I’m Fucking Falling For You
Fuck me, I don’t even know where to start updating you with everything. I’m about a week behind in blog posts, so I’ll try to keep things nice and easy to read along with … but I have so much to tell you!
“I’m picking you up after work. Wear the cowboy boots and that dress again, please,” Jock text me. It thrilled me that he’d told me what to wear. It’s a little bit of a kink of mine, I think; a man telling me what to wear, how to dress, which perfume to wear … I wish more of my partners had done that for me. Maybe this one is finally the one to do it??
I went home from work and primped and preened for a couple of hours (it’s hard work, being female and expected to remove every trace of hair from your body) before putting on the outfit he’d requested and doing a little twirl in the mirror. I didn’t look bad in that outfit, even if I did think so myself.
I thought it was going to be just us two going out for a drink or something, but as we popped into his to do whatever it was he needed to do, we bumped into one of his housemates and he invited her along. It was a good job I hadn’t put the love eggs in to surprise him as I’d planned. My period hadn’t completely gone, sadly. Maybe it had been a sign?
Still slightly pissed off that our two-some had become a three-some (not in that sense), we polished off a bottle of wine or two at the house and it surprised me just how much I really got along with his housemate. She was cute, funny, Irish, with the loveliest mane of bright-red hair. Despite thinking we’d have nothing in common, my pissed-off-ness soon disappeared and I started to have a fabulous night, laughing along with my new friend’s jokes.
“Let’s go to the pub,” someone suggested. Probably me. 15 minutes later, we bundled ourselves into a cab and headed to a pub in town. It was a gorgeous night. Warm, balmy, just right for sitting outside and drinking glass after glass after bottle of wine. All three of us were pissed in no time at all, especially after pre-gaming at the house, and then … well, shit got real.
A leggy, tattooed babe walked past and seemed to capture everyone’s attention. A few other patrons of the bar, the housemate, me, and definitely Jock. He couldn’t stop staring at her. I tried not to get mad about it, but I was mad. Furious. And the more I drank to mask the anger, the more furious I got. Eventually, I think he realised that I was about to lose my top and pulled me to one side.
“That was my ex,” he said. “I didn’t know she was going to be out tonight and I’m really sorry. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I’d have known. Have I upset you? I’m sorry.”
I figured he deserved a break so I let it go. It can’t have been nice for him to be out on a date with a new girl and then bump into the old one. She walked past again, and then a third time, making things really drawn-out and super awkward each time. I half-thought she was walking past deliberately to get his attention but she didn’t even acknowledge his existence.
Jock and I smoked and drank and chatted for a while and he told me a little bit more about their relationship. They were together for four years in total, and she has a daughter from a previous relationship that Jock very much considered as ‘his’ daughter. He made it clear to me that the daughter and her mother were still in his life, but the mother wasn’t in any real capacity. Just in passing.
He went on to tell me that the mother – his ex – found out she had cancer, received treatment, and then got the all-clear. At the same time as the all-clear, she kicked Jock out of her life. I could see the sadness in his eyes as he told me the story, so I’m assuming it’s a topic that still gets to him a bit — and quite rightly, if what he told me is true. It didn’t sound very amicable at all.
Clearly feeling better for having told me, we carried on with our evening, returned to his housemate, and carried on drinking. It wasn’t long before his ex walked past … again … but this time she pulled him to one side and they spoke for a moment. I tried to direct my eyes in every direction apart from where they were standing but it seemed like my gaze was automatically drawn to them. I felt something. Jealous? Anger over the story he’d just told me? It looked as though Jock wanted to introduce the ex to me and his housemate, but she shook her head and they soon parted ways.
“She’s probably going to be a real bitch to me now for being out with you two stunners,” he laughed as he returned to our table. “She gets a bit funny sometimes, tries to stop me from seeing my step-daughter, that kind of thing. Maybe she’ll do that again after seeing me with you.”
I knew it had been a flippant comment from him. Probably a way to inject a little humour into a clearly awkward situation. It didn’t sit well with me, though. The statement bounced around my head, echoing louder and louder each time.
… tries to stop me from seeing my step-daughter … maybe she’ll do it that again after seeing me with you …
And because I was drunk and couldn’t let it go, the night went downhill fairly quickly after that.
The more I drank, the more jealous, angry, and bitter I started to feel. I was annoyed that this seemingly perfect man had a ‘flaw’: his emotional baggage, and the more I thought about it, the more I started to convince myself that he’d taken me there ON PURPOSE, to bump into his ex ON PURPOSE, in an attempt to make her jealous.
She was six feet tall, covered in tattoos, with large and perky breasts and legs for days.
I’m five foot three, 160 pounds instead of the 140 I want to be, with a handful of tats, most of them in hidden-away places.
Why’s he dating me, then? She’s perfect.
He tried so hard to fix the night; to make up for the ex-debacle, but I wasn’t having any of it. He bought me a bottle of my favourite champagne in a club we went in and I accused him of splashing the cash to make himself look big in front of everyone else. He tried to dance with me and I got angry at him because I wasn’t more graceful in heels, like his ex had been. She made me feel short and frumpy in my little cowboy boots. She made me feel a lot of things for a woman I’ve never spoken to.
Jock’s a smoker. I gave up a few months ago, but he offered me a cigarette and I took it and smoked it, and then I got angry at him for offering me a cigarette. I kept twisting his kind and patient gestures and turning them into a reason to hate him, but it wasn’t really him I was hating on: I was hating on myself. I didn’t feel good enough about myself so I’d started projecting my own insecurities onto a man that was actually handling my crazy-drunk side remarkably well.
And then, when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, we had a fight on the way to the taxi rank on the way home, just the two of us at that point. We’d lost the housemate and his ex somewhere along the way. He tried to say something nice and in return … I punched him in the face. This is reason #585579374 why I shouldn’t drink: I get violent for no reason.
As I waited for him to tell me to go fuck myself and find my way back to my own house, he didn’t move. Instead, he grabbed my face, kissed me on the nose, and then said a sentence I don’t ever think I’m going to forget:
“Shut up and stop it, I’m fucking falling for you!”
I honestly didn’t see that coming. I’d just punched him in the face … he should’ve called the cops on my ass, not declared the first flourishes of love for me. I guess he’s just as mentally unstable as I am? I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve him.
But that was a week ago and things have been … cooler. His “falling for you” line really stopped me in my tracks because it’s really happening: the whole love thing. I thought it was just me, but now he’s told me that he feels the same way … it’s not something I can ignore or pretend isn’t happening anymore. Between that and the fact I punched him in the face, I figured we could probably do with some cool-down time.
And going back to that punch … would I have really done that if I liked the guy that much? I’m worried I’m turning this little thing between us into a big thing, thinking I’m falling for someone when I’m not, and I won’t be able to get rid of him when I realise that later on … just like The Guy I Couldn’t Get Rid Of and One Ball. I need to do some serious thinking.
Is Jock what I really want? Or is he just-now fun?
Why the fuck did I punch him in the face though??
Do you fancy reading more posts where I make terrible drunken decisions? I’d like to personally recommend these:
The club scene reminded me of my friend Marie and her ex……..it always seemed when they were around alcohol drama always ensued. She would end up slapping him for some reason or another or create some scene and then spend a day or two being miserable because he ended it……………well I think they are on break up #23 hahahaha……..but I tell her that when they both drink they end up making a spectacle of themselves and end up regretting it later. she agreed ….but unfortunately didn’t listen.
Well I’m kinda hoping it was a one off lol!