I met Sam* the old fashioned way - on Manhunt. We bonded over our mutual like of Saved By The Bell and ended up watching the "scandalous" unauthorised behind the scenes film together. The next six weeks passed by and we spent more time together; going to the movies and theatre, having dinner and spending nights together. He would pick me up from work, drop me off home and met various friends of mine. All the makings of a great relationship. Right? WRONG.
We had "the talk" this week. Or not so much "the talk" as me telling him I really liked spending time with him. His response? "I'm looking for mates more than a relationship at this point and I don't think I've done anything to suggest otherwise?" No, not at all. Apart from the constant time spent together, the kissing, the cuddles, the sex and the sleepovers. Nothing. At. All.
So there's that over. We're just mates. I hate that word. Mates. What gets me is how someone can do all the things mentioned above and not think that maybe, just maybe, the other person might think this is something more than just mates. Was I expecting too much perhaps? Was I too naïve to think that the intimate moments we shared could be constituted anything more than just being friendly?
My friends don't seem to think so. Strangely enough, the majority of the people who were surprised by our mateship are heterosexuals - guys and girls. So, is it a gay thing? Am I thinking repeated sex and intimacy with one person means something more than just some casual fun, especially within a community that is highly sexualised?
Regardless, I am now back to square one. Single. Although I guess I was always there to begin with! With my 32nd birthday looming (hello New Years Eve), I feel the cynical and jaded romantic in me growing each day with the doubt that there is someone out there for me, my bait is running low and the sea is almost empty, but I will happily and readily wait to be proven wrong in this instance.
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