I hate my brain sometimes

especially when it tries to sabotage good things. Fortunately, in my modern Noely 2.0 SP1 form I recognise these niggles and catch them before they register as gospel and have a chance to modify my thinking to the negative.

I know it's just trying to protect me, and I have a choice as to whether I listen to it or not. I do have a choice. It's simple: This thought is wrong, this thought is right.

Ok, it's not that simple. My brain can't help but ask these tough questions, looking for answers and being suspicious, because of my past. I've been hurt, a lot and over a long period of time, by the events and legacy of a couple of old relationships. And now my brain appears to be sowing seeds of doubt in various furrows. Here, I'll let a few out:

Are her motives genuine?

Is this about me, or moving here?

Have I been groomed?

Stop it, brain! I don't want to think these things! It's insulting, it shows a lack of trust and it's insidiously poisonous. Why would I move to ruin something that's obviously wonderful and has such a gloriously promising future at such an early stage?

Something flashed into my mind as I was writing that: maybe it's easier to walk away now because the pain of being apart from the greatest love I've ever found will be too much to bear. Well I'll tell you what, brain: Not gonna happen! I'm in this for the long run, I'm here to build and solidify this love, this future, and I don't care how much it hurts because I know I'm capable and self-aware enough to deal with it.

This isn't the old me, this is me, now. Old me would be here sabotaging things and poisoning the thought supply; new me is here looking at these thoughts and laughing somewhat at how outdated they are. I love you, brain; you're trying to protect me and I'm thankful for it, but is there any way we can upgrade the software to correct the process by which you do what you do? If I wasn't paying attention, this could quite easily have ruined me.

I guess that's part of the deal, isn't it. The support package. I have to be always paying attention, consistently self-aware and introspective, so that bugs like this can be caught, processed, re-written and allowed to run free in the computer of my conciousness.

A thought occurs. We are regularly able to adjust how we behave in front of different people: we don't swear in front of our grandparents, we are polite in the presence of the police, we're often cheery with the nice lady in the supermarket because their optimism is infectious. So is it possible to adjust this old behaviour as easily as being a different 'me' around these people?

It's a habit, I guess. I've fallen into a habit of over-analysis and negativity and suspicion, when what I fundamentally want to do is just get on with it. Is it enough for me to acknowledge these thoughts as they arise, calm them or deflect them and let them be? No, I don't believe it is, because the minute I let my guard down they have their chance to poison good things, and I don't think they should have the power to do that in the first place.

Quick-fire round!

Why is my brain doing this?

It's trying to protect me using old behaviour.

What is the trigger?

In this instance it's meeting someone new and recognising old patterns and feelings.

How do you feel about it?

It's wrong, dangerous and I don't need this old behaviour in my modern thinking.

What is your motivation for change?

It feels poisonous, it has the opportunity to ruin good things, and while I appreciate its rationale, I know my life would be better without the particular methodology these thoughts use.

How would you like to change it?

I'd like to be able to just accept something for what it is, instead of over-analysing and being suspicious. I'd like to maintain the model of protection with more positive processes instead of being driven by fear.

What would remove your fears?

Trust, I suppose. Am I over-analysing this? Do I not want to admit that I'm having difficulty trusting Tess? No, I don't want to admit that because it has the power to hurt her, but this comes from within and isn't anything she's done to trigger it. So yes, trust. This is something I have to work on, not something she has to prove.

What are the barriers to this?

My shitty old-brain thinking. I'm actually getting angry thinking about it. I think I'm confused and a little overloaded and I'm not sure I can do this now; the more I think about the the more frustrated I'm getting.

I think I'll take a little space and make some consultations before carrying on.

So yes, I miss you

and that feeling's been growing throughout the day. I feel a bit rubbish for dumping a whole load of stuff in you between getting in from your evening out and getting to sleep, especially as you were in such a good mood, but I know you don't really mind and you'll be thinking "But that's what I'm here for babe". I bet you did. I adore that. I haven't managed to feel much better during the second half of the day but I'm coming to terms with one of the things I think has affected my mood today.

