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Romantic Failures – S (a different one – The One)

27 October, 2012

I haven’t shared a romantic failure with you for a while, and to be honest all the others are a standard combination of lusting and being too nervous. But I haven’t told you this one. The One.

 

I still see S sometimes, we chat on facebook, we meet up every so often. But she doesn’t know the importance she has in my life.

Back in my days as a restaurant manager, S was one of the waitresses. She was and still remains the most beautiful girl I have ever met. Think Charlize Theron. Yep, she was that good looking. Her best friend (a mutual friend) used to send her into a full restaurant when we needed a table as she figured we would have more chance if we “sent in the gorgeous one.” We worked together for about three years during which time I had the serious hots for her, but for most of that time she was seeing one of the kitchen guys. Even at the times when she wasn’t, I used the fact that I was her boss as my excuse to myself not to ask her out. I think we all know that it was really my fear of failure that was the real issue, and although we worked well together and were great friends, during those years I never made any romantic advances, other than in my dreams and my fantasies.

She moved away to go to university, and although I visited for drinks and football a couple of times when Saints were playing away in her town (she was and is a big football fan), she was living with a boyfriend at the time. She came home during holidays though and worked with me again, and we went out for drinks a few times as mates. She was one of very few people in the real world who knows I write, and when I eventually left the job, she bought me a mug saying “Bugger off, I’m thinking!” which she told me I had to use while I was writing. I’ve still got the mug, I still write.

Fast forward 4 years. I heard rumour that she was back home and when I went to another restaurant friend’s engagement party, she walked in and to this day that is the one moment when I have been speechless at how she or any other woman looked. She was perfect, in a sleek, sheer gold dress. She was also about five months pregnant. And she was with the guy she used to see in the restaurant days.

Skip forward a few more months, she had given birth to a daughter, she called me, did I fancy dropping round, it would be lovely to see me. I did, and we caught up on the intervening gossip – the father was her old bf from Uni days, via a one-off “for old time’s sake” night together. She wanted to make a go of it with him, but he refused to acknowledge their daughter was his, hence she moved back to do it on her own. She hung out a bit with her old kitchen bf, but he was getting engaged – they were just mates. Anyway, our friendship grew, we would see each other quite a lot for a few weeks, then it would go quiet for a while. Then I would get a text or a call, we would meet up and the cycle would begin again. This went on for a year or so. All the time I was desperately in love, yes love, with her. I would picture the three of us together, becoming the four or five or six of us. But, and this will come as a huge shock, I was too scared to make a move, and was too stuck in the friend zone.

We were out at the pub with friends one night, and the subject of an upcoming away football match came up. It was a huge game, and I was going to get tickets. “Do you want to come to?” I asked her. “I’d love to.” “I’ll come too,” said her best friend, “it’ll be fun.” “I don’t think so,” I said, looking at S, “this day out is just for us two.” She smiled, and agreed with me.

So we went, and we won 2-0 with Matt le Tissier scoring both (one direct from a corner), and we rounded off the night with a bottle of wine, a Chinese take away and a DVD. It got to about 11pm, it had been perfect. “Well, it’s getting late,” I said, “maybe I should make a move.” I stayed where I was, waiting for her to say “No, have another glass” or “No, it’s still early” or “No, don’t go home yet, join me at this end of the sofa and we can have the desperate passionate sex we have both been dreaming of all these years.” But instead she said OK, and I left.

The next time I saw her she had met someone at work, they had been seeing each other literally weeks, but they were getting married. I made an excuse not to go to the ceremony, I couldn’t bear it, but I went to the evening reception. She looked stunning of course and I told her, but she still didn’t look as perfect as that night at the engagement party. I smiled all evening, but I was heartbroken. I got out early, blamed the train timetable (even though there were two more trains after the one I caught) and cried all the way home.

It was then that I knew I had blown my last chance when I had left that night, that our erratic social schedule was her calling me when she was single, that she had been waiting for me to make a move all these years, that the most beautiful girl I had ever met had in fact liked me too, that she was The One, that someone else had married my wife. And that it was my fault.

 

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8 Comments
  1. TheOthers1 permalink

    Oh TRG. I can’t even like this post because its too damn sad. You need a hug and a good wing woman. I’m your girl, blogging twin. Next time I see you.

  2. But… don’t you think there’s a reason you didn’t make a move… ever… (and neither did she)? I mean, you’ve been with other women. And you’ve made moves on women who rejected you, so it wasn’t like you were completely paralized about putting yourself out there. Hmmm. Okay, I’ll stop psychoanalizing now, but I think there was a reason for all of this, beyond fear.
    Lovely writing, though, btw. I empathized with and was rooting for you all the way until the end!

    • i’m no casanova, but yes it’s true i have done rather better with other women.This time it was definitely a case of not being brave enough to risk the friendship. And thinking about it now, i was also convinced she was out of my league and wouldnt have been interested.

  3. These kill me….. I feel like I am going to have to come over there and take you out and teach you how to just make a random move. Over and over and over again. Like that movie….can’t think of the name of it…has Ryan Gosling 🙂

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