just talking, saying things people madly in love say. She told me how much she loved me, she told me she loved me more than life. She told me she wanted to have my children. My heart swam in pools of love. Future seemed amazing. I couldn't wait for it.

I think I had to go out and something or the other, but when I got home I tried calling her. She didn't pick up her phone. I texted her, no reply. Maybe she was busy, I reasoned. The hours went by, and still nothing. Then I thought, maybe she lost her phone, or she misplaced it or whatever, and looked for her online on Facebook. I went to her profile, and imediately saw that she'd changed her relationship status to 'single'.

That moment. That moment right there... that was the moment when my heart began to shatter into a million little pieces. I wouldn't know it yet, but that was also the moment where my mind started to break. I began weeping an ocean of tears that would last for the following year.

*there's a story regarding that that I shall be telling in the future.

Day One hundred and sixty four - This picture

Sometimes I wonder if me deciding to take care of my mental health was what provided that avenue for Sofia to leave. I don't think it was the deciding factor, but I'm sure it helped. I can't say that things ever got bad between us - they didn't. But the last few months of our relationship were decidedly different. 

On one hand, I was still feeling a little bit insecure about Sofia not introducing me to her family - not even his brother. This will be important in a bit, bear this in mind. On the other hand, and because she still hadn't found a job, though she'd already finished her master's degree, all financial responsibilities still fell on me. If we ate out, I paid. If we went to the movies, I paid. If we went shopping, I paid. I paid for everything - even our sexual escapades when we'd get a room. I never once complained, and for a while when I was paying for her train pass, I had to stop buying my own pass, because I reasoned I could walk to work anyways - I lived about thirty minutes on foot from where I worked.

But I was now on a more limited budget... my medical leave made it so that I only got paid about half - or even less - of what I usually got from my regular wages. And she started showing me a side of her that I'd not yet seen. You see, limited as I was financially, my first priorities were always to pay my bills first, then manage what little money I had left for the rest of the month. But being with Sofia usually meant expenses, and she did like to have her a breakfast at a caffee rather than at home, and we were still eating out more often than not. But what she started doing was whenever we'd be out, and we'd go the shopping centre or a despartment store, and she saw something she fancied - but couldn't afford - she'd... how shall I put this... I wouldn't call her manipulative, but she kinda was. She'd look at the object of her affctions longingly, audibly sigh how much she wanted it, and then she'd look at me as if I should be the one to buy it for her. The trouble is, I couldn't afford it, too. How could I? What little money I could keep every month disappeared. But I... I felt like I had to get it for her. So what did I do? I started selling some of my collectibles - the first series of Lego Star Wars, some statues and busts I had of superheroes - and the loot I made I used to get her whatever she wanted. A ring. Sneakers. A Lego Darth Vader alarm clock. I couldn't not get something if it made her happy.

Quite close to where we broke up I asked her again whether or not she was going to introduce me to her family. She gave me some excuse, and my reply - after a few seconds - was that I was feeling like she was taking me for granted.

Do you know how she reacted to this? She suddenly decided it was best if she went back home.

Day One hundred and sixty three - Meds

I can't remember now whether it was late January 2013, or maybe early February, but for the past few months - it would have been probably closer to a year really - I'd found myself dreading going to work. I really hated what I did, I had people shouting at me for most of the duration of my shift every single day, and I'd started having panic attacks pretty much every day as I was getting close to getting to where I worked. I wasn't feeling well in my professional life, and I didn't want that to interfere in any way, shape or form with my relationship. 

Me and Sofia had talked about our mental health struggles before, and she'd confided in me that she had gone through a depression in the past. I told her that I'd always be there for her whenever she needed. Stupidly, I thought she would be as well. One day I told her that I was going to start getting therapy - it wasn't just the panic attacks, I was also not sleeping very well, and sometimes an odd feeling of sadness would come over me; it would happen only when I was alone, and maybe it was fear creeping in, ghosts of the past running their tendrils through my skin, or it was me allowing doubts to fester inside. Never about how I felt for Sofia, but rather about what she really felt for me. Sometimes I got the feeling that she felt ashamed of me. And I got this feeling because though I'd been together with her for a few months, I'd never met her family. Sure, I'd met her son, but she'd also met mine, as well as pretty much every one else that mattered in my family. These were thoughts I couldn't run from, and that I kept all to myself.