I do miss you. Terribly. I just watched a scene where a guy and a girl who thought they'd lost each other ran into each other's arms, smiling and laughing and kissing and hugging. It made me positively emotional, bringing me to the edge of tears. It feels a little like I've put the whole concept of three years apart to the back of my mind and locked it away for fear of it being too much to handle. I've concentrated on our planned meeting in October as the light at the end of the tunnel when in reality the tunnel could be considerably longer and filled with many dark spaces.

One of the reasons I became overloaded today was because you started to talk about visas and perhaps managing to come here in two years, and my heart jumped in my chest. I've foolishly set my mind on the idea that you could be here in a year to eighteen months and used that as a reference point for the future, effortlessly forgetting that there's a good chance it'll be considerably longer.

My immediate urge when thinking about us being apart for that long is to get a list together of options for bringing that time forward, or understanding what time-frames we're looking at for the long-term. I have deliberately stepped away from looking at potential visas or options for getting you over here because I'm terrified I'll see how difficult or impossible the whole idea is and panic. But now I've whirled up this confusion I have my usual motivation to understand it, and I feel it'd be beneficial to us both to work out what we can do and when, and set both our expectations as to probabilities and possibilities instead of what both of us have now, which is a whole bucket of uncertainty.

There are some certainties: I'm not going anywhere, I'm in this for the long haul no matter how much the distance hurts; I've seen how wonderful we can be together and I'll work hard to make it so we get our chance to show the world how it's done. I'll repeat something that's become quite a theme: if we can do this, we can last forever.

I have lyrics and melodies

constantly running in my head and it occurred to me this morning this used to be a distraction technique my brain would use to stop me thinking about something important and emotional. I've been skirting around trying to focus on what that might be, and I'm afraid that if I assume, infer and propose the cause, the floodgates will open and I may be faced with an insurmountable amount of emotion. I don't want to plant the seeds of a longer-term issue but I think it's worth exploring what I think it might be and what my attitude towards it is.

In the past it's been a restraint, a coping mechanism, something to keep my brain occupied so it didn't wander off and discover what it was trying to distract me from. Now I see it as a warning that I'm overloaded, or suppressing something important I need to pay attention to, and that's the purpose of this post.

Yesterday I spent a few minutes reflecting on how awful I felt at the start of this month. Three weeks ago to the minute, I was alone in a hire car a few miles from home having dropped Tess at the airport for her flight home. We'd cried while we queued for her check-in. I cried after she walked through the gate and before I'd made it half-way to the exit. I cried again when I carried my bags up to an empty flat. I cried a lot over the course of the next few days and surprised myself a little; I hadn't anticipated letting her go to be so thoroughly painful.

A few days later, after much discussion and consultation and opinion-polling, we decided to make a go of our long-distance relationship. From my end at least, this was driven by two factors: first, amazement at and confidence in the scale of the feelings involved and the compatibility between Tess and I, and secondly amazement at the scale of the pain involved in ending our brief relationship.

It's hard for me to admit that part of the reason I accepted the idea of a long-distance relationship is because I was hurting so much from us being apart, but it's the truth. Saying it out loud sounds like I only did it to stop the pain, but that's not the whole picture - I saw the scale of the pain as a reflection of how much I felt for her and how much I didn't want to let her go.

Since we decided this thing was too big to let fizzle out into nothing, the whole of the last two and a half weeks have been much easier than I ever thought they would be. Our love and appreciation of each other will see us through, of that I'm sure, but I'm concerned about the emotions that were diverted when we decided to go for it. It was a little like a switch was thrown and I went from feeling anxious, stressed and pent-up to ecstatic, happy and loved in an instant.

