3. Paul
So, I met Paul ages ago. He's English and has come to the US a few times.
The last time he came, two years ago, we had a great time. We kept going out, getting drunk, mostly. That whole time, I had this feeling that he wanted us to get together. It's just that feeling girls get. He seem to take every opportunity to just be a bit closer to me. Though one time we got super drunk and he put me to bed, didn't try a thing. A bit odd but still sweet in my book. I mean I appreciate it when I guy I like takes the opportunity of being drunk to put the moves on me (if I'm sober enough and all).
We did not hook up. I just didn't feel that big of a connection with him. I also was very hesitant to even consider starting a cross atlantic relationship - which is of course what would've happened since I seem to always jump on relationships instead of just thinking we'd have a casual hookup and call it a day.
He left and I felt sad. I drove him to the airport and he gave me a big hug and a kiss on the lips. My lips were dry I remember, and I didn't like it. It's always nicer when someone kisses you and you have kissable soft lips.
Alright, so fast forward 2 years later. I decide I wanted to go visit him in England. First problem, when we were talking he said maybe I'd have to spend about 4 days of my trip on my own because he was going to have to work. I got upset. I was upset because I felt he should've dropped everything for me. Yes, that's the reason. I was also upset because I hate traveling on my own, I'm a big chicken shit. I'll go around the world, but I don't want to do it all on my own. I'd like someone there, or with me, or some kind of program. But just some backup. Yeap, chicken shit here. Anyway, I was like fuck it, and changed my trip to leave a couple of days before he was suppose to start his job, in order to be "considerate."
Everything's great, though I was very nervous. I was nervous because I asked myself whether I should hook up with him. From his last visit, it seemed he was more than willing and it was all going to be up to me. I just wasn't sure, yet the idea of starting something with some European guy, with his English accent, sophisticated ways, globetrotting life, and all that was quite appealing, quite appealing. It catered to my silly girl fantasies, so I wasn't going to pursue that but if it happened then I'd totally go with it.
I get to England and everything's cool. Except: he turns out to be super organized. I had a list of places I wanted to go and he was just very very committed to us hitting all those places. He insisted on waking up super early, and I insisted on complaining about it. The funny thing is that I could never sleep so I'd either wake up just when he did, or even earlier. It's hard for me to sleep on other people's beds. We slept in hotels a bunch of times, and he booked 2 rooms. It turns out that in England a "double" is just a big bed, while I thought it was two beds in one room. But that's apparently a twin room or something like that. So, I was kind of taken aback at the first hotel when we were given separate keys and thought, "no wonder the hotels are so expensive!" I asked Paul about it and he said he assumed that's what I wanted because he sent me the hotel reservations and I said nothing. I hadn't read the email. Worse, because I hadn't said anything about the double rooms, then we had already booked all our hotels as double rooms. We tried to change it but that became a huge deal and we ended up having to sleep in separate rooms the whole time. This turned out not to be such a bad thing.
As the trip went on, I got more and more frustrated because Paul was very distant, extremely polite to the point of seeming cold, and sometimes robotic and unable to just relax. This created issues between us because the more robotic he was, the more I acted like a child, felt like a child, and saw him like some really old guy (I think at some point I told him he was like my mother because he seemed so paranoid about me leaving my laptop on the backseat of his car!) I felt he thought I was mature so I'd make conversation to boast about all the mature things I did. He'd talk about his X's and I'd start talking about mine. I just really reverted. To the point that now I'm thinking I really am completely immature, and just pretend to be mature to be able to get along in this very ugly adult world.
One incident was weird - we were in Bath with his friend and had gotten very drunk. We were trying to make our way to the hotel and I'm not sure if I was talking, but out of nowhere he asked me "why do Americans say 'like' so much?" I got very upset. In general I took some of his ways as him thinking he was better because he was English. But I'm not sure, I just got mad and stopped talking to him. I then stumped towards the hotel, and at some point he was asking me to talk to him, and I tried to explain stuff, then we went inside without me talking to him and I just walked to my room. I went into the room then he knocked on the door, and that made me happy. He said he was there because he felt we shouldn't go to bed mad. I think that made me more mad. We then talked and he sat on my bed, and I think I wanted him to make some mood, but he didn't and left. I passed out. The details of this whole thing are vague due to me being completely trashed. The next day I met him with a smile and told him we should just not talk about the night before. I'm not sure how much he remembered.
Alright, one night we made our way back to his flat, after much drinking. We were talking about the next day, and I think I complained about getting up too early, or going to too many places. I don't remember exactly what it was that Paul said, but it was to the effect of me pissing on his country or not appreciating it. I know I almost cried, or started to cry, and got upset because I told him that was not true and very unfair. He apologized, but it fed my idea about him thinking quite highly of being English and looking down at us "Americans." At that, he'd made some comments that lead me to think that he's very nationalistic and anti immigrants to England. I'm beyond not nationalistic, but flat out believe in open borders to all countries. I'm of course an immigrant so that may explain my thinking a bit.
Anyway, so my trip was just that, complicated and weird. Sometimes I liked Paul a lot, sometimes I didn't like him, sometimes I thought he was so cute, sometimes I thought he was ugly.
I got back to the US and all that confusion, on top of missing England just mixed in. I, being myself, didn't hold it in but told him. He said he was flattered. We haven't really emailed much since. I figured I'd leave it alone, and try to forget. Though I secretly want Paul to turn around and realize how much he likes me, at which point I'll decide whether or not to give him a chance. Yes, irrational thinking, I know.
See other posts on Paul and I.
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