So all that prompted me to go get therapy. I had a talk with Sofia telling her that my mental health wasn't so great, and that I needed help. She went with me to the hospital, I had an appointment with a doctor, and soon enough I'd been prescribed a funky cocktail of meds. I was also given medical leave from work for a month, which could be extended as needed. I took it, I badly needed to be away from work, even if that meant that I'd be getting a check from social security for about half - maybe even less than that - of what I got paid.

I cared not, it was a worthy sacrifice. I felt Sofia's support, I felt her love, and all obstacles in my way would be dealt with. I had a plan : I was going to rest, and get my head in its right frame, I was going to get treated. Sofia and me would fall even more in love, and we'd start planning our wedding. I wanted it to be as simple as possible, just a few choice friends and family. Then, I'd look for a new and better job, and after all that got done, then truly, our life together would begin.

Day One hundred and sixty two - Narcoleptic

I don't often swell on these moments, I've decided not to revisit them for my own sake. I do so now because I want to finally let it all ebb out from me. There are some things now that feel pretty weird to think about, and for a long time now I've had this strange feeling that these things did not, in fact, happen to me, but to someone else. It's really fucked up because sometimes I have a memory or I go a by a place where me and Sofia were together, and it just feels like it could have been anybody else... not me.

It's undeniable that most of this relationship was a time filled with love, and joy, and great sex, and illusion. Sofia had said 'yes' when I asked to marry me, and we even had a date set for September 2013. We'd sometimes go to IKEA and we'd fantasize about what furniture we'd buy. Though Sofia was still doing her Master's degree, which meant that she wasn't working, and had little money to spare. That meant that pretty much all expenses were covered by me. If we went out, I paid for it. If we ate out, I paid for it. If we went to the movies, I paid for it. Hell, I even started paying for her train pass. But I cared little about the money I spent, all I cared about was making her happy and being with her. Sure, that meant that I pretty much never had any money left for myself, but I chalked it all up as a willing sacrifice towards something better.

We even talked about kids - though her son was still young when we met, he'd have been about five or six at the time, she too was so infatuated with the idea of us that she allowed these dreams to percolate. I loved that notion - I hoped fervently that the day came when we could have a daughter. We were making plans, a little bit at a time, and everything seemed possible. We got along so stupidly well in all aspects of our relationship that it was hard to believe that we wouldn't have a future.

One day, Sofia took me to a place near where we first kissed, and she showed me her dream house. She said that she often thought about that place, and us living there as a family. Truth is, I would have lived with her anywhere - in fact, there was a time where things weren't going so great between and her mom, and I told her that she could move in whenever she wanted to. But she said that one day we would have our place. A place all for ourselves, and the kids we had, and the kids we'd make. It was such a beautiful sight. It was a hell of a vision.

As I stood with her that day and looked at where she wanted us to one day live, I couldn't help but love her more. It seemed like a place for us to dream.

Day One hundred and sixty one - Post blue

Our relationship got even better once sex came into the equation, though it did take some weeks before we got into it. And it happened after one night out we had together, though a part of me wouldn't have thought that sex would even be on the table. Now, we'd been together for over a month by then, and that night while we were out, we ended up just talking at this club we were at. We had what turned out to be a pretty serious talk, though it did not begin that way. I might've been feeling a bit down, or whatever, and she asked what was the matter. I knew she loved me, that was never in question, and I knew I loved her. But of course when there's still no intimacty between us, one starts to feel doubts. Not about how we felt for each other no, but rather if she even liked me in that physical sense. She reassured me that she did, that she was dying to. And I wouldn't have to wait much more - that very night, when we got home, we finally began our sex life together. And it was pretty darn good. Those first few times were really, really great! But man oh man, let me tell you. Soon after our first time things got pushed not to another level, but to a number of different levels, and the sex we had was some of the best I'd ever had... some of the best I've ever had, if I'm honest. That amplified that addictive quality we were experiencing - if we couldn't keep off each other then, it became increasingly more difficult after. 

It was something that mostly happened over at my house, but every now and again when we really wanted to get wild, we'd go rent a room for a couple of hours, and just screw our brains out. Man, especially during those times when we went to the motel, our sex was amazing. And really, I thought I had it all : someone whom I loved and who loved me back, a great sex life, we had a semblance of a family going on, and the only thing in my life where I really didn't feel happy was my job. I hated what I did for a living, and it was doing a number on my mental health. I never did search for another job, though, and sometimes I wonder how different things would have turned out if I had looked for a different job. 