That instant troubles me. It's great because it was the start of something wonderful and beautiful and I have confidence I've made the right choice, but it's disturbing because I know there was a truckload of suppressed emotion there that I'd not let out, not processed and put to the back of my mind while trying to get on with day-to-day life. Its scale was enormous, big enough that it seeped out occasionally in the form of tears and sobs and deep, strong longings.

I think processing that suppressed emotion is key because it currently feels like it's poisoning my mind, to the extent that I'm starting to get worried about slipping back into depression. Interesting that here I am, in a period where I'm supposed to feel happy and elated and wanted and loved, and I feel a little like I'm sitting on the edge of the abyss.

Something this is making me scared of, this darkness, is that I'm holding back on missing Tess. I'm afraid I miss her so much more than I'm willing to let myself see, and if I let it go it'll take over and diminish the wonderful feelings I have rushing through me much of the time. Alternatively, I'm scared that thinking I miss her more than I feel I do might plant the seeds of bigger feelings in that direction, and I don't know whether... I just don't know what I feel. I have no idea why I'm second-guessing myself on this - I'm finding it easier than I thought but is that because I'm holding back missing her or just because it's genuinely easy?

One thing I do know is that I'm holding out hope that she finds a way to make it here for studies sooner rather than later. I keep thinking I'm kidding myself if I think she's going to be here in a year or eighteen months, what apparently insurmountable things have to happen for us to be that lucky, and how...

Gah fuck. Overload.

Also, grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey. Fucking grey. Piss off until November already. I want some colour back. The view from my flat is fucking depressing. Walking isn't as fun as it should be. All my photos look shit. Sort it the fuck out.

Jesus, what a foul mood. I don't know why there's this sudden turn to darkness but I'm already fucking sick of it. I do think I'm overloaded somewhat and I've kind of been using sticking plasters recently in the form of internet use and chats with Tess and music and things, and I need an outlet, and some sleep, and perhaps more exercise. I just want rid of it now, I've only had it for a short while and I can already see how much it's effecting my judgement.

Another post later, maybe.

Yesterday was quite productive

in that I got home, put some shopping away and got out the flat-packed bedside unit and desk Argos had so kindly over-delivered when they dropped off Sophie's desk, unit and wardrobe. I put them both together over the course of the evening, mixing the builds with music, a little Zelda, cooking (a ready-meal admittedly, but still) and eating, jabbering with Sophie and occasional minutes online.

I definitely noticed the absorbing and escapist nature of my attitude the internet. I'd think "Ooh, I'll just check this..." and the next thing I'd know ten minutes had passed and I'd visited four different sites and interacted in a few different ways. Or I'd stop to change tracks in iTunes and be on Facebook a moment later without thinking.

It felt wonderful to spend an evening being so productive. I didn't really achieve that much in the grand scheme of things, but I'd been meaning to put my desk and unit together for, literally, months and not got round to it - birthday, Tess, Christmas, Tess, Thames trip and ultimately evenings spent pissing about online adjusted my priorities somewhat.

Don't get me wrong, I'm more than happy to have my priorities adjusted, but everything on that list was productive and exciting except for robotic evenings consumed by the internet, interacting with the zeros and ones.

I'm reminded of pictures of kids sat in front of TV screens, hypnotised by cartoons. I've often derided parents that use TV as a babysitter, preferring to interact with children to keep their attention and activate their minds. This is perhaps how I see myself when using the internet - distracted, entertained, but not actually achieving much at all. I've always seen console gaming and the internet as "better" than TV because it's interactive instead of passive, but now I see the dangers of that. It may be better for the brain in terms of learning, interactivity and stimulation, but it's considerably more addictive and can take over your spare time much more surreptitiously than the old gogglebox.

The purpose of setting up a desk in my room is to move my computer in, get sound cards and software installed and connected and ready for recording live audio. This is the biggest step in motivating me to write new music and keep playing my guitar. I'd be more than happy to spend an hour an evening fiddling with beats and looping guitar riffs than wasting it away on trivialities online.

