- Holly Searle
- London, United Kingdom
- Holly Searle is a writer and an artist who was made in Soho and thereafter born in the heart of London. She has been blessed with two quite remarkable children and grandchildren whom she adores. She enjoys the company of her friends and the circus that is life, has a degree in Film and Television, and has exhibited her artwork in several exhibition.
Friday, 30 November 2012
The End By Holly Searle
At the beginning of last week, I was quite happy with my lot. I had just started a new job and everything was looking rosy.
Then out of the blue I received that text message from my friend regarding the interest that a man from the past had shown in me. My human heckles went up. I didn't quite know what to do about it all, as it has been a while since anyone has shown any interest in me.
I went off on that first date with no preconception at all as to what it may bring, but it ended up delivering more than I ever thought was possible for someone like me.
It also gave me back something. It gave me the small gift of hope with the promise of more to follow.
It was like a dream that I didn't want to wake up from. I couldn't believe my luck. At my age, the buses do not appear to arrive as quickly as they once did in my youth.
Then the rescue. I didn't ask for that. I didn't ask for the intimacy, but I welcomed it will open arms as that is the sort of person I have always been and probably will remain so for the rest of my life.
It was perfect.
I made the most fatal error of all in sharing this news with a few close friends. I am glad that I didn't hire a biplane a with a message attached to its tail now reporting my good fortune, as it then it all began to go horribly wrong.
We are due to meet a few days after our perfect evening. When I arrive, I am not an idiot and I realise straight away that something isn't right with him.
His beautiful face carries an unremitting sadness that is beyond repair. I sense that this isn't going to go well. I ask him if he is okay as he looks like an animal in pain. He says no, he is fine.
We walk, he asks me a few questions. I gabble on, trying to fill the space that is increasing between us.
And then I realise that he is crying. It is just the most awful thing in the world. I
I cuddle him and ask him what is wrong and he tells me.
It is his children. In the event of his recent unexpected break-up, he is devastated by the affect it is having on them.
I say all I can to support him. I do not know what to do. I am sadden by his pain. It isn't nice.
We leave the park and he drives me home. I am uncomfortable as to know what to do. There is an air of loss and brevity about all that follows.
I make him a cup of tea. He cries again. I wipe away his tears and hug him.
He leaves and tells me that he really likes me, but wants our times together to be happy. I say I agree. He cuddles me and I also start to cry as something is flagging up in my mind about all of this. Something I have encountered all too often.
He is saying one thing, but what he is really saying, isn't that clear. As I realise he has realised that he has taken on too much.
He cuddles me and I start to cry. I don't want to cry, but I know that there is a sense of an ending about all of this and once again another man is leaving me.
I hear nothing from him.
And when I do. My worst fears are realised.
I am not a selfish person. And I should really know better than to wear my heart on my sleeve. And if he had just taken a moment to consider all of this before he blew up my emotional balloon, if he had only thought it through, maybe I wouldn't be so devastated now.
I realise that he has a journey to go on and a new foundation to build for his children. I am not an idiot, but I feel like one.
I will not doubt move on. What choice do I have in the matter?
He has apologised and ended it with me via a text. I would have hoped that I was worthy of a call or a visit to deliver this news, but at least I know now.
I wish him well. He isn't a bad person, just one that is lost in an emotional sea of turmoil and unpleasantness.
I hope he works it all out, I really do.
Me, well I guess, I should really learn something from all of this, but what that is, I couldn't possibly say.
Just like that bull called Ferdinand from the children's story called The Story of Ferdinand The Bull, I shall just go and sit back under that mental tree in a field and smell the flowers and be quiet.
I don't actually know what else I can do.