I could see me and Sofia spending the rest of our days together, and one day while we were lying in bed, in post-coital bliss, I asked her if she wanted to marry me. She said 'yes' at once - and though I now cringe at the thought of this, we even changed our Facebook relationship status to 'engaged to'. Things were, indeed, looking to be on the up and up, and by the end of the year we were growing stronger together. I looked forward to 2013 - so many wondrous things would happen then.

Spoiler : none of them did.

Day One hundred and sixty - Bosco

I knew I loved Sofia as early as that very first time we were together, when I saw her face in the sun, missing tooth and all. Not merely being in love, I knew it was love. I felt it. Because when I looked at her and made my test, I knew. And it was something I grappled with while I was in Switzerland, maybe I'd fooled myself into thinking I loved her. Who does that? Who loves someone practically at first sight in real life? Maybe I was just kidding myself. As we kissed that day, I knew I was right, deep down in my heart of hearts. I loved her. I loved her more than any man.

And, thankfully, that love was coming from her as well. There was an addictive quality to it, we couldn't keep away from each other. We'd always walk in step with each other, our hands forever entwined. We kissed - god, we kissed, we kissed often, and deep, and long. Because for the first month or so that was all we could do, there could be no other intimacy between us : she was doing a treatment for something that required as little sexual interaction as possible, and I got it. I could wait. I thought I'd be happily be having sex with her for the rest of my life. 

What we had to do though, and at least for a while, was to keep what we had going on the down low. We didn't want anyone to find out about us just yet. And what happened? We failed spectacularly at that. Though we thought that we were being clever with our public online interactions, that was really not the case - though we ourselves never noticed it. One day, me and Sofia went to meet Pedro at a caffee, and we meant to tell him that we were together - above everyone else, and you know, to protect his feelings as well, he deserved to know. We got there a bit early, and spent our time together falling even deeper in love. Soon enough, though, Pedro arrived, and he sat down with us. After a few minutes of small talk, we made what we thought would be a momentous announcement : that we were together. Pedro looked at us with that 'no shit, Sherlock' look on his face, and told us that everyone had already catched up to that. Apparently we weren't being as discrete as we thought we were...

Things were looking good for us, and she got to meet my son, and I got to meet her son as well. It felt like we were really starting to come up with something that would one day be a family. I dreamed, I hoped, I dared. I flew too high, too close to the sun, but the time when I come crashing down in flames to the ground is not not yet now. But for the moment things were still really good, we were happy, she was staying over, and my heart was filled with love every single moment I spent with Sofia.

Day One hundred and fifty nine - Lady of the flowers

Moving forward, I'll be going into stories from my darkest hour. I'll be revisiting how I went from living a love that seemed endless to almost killing myself. Some of those moments are moments that I've not dared think about too much in these past few years, but for the sake of honesty and my own mental health, I'm willing to walk down those roads once more.

That said, I should also state that there was an inciting event that led me to meet with Sofia in the first place. As I wrote before, I really didn't see her that way - I wouldn't have thought that we'd get together. I wouldn't have even thought that we'd be more than the online friends who occasionally saw each other kind of thing. So, bearing all this in mind, know that in the week that preceded my trip to Switzerland I sent Annie an email saying that even though she'd called our 'thing' off, I was still going there. As a sort of final push, you see? Maybe that would have helped sway her mind. Oh, she was very polite, very diplomatic, but she declined my offer all the same. I went to Switzerland nonetheless and stayed with Hugo for a week or so. Maybe slighly less than a week, I can't recall now. But during that time I spent there, I was talking to Sofia all the time. The more we talked, the more we got to know each other, the more we started getting close to one another... there was a growing part of me that was anxious to go back home and be with her again... and I felt the very same desire on her part. 

My days in Switzerland - I was staying in the beautiful city of Nyon - were mostly spent doing nothing, really. Hugo was at work during the day, whenever I'd wake up I'd soon be getting out to do some shopping, then when he came back we'd talk, or watch a movie or play videogames. But it was what I needed, my work left me feeling exhausted every single day - something that would eventually take its toll on me. I needed badly to recharge, to get away, and I was in the perfect place. It's strange now to think this, but I wasn't that far from where Silvia was, but I never once felt the temptation to get in touch with her. That ship had, at long last, finally sailed.

But talking to Sofia was a balm to my soul. Every single message I got from her was like a a ray of light straight into my heart. Something was happening. Something potentially good was happening. My heart began to yearn. My heart began to hope. My heart began to beat.

I met up with Sofia on the same day I got back, and I think I picked her up precisely on the same spot we first met in person. We went for a walk in one of my favourite public gardens, and as I sat beside her, my hand in hers, I moved to kiss her; she kissed me, and with her kiss my life began.