All of this, of course, doesn't change that I need the internet for various pursuits including interacting with my friends, blogging here and elsewhere and, perhaps most importantly, talking to Tess. That latter aspect is something we've discussed and while we don't specifically want to put any rigid constraints on when, how often and for how long we talk, we know to be mindful of my problem and try to work it through.

It's wonderful to have found someone so understanding and willing to work to solve both our individual issues and those to do with our relationship. It's refreshing to talk openly about things, be honest and adult, and work together for a better future, and it's helped me realise how flawed past relationships have been.

One thing I'm sure of: having caught this problem early, I'm definitely not going back down that road, for at the end of it lies certain ruin. I'm quite excited about getting my audio desk set back up, I've already started reading again before I sleep which is a great way to wind down, I'll get back into cooking and freezing regularly and before I know it I'll be "normal" again.

So here I am

sat at the internet again, about to write a post about addiction to the internet again.

When it comes to episodes of internet addiction, I've had *counts* too many to count. It's ruined careers, relationships, lifestyles and states of mind and I can feel it knocking on the door again.

I've been addicted to a talker, ICQ, IRC, a MUD, and various other services. I know I've spent a little too long recently posting on a message-board and now I have someone significant to talk to on the other side of the world I feel drawn to one-to-one chat.

My brain hinted at concern about this a few days ago during an online conversation about past addictions. It's only while trying to fall asleep for an hour last night that my up-and-down mood and fizzy morning head indicated I may be heading back towards this troublesome addiction.

The symptoms are relatively obvious now I focus on them. I've become less attentive at work - not a problem simply because my work is piss-easy, but my social relationship with my colleagues has suffered and I've noticed I've not really been listening when they're trying to hold a conversation with me - not good for someone who is trying to be a good listener in general.

My home life has changed too. Since getting broadband I've spent increasing amounts of time at the keyboard, blogging, message-board, chat, games, music, reading news and blogs and the like. Some of these activities are productive and helpful, others appear to have an ulterior motive: escape.

I've been addicted to games in the past. I've never really minded that so much, as the useful thing about the games I play is they have an end, a target to reach, a result or achievement. I see my attitude to games and chat in a similar light, the difference being that with chat there is no final curtain.

I've been addicted to junk food. I still kind of am. I've taken steps with my exercise to compensate but it's still something I'd like to shift if I'm to live my life in the best possible way.

I've been addicted to booze and weed, sometimes at the same time. Ugh. I'm pleased to be rid of those, and I'd like to take the strength I've gained in beating them and apply some of it to this impending internet issue.

So I've been doing less of the everyday things like cooking and playing guitar and spending quality time with Sophie. These are just a few of the things that appear to be suffering a decline since I've had access to the internet.

Another big indication is that my head is fizzy in the mornings. I used to get this a lot, especially when depressed, and it's something I've talked through with numerous psychological nurses and counsellors, and since I got better it's not been around. It's making this connection that has set alarms off and made my ears prick-up and listen. A few years ago I'd not have noticed this warning sign, but I'm very proud that I've listened to my brain and I'm talking about it here - it means my mental toolkit is working well and I can continue to rely on it to show me when I need to take action to stay stable.

What this endless time in front of the screen is doing is leaving me without head-space, without my home comforts, the little things I do in my spare time which make me happy and balance my day. It's assisting me in escaping some strong emotions I felt when Tess went back to Australia that I know I need to process, and it feels a bit like a sticking plaster over the difficulties of conducting a long-distance relationship. That latter point is a whole can of worms and it's not for opening now, but it certainly needs looking at in future.

Now that I've recognised the issue, it's a case of reconciling my online commitments and hobbies with my offline life. There's a few things I can do to help this along:

• My computer activities will be productive
  I've been putting off getting my audio desk set up for too long. As soon as I do this I can start writing music again, and I'm consistently excited about doing so. I just need to do it, then I can get back behind my microphone, synth, guitar and sequencer.
  Blogging is productive of course. I should continue to keep this blog up-to-date and get more involved in the colle3ctive too, which I'm really enjoying.
  
