The curse of the 3 month fascination

So….my first blog…..

I’m going to tell you about my curse.

I’m a people lover. They fascinate me – watching them, listening to them, talking to them. I have no ulterior motive, I just like people. The human race as a whole I detest, but individuals, totally different.

I was brought up in a very multi racial area so don’t consider myself racist. Anyone and everyone hold an interest but if you’re white and an arsehole, you’re an arsehole. If you’re black and an arsehole, you’re an arsehole.  Same for religion – muslim or christian or sikh….if youre a cockend im not interested.

I have a curse on me though. I fascinate people. Men and women, but mostly men. Recently I have noticed a very pronounced trend. The fascination to start with is all consuming for the other person and then gradually it wains. To nothing. All i do is chat. I love chatting. It’s the finding out about the person. The listening. Finding common ground. The laughter, shared experiences. Also the giving of yourself. The trust (oh boy do i give my trust easily). And then I must share too much, or care too much, or reveal that I am just plain, boring, fat, old, slightly depressed me, although i’ve never hidden that. Whatever, one day fascination, the next they’re gone.

The majority of this stuff is happening online, but it has always happened in my life, and I’m that old that it predates the digital age!  In work, everyone gets a card and cakes bought for their birthday. Because nobody is interested in me, this year I got nothing. Couple of girls i worked with (for years) couldn’t remember me. Went to a class reunion and 5 women said they didnt remember me. One if them sat next to me in biology for 3 years!

There is something that happened this week though that has made me write this down.

On Twitter I had become firm friends with a guy who I respect deeply. We share many opinions, he is very funny, talented and extremely kind and caring. I know everyone thinks that twitter is fickle, and indeed it is, but I have made many real friends via twitter,  people I would not be without. This guy would be one of them. I should explain that I do not have visions of a huge romance with him, I just treasure his company. We started messaging after i criticised his gramnar. We ribbed each other on DM for a few weeks. Tyen we talked about deeper stuff

As I’ve said, he is kind. He’s also very easy to talk to. I have told him lots about myself. I told him about the curse. Told him after 3 months he’d wonder why he ever started talking to me. That i’d fade into insignificance for him and that I’d just put it down to experience again and try and go on as normal. I was assured he genuinely liked me, found me funny, saw we had lots in common etc, that we were great friends. That I wouldn’t be left behind. He’d always be there. So, we both have jobs and busy lives, but even when he was busy he’d text me a “pssst how are you” and we’d always say goodnight and good morning, our little routines.  I know that may sound pathetic but it was just a really nice thing to have. I never text first unless I was sending a picture of something or telling him that a film was on that I knew he’d like. I hate to think I’m intruding, or a burden or nuisance. I wait to hear first.

Then, lo and behold, gradually I stopped hearing and chatting as much. I put it down to the time of year. I accepted it. Then the silence was far more pronounced. I was going through a hell of a tough time at work, i was desperate to pour my heart out to him as i knew he would understand. I didn’t intrude though. A few times i’d see he was online (not in a stalker way, just noticing). I’d send an “are you ok?” and get a “yeah, dead busy”.

I knew what was happening. Fascination over. It’s ok I told myself, but really it wasn’t. It’s not. I wonder why it happens. I wonder what is wrong with me that people don’t care. The thing that really hurt though was i decided to ask if he was chatting to someone else now. “yes” he said “someone i chat to every day, but they are a good friend”. I took this to mean I am not;not a good friend. I don’t know what i am, i just know that the thought i am not a good friend after all my investment makes me get a pain in my chest. A physical hurt. Because this time I invested a lot. Told him a lot. Ugly stuff, beautiful stuff. But I am not a good friend. I am so sad about this. I have cried much over that thought. More than he will ever know.

And through it all he is still the lovliest, kindest man. A friend to many. Incredibly caring. If you read this you probably chat to him. He’s probably asked how you are. So don’t hate him. He just lost interest as so many others have. He is still a wonderful person.

And if I sound like a mug, or self obsessed, then so be it. I want to be liked. I want to be thought about, as I think about others. And I care about me. I have no one else to care about me so I must do it. Because I have a theory about me.

My theory is that I was put on this earth to love and care for others. I am not made to be loved for just me. I think there is something not quite right about me. I have never been someone’s grand passion even when they were mine. I’m a cook and homemaker and I’ve been loved for that,  my persona merely tolerated. So, I accept my lot. I can’t say it makes me happy but I kind of understand now. So it’s pointless hoping.

What I’d really really love though is to find out why. So if you read this and you’ve been one of those I’ve held a fascination for and then you realised…….please tell me what you realised. Please.  I can’t and won’t change who I am but at least I will know. The not knowing is a bastard. And it stings.

And just in case you are wondering,  yes I have friends. Quite a few. And enough of the ones that are close and that love me warts and all. Who tell me I’m a prick or that I’m lovely or drunk or who put a pair of knickers on as a bra to help me out. I have the most fabulous friends, but I’d love more. I love people remember,  individuals.