With her kiss my life almost came to an end.

Day One hundred and fifty eight - Blind

Me and Sofia had been talking online for a few weeks prior to us meeting for the first time, but I always thought that there was something going on between her and Pedro. I asked her as much when we were talking about us meeting, and she assured me there was nothing goin on - she always saw him as a kind of big brother. Sofia was something of a confidant for me, it was with her that I talked about how Annie's story had ended, and how disillusioned I was. And she was always very supportive, and positive - something that really surprised me because we didn't know each other that well. So when the day came for us to meet, I went and picked her up at this library where she used to study for her master's degree in architecture - yeah, yeah, I know I know, another architect... maybe I do follow some strange sort of pattern? Maybe then, certainly not now.

It was late summer, still very hot, and she was sitting down on the stairs, idly lost in thought. But as I approached her, she sprang to life and greeted me warmly with a smile. I pecked her on her cheek and said hello, and we moved on to to somewhere else where we could be more comfortable. We agreed to go to a nearby galllery, that had a really nice public park, and we sat there talking for a while. I would not now be able to recall what we talked about, but I do remember thinking that she probably thought I was an idiot and we'd never talk again after that day. But most of all I remember sitting down next to her, watching the sun fill her with light, and I was looking at her sideways and she had this amazing smile that showed a missing tooth, and I was so deeply enamoured with that lovely vision that I found myself wondering if she could be the one. So, inwardly, I said 'I love you' as a test to see how I felt. Damn me if I didn't feel goddamned sure. But things, I thought, would not go that way. After a while of us just sitting and talking, she had to go back home, and I walked her down to the train station. As we said goodbye, certain that our story had already been written, I wanted to kiss her so much, but I didn't have the guts. 

I went home, maybe feeling a little despondent, and started to pack up my stuff. I'm not sure now if I had a later flight to Geneva or if I flew on the following day. I texted Sofia, apologised for whatever, maybe for something that made her think I was an idiot, and told her that I'd completely understand if she never wanted to talk to me. She laughed it all off, and said that she hoped we'd be together again when I got back. 

Truly, women are something I'll never get.

Day One hundred and fifty seven - Loretta Young silks

So, summer 2012 everything was looking rosy for me. Me and Annie kept our long distance flirting going on, I'd already started making plans to go visit her in September, and every now and then I was going to out at night to go hang out with my friend Pedro, who sometimes DJ'ed in a few different bars. You'll remember him, I'd worked with him at the music store some years before, and he eventually hooked up with my ex-girlfriend Ana - the one to whom I'd confessed my dream of one day having a baby girl called Cassandra, and with whom he had a baby girl called... Cassandra. But Pedro and me always got along really well, and we'd never let someone get between us. 

And he had this group of Facebook friends and acquaintances with whom I interacted online as well, and it was always a pleasure to talk to them. So, in due time, the occasion for us all to get together and for everyone to meet each other came about. It was in one of Pedro's gigs, and I got to meet the whole crew : Miss Mary, a really nice guy who I'll call 'M.B.', and who was interested in the aforemetioned Miss Mary, and a couple of other girls : Marta and Sofia. I knew all of them online, but this is was my first time meeting them. By the time that night ended, I'd gained a new admirer - Marta.

Now, Marta wasn't shy about letting me know how interested in me she was, though I always rebuffed her. I told her the ongoing story between me and Annie, but still, that didn't deter her. But Marta... well, I just didn't - couldn't - look at her that way. I just wasn't attracted to her in any way, and it wasn't just that she was a big girl - and who am I to complain about anyone's size or weight when I'm usually far from my own ideal weight - but she had an abrasive, obssessive personality that was quite off-putting. And indeed, how could she - how could anyone, really - measure up to what I thought was on my horizon - Annie.

As for the other girl, Sofia, well... I knew Pedro was trying to win her affections, so I didn't really pay much attention to her. I found out then that they'd known each other for ages, lived right by each other, and that was pretty much it. There was no point in getting to know her much more than that. Funny how things turn out.

As summer moved on, and as my trip to be with Annie was fast approaching, Annie... well, I was going to say she panicked, but no, everything was rational and deliberate. Whatever doubts she had about me - about us - just proved to be far too much for her to deal with. And I have to say... it hurt. I'd really gotten my hopes up. But I should have known that Annie really would always be far out of my league.