• My chats should have a purpose
  Of course, while trying to maintain a long-distance relationship that purpose is reasonably obvious, but it's so easy to sit in front of the screen for hours talking to Tess, simply because it's lovely. I spend a fair amount of time with a big wide grin on my face and I find it very fulfilling. However, it certainly has its addictive aspects and I need to find a balance that allows us to maintain open communication while ensuring we both have time to conduct our personal lives too. This is how it would be if we lived together - we'd make time for each other, and for our individual personal and social lives too. There's always a danger in trying to find such a balance that it'll swing too far one way or another, but I feel confident we can get equilibrium because we're honest and open and communicative.
  This does mean cutting back on the message-boarding and the Facebook refreshes. To an extent, both activities have a purpose as they give me pleasure, they're interactive and generally make me laugh, but they're both quite addictive and I find myself checking them regularly for updates and responses. I'm absolutely confident that over the next ten years there'll be a spate of reports of children and teens being addicted to Facebook and it taking over their lives, ruining their exams or social lives. I know this sounds like doom-mongering but I've been there, done that, and I know how easy it is to fall into the trap.
  
• I will recover the joy in day-to-day things
  such as cooking, making music, doodling, playing guitar and playing Uno with Sophie. What kind of life is sitting in front of a computer screen for all your spare hours in a day?

Ironically enough I'm about to finish this post and chat online with Tess about it. This, of course, has a purpose: not only to discuss the content but perhaps build the model by which we structure our communication to give us enough of each other to maintain the relationship, but not so much that it impacts heavily on our day-to-day lives or my tendency towards addiction. I feel that we may be losing something in this, but I don't think it's a sacrifice - more finding a balance to ensure things go smoothly for both of us.

I know it's important to look at what I'm escaping from in the near future. I must remember to do that.

We hooked up on 7th December

on her first visit. Oh man, that was incredible. We totally clicked and it was soooo intimate and sensual and fingers intertwined and, my god, that first kiss, heaven! I remember it as if it were yesterday.

We arranged another visit for four days just before she left the UK to continue on her travels. That was absolute joy. We got on famously, laughing, teasing, sharing music, history, memories... and the sex, my god the sex! As documented here I've had my issues with sex for the past ten years or so, but they all just disappeared. We were so comfortable and I totally got my mojo back. Everything between us was just so effortless.

Around this time we were aware that we were developing some pretty strong feelings for each other. Our whole friendship prior to this was based on honesty and openness, and we've continued that theme. We talked about the feelings and both agreed we didn't want a long-distance relationship, that it would be too hard, for very valid reasons. We decided to try and keep things under control in the meantime and that we'd see it as a fling and end things when she went home.

After our four days together, she went off to Europe with a view to one more night together in London when she came back, just before she flew home. As she travelled from city to city, country to country, we stayed in touch every night we could.

Various events conspired to bring us back together sooner than we expected. She travelled from Berlin to my house in about sixteen hours. So there we were, three weeks before she was due to fly home, with plans to follow the Thames for the last week.

Those two weeks were some of the most amazing days of my life. She fit in so well with our life, got on amazingly well with daughter who just seemed to accept her instantly. Writing it all out now, it seems incredible that was all so easy.

The idea, continuously, was to move apart when she went home. The week away following the river was such a bonding experience that the closer we got to her flight, the more we realised it was going to be much harder than we thought.

When we got to the check-in desk at the airport, we cried. When she walked through the gate to her flight and out of my life, I cried. When I lugged my bags upstairs and into my empty flat, I cried. I cried a lot, it hurt to think that that was it, it was over.

Her journey lasted around thirty-six hours. That was tough. When she finally arrived home we chatted, discussed the pain and the love, the highs and lows, the goods and bads. We talked about staying together, but agreed to put any discussion off for a week until our sleep had settled and our emotions had calmed somewhat.