So what happened a couple of days before I was scheduled to leave? Well, Sofia and I'd been talking online for the past few weeks, and we agreed to meet up in person - just the two of us.

Day One hundred and fifty six - By this river

And because what comes next comes directly from me and Olga splitting up, let me describe it quickly how that went down. So, after I came back from Poland me and her kept in touch - not only emails, but we wrote letters to each other. Sometime during that period, I founf myself asking if me moving there to be with her would be a good idea. Well, no, it wasn't. That definitely soured things between us for a little bit, but I made my best to make it right again. As summer was fast approaching, I found myself receiving a nice financial windfall, and I had in my mind to do one of two things : either go to Poland and be with Olga again, or I could - once and for all - get my driver's license. I consulted with Olga what to do, and I hoped she would say I could go visit her... but she encouraged me to get the driver's license. Not long after - days, perhaps a week - things fell apart for good. I thought we were having just a regular conversation, but she became very passive-aggressive. As I asked her what was wrong, she really laid it down on me, and told that she never wanted to talk to me again. 

Well, that was weird, but sure. By then I was geting used to people being peculiar, and I just let it go. I just went ahead and started taking my driving lessons. However, something nuclear to what was about to happen in the near future, began unfolding.

So, back in 2003-04, when I was datingb a girl called Sara, I met this friend of hers - or maybe a friend of a friend, really - and sometimes during that time we'd all bump into each other. But this girl - Ana - I never saw or heard of again. But anyway, as our interactions had been very limited and few, I never paid too much attention to it. Now, this being 2012, and with social media in full swing, we found each other on Facebook. We started talking, and immediatelly hit it off. She'd told me she always found it a pity that our paths hadn't properly crossed back then, because she really fancied me. And Annie - as I called her - is a fucking beautiful, amazing, sculpture of a woman, intelligent as all hell, sharp, witty, wild... was someone who I'd always thought way out of my league. But here he were, two passing strangers who'd once met, now baring our soul to one another. There wasn't a day where we didn't talk a lot - and many were the times when we'd be skyping and Annie would be buck naked masturbating for me to watch - though I'd never suggested anything of the sort!

This made my summer an interesting one, and I started plotting my visit to Annie in the near future. She lived in Zurich, and Switzerland was only a plane ride away. I was feeling good. Exercising daily, having something spicy going on with an amazing woman, and litle did I know it, but I'd soon be meeting one the great loves of my life.

Day One hundred and fifty five - In this shirt

So, to wrap up Olga's story. We did spend a very nice couple of weeks there, and I'll always have some great memories about that time. During the day, Olga would be at work, and she left me the keys to her house, so I could go out whenever I so chose. I took the time to get to know Warsaw - not only the central, more commercial part, though obviously it's steeped in history, and the old town part of the city was really great. Because the lived more on thge outskirts of the city, one time I ventured into a nearby forest, not knowing exactly what I was wading into. Well... I soon found myself lost, and not a soul went past me. It felt like I was completely allone in this vast expanse of green, and no matter how much I seemed to walk, I still saw no way out of where I was. I was texting Olga to see if she could provide me with some directions, but soon even my battery ran out. I had no other choice but to forge ahead. Soon I found what seemed to me like some abandoned railroad tracks, and I walked beside them for a while until I was finally seeing the familiar place from which I'd entered. I'd left there with sweat running profusely down my body - this would have been in May, as I recall it - and it was getting pretty hot, and tiny, buzzing insects hung heavy in the air. I had to go through clouds of them sometimes, just to push on ahead.

When I got home to Olga's, I took a well deserved shower and then just rested for a bit, while I waited for her. Suffice to say that by this point me and Olga had started getting it on. And sex with her was good, though not spectacular. Remarkably similar to Silvia at the beginning. Probably one more reason why she enticed me so. One other great memory I have, though, was when she took me down to the Vistula river, and we went to a really cool place called Cud nad Wisłą, a bar with live music. We stayed there for a few hours, and watched a gig or two, and just past sundown we went home. 

A few days before I had to return home, she took me to this beautiful palace - Wilanów Palace, to be more precise, and we had such a lovely afternoon together that I could see myself one day soon moving there to be with her. I decided then and there to make her a surprise just before I left.

That last day I was there, I spent a few hours painstakingly coming up with a plan - I wanted her to got on a little treasure hunt inside her house, so I peppered her place with clues to where she might find it. That she really wasn't as enthusiastic about this whole thing should've helped me see where things were headed, but I was too blind. Eventually, though, she found my wee little presents for her : a stuffed doggie, and also my white shirt, which she rather fancied when she saw me in it. 

I left her a song as well, and in that song, the words said : 'In this shirt, I can be you, to be near you, for a while'. How I hoped she wanted to be near me.

Day One hundred and fifty four - NYC

There's still a little bit more to be added to the Olga story, because something that happened at its end would end up influencing what would follow. But before I get to that, and because we're now at past the halfway point of the year, I want to take stock of how it's been going so far. I wrote before that though my resolutions were largely unnoficial, I'd like to stick by them. Some... I've managed to do, like writing here every day, and mostly being able to keep my room clean on a regular basis. I know that this might seem like too small a task, but what with living with three cats it's not always easy. Still, it's something that I want to keep working at.

But there were at least two other things I wanted to do - one I haven't done at all, and the other I was managing just fine, but then this pasrt May it all went south.

So let me begin with the first I wanted to start doing again - and that's exercising. I'm always finding excuses not to start, and even when I seem to run out of them, there I go creating new excuses again. And I put the blame for that squarely on my own shoulders - no one is forcing me to make the choices I've been making. But all that needs to change, especially because this past may I found myself drinking heavily again. And it's not like I had some sort of mental anguish that would have led me back to drinking, no. Indeed, the excuse I offered up to myself, and that, in fact, I'd already be readying should I come to lapse back into drinking, was that the coming heatwave would make it harder for me to resist the temptation. And as it started to get hotter, I found myself popping down to teh convenience store across the road to get a beer. But that turned into bringing two beers, three beers, four beers... and then wine came to the mix, and of course, to top it all off, my eating for progressively worse. I'd stuff myself with chips and sandwiches, and to help me deal with the hangover, there would be the inevitable drinking of fizzy drinks by the gallon. This, of course, doesn't help me deal with my wight problems in no way, shape or form. I'm already feeling my health levels getting worse, and that has to change as fast as I can.

Because if I don't... then I'm very likely going to die, or worse. And it's not the dying bit that worries me, I've made my peace with death a long time ago, though increasingly I feel like I would not want an untimely death. No, what worries me the most is suffering something that debilitates me seeverely, either soon or at a later stage of my life. And I keep going down this road I'm on, then I can't be surprised when the worst comes to pass.

It's up to me now, turn on the bright lights.

Day One hundred and fifty three - Polish girl

Me and Olga had something that had some potential, but only for a short while, really. Things didn't last long, though I never quite got just why they got sour, and Olga, I would find out later, would even develop some animosity towards me. But that's not yet.. it's still a few months into the future. 

After I first got back from Poland, the PC I had then died. And because I couldn't afford one straight away - and also because I only used it for internet related stuff - I thought I could make do with a cheapo Android tablet in the interim. Well, how wrong I was, I couldn't do even the most basic stuff - like Skype calls, which would have come in handy then - but well, we just had to communicate via email. And we did talk a lot, sometimes I even called her, and we kept things going. And so, maybe a couple of months after we'd first met, I had a couple of weeks off, and I asked Olga if she wanted me to come visit her. We did really miss each other, and I managed to find a cheap flight. I'd told her that I'd off work for two weeks, and she told me I could spend them with her if I so chose, I could stay at hers. So that was the plan, and when the time came, off to Poland I was. She was waiting for me by the time I arrived in Warsaw's very own Chopin Airport, and we went straight to her house. After we arrived, and I got settled in, we maybe made out for a bit, then went to to some shopping. Two things I remember : she made awesome perogi for us, and we drank honeyed beer. Or beer with honey? Whatever it was, I loved it. There would be no hanky panky yet, though not for lack of me trying to give her the nod about how willing I was, but she wanted to wait - maybe to see if I wasn't a complete psycho, who knows? But we slept together, and sleeping with her, next to her, holding her in my arms was good. 

And a funny thing, that very night she told me she loved me. We were kissing goodnight, and she said something in Polish I couldn't understand. She said it again - 'Kocham cię' - and I asked her what that meant. And she told me it meant 'I love you' in Polish. I didn't question it, and I don't know that I loved her. I don't know that we ever really loved each other, we might have just been in love for a little bit. I think the did it for the same reason I'd say it, though only to myself, whenever I was with someone new. If I said to myself, and it didn't feel right, I knew at once that I was wasting my time. I was never once proven wrong. On the other hand, if I did say it and It felt something natural, even though I didn't necessarilly feel it, then it instilled in me the hope that something good was going to be happening.