A couple of days later I visited my best friend. We had a good chat, perhaps one of the the greatest chats I've ever had. She helped me calm down and see through the pain and picture what could be achieved if we stayed together, and what we had a chance of losing if we didn't. With a little ear-bending and direction-finding help from her, my mind was made up.

Of course we should try and make a go of it. These sparks and fireworks do not come along often, and when they do I think it's best to grab them with both hands and not let go. So here we are, me in England, she in Australia, apart but together.

I'll be honest, it's only the first week but it's so much easier than I thought it would be. Our friendship was such that we spoke most days online in one way or form anyway, so this appears to be an extension of that. I've spent a few hours beaming grins at my computer screen while we chat, we're keeping each other steady and discussing the future and generally continuing the policy of honesty and communication and... love!

I love her. Totally. I have been completely swept off my feet. She's a special one mate, truly, and I'm going to try my hardest to make it work. At the moment, it just feels... effortless.

So there's the possibility of us staying together

and however remote that chance I feel like grabbing it with both hands because being apart from her, thinking we'll never be together again, hurts so much. This was always going to happen, this pain and yearning, and I'm starting to wish we'd prepared ourselves a little better for it instead of ignoring it and putting it off until we parted. At least we might have been prepared for the sheer scale of heartache we're both feeling.

Along with the huge motivation to agree to stay together comes a fair amount of uncertainty, speculation and fear. The point of this post is to explore some of my fears in a little more detail so I can get them a little clearer in my mind.

I'm staying here
I've just got the perfect house, my family and friends are here and my daughter's family and whole support structure is here. It's crossed my mind to up sticks and try and make a fresh start in Australia but it's a big undertaking and I don't want to take daughter out of her comfort zone. So, if it were to happen, it'd mean her coming all the way here from Australia - something she's expressed a desire to do before we hooked up, but not for three years. I'm just not sure my little dead-end town is enough for her - she's a country girl but I fear there's not enough here to encourage her to put down roots.

Her parent's reaction
Before all this happened, I think if my daughter came to me at 18 and said she'd fallen in love with a 35-year old man with a 14-year old daughter, I'd have gone fucking mental. Now I've lived it, felt the love, shared the life, I can see how it works. The age difference is just that, an age difference and nothing else. She can be mature, I can be immature. We get on famously. I remind myself that there's a reasonable age gap between her mother and father which comforts me somewhat.

However, their reaction to the news that their daughter could be moving to the UK to be with a guy sixteen and a half years older than her is likely to be overwhelmingly negative. I'd like her mother to know because I think she could be a good outlet for what she's going through, but I don't know her and I'm unsure as to how she'll react or if/how she might try to help.

Time
Three years. Three years. It's a hell of a long time. The earliest she could possibly come back even for a visit has to be at least six months and that's assuming we could get the money together for her ticket. The earliest she could move here is around a year, and that's only with a huge amount of luck and/or money.

Three fucking years, my god. I'll be 38, she'll be 22, daughter'll be 17 and will start learning to drive. That all seems so far away but I'm constantly reminded that time flies. If that three years was punctuated with regular meetings and constant communication I might just be able to do it.

Distance
My god, it's a long way. Each of our meetings, however irregular, would involve around thirty six hours of travel each way plus associated jetlag for eleven- and twelve-hour time differences. A fair proportion of the time one of us is awake, the other is asleep, so internet chats are limited to particular times and will be even more limited once I get a new job and she starts university. This isn't the end of the world because the world is a smaller place now, but the distance feels like too far at the moment.

Pain
The constant ache of wanting to be with someone I can't be is not something I'm sure I can handle. The repeated missing of someone after meetings could be so difficult, even when balanced against the elation of seeing them again and spending quality time with them. Waaaah waaaaah emoooo oh god it hurts and all that yeah, but it fucking does. See? I never type like that normally.

Availability
There's two parts to this. Firstly, I feel like I shouldn't tie her down while she's about to spread her wings and go off to university to build what she's going to become in the future. I'm confident she's going to meet all manner of wonderful people during her journey through university and maybe even meet someone who she's attracted to. That hurts to think now but I'm trying to be realistic. I'm not sure it's fair to tie her down during a time when she should be finding her place in the world. Maybe she's already found it, I don't know.

Then the other side. I've recently become "me" again, these past couple of years have been so incredibly good for me in terms of self-development and rediscovering who I am and how I want to live my life. During the past six months I've become more confident in myself and my ability to live life, and also in my male... ness. Apparently, I'm attractive to some people! Who knew?! Believe me, this is as much of a shock to me as it is to you, dear reader. But since my ego was pumped and since meeting my love... well, damn, I don't know how to put this without sounding horrible. I don't know. I kind of want to get on with it. I've waited for so long to become me again, and now I'm me I want to share me. Bah, that sounds shit. I mean, if she was here, if she lived here, there'd be no two ways about it, we'd be forever. I don't know what I'm trying to get at. This whole paragraph is a mess. If you have the faintest clue what I mean, could you let me know?

Money
I'm not the richest of folk by any stretch of the imagination, and as she's heading off to university we'd be facing a long, uphill struggle to get enough cash together for regular meetings or to fund her eventual transition over here. It's not impossible, particularly if I get another job and she follows up opportunities for tutoring and stuff once she's underway on her course.
Man, that's a whole barrel of negativity right there, although I appear to have balanced many things out with counter-arguments.

What it comes down to is this: I love her, she loves me, and we're desperate to stay together because of the wonderful and effortless nature of what's been before. There are many barriers in the way, but if we can plan or foresee ways around them maybe, just maybe, we can make it work.

I've gone from high to low

in a couple of days. I feel absolutely awful, I'm crying as I write and I can barely concentrate on one thing at a time. I feel like my heart's been torn apart. I feel like punishing myself for getting so deep into something that was always going to end up hurting me.

At the start of December I met a girl. I've known her for a couple of years but we recently spent a fair bit of time together and she's more wonderful than I could have imagined. We talked and laughed and shared each other like a chocolate box. There was warmth and closeness and touch and tickle and teasing and relaxation and excitement and heaven. We spent a morning enjoying each other and an afternoon walking through a hoar frost to the local gardens, slip-sliding, solidifying our friendship, taking a hundred photos, eating chocolate muffins under gently falling ice and laughing with each other. A couple of weeks later, four more days spent in each other's arms and pockets and minds. Another couple of weeks, and two whole weeks together at home, then a week travelling around the country visiting landmarks and castles and wonderful places.

Her attention and compliments have filled me with such incredible feelings; happiness, confidence, sexuality, appeal, almost disbelief to some extent. That disbelief is suspended by the realisation that yes, this beautiful woman liked me enough to share herself with me. I keep shaking my head and exclaiming, but the memories of the time we spent together are keeping me warm and fuzzy as I sit here in my cold office.

Now she's gone and the feelings that come with the separation are almost unbearable. There was no explosive breakup, no cause for our pain other than the end of an era, a fixed period of time that neither of us could adjust. The distance between us might as well be a million miles because it feels like much much further.

I don't want a long-distance relationship; neither of us do. I've told myself a few times over the past couple of months that were she within thirty or forty miles I'd be much more open to it, but it's quite a bit further than that. I'm a touchy-feely guy. I'm almost sure I couldn't cope with the frustration of not being close enough to touch, to cuddle, to make love, whenever the temptation caught us. I've waited so long for love I fear I couldn't wait for connection if I found it. There's something thrilling about having to wait, but in this instance the waiting may be too much to bear.

I'm fighting with myself to stick to my guns and stick to our promises that we'd end it when she returned home, but my heart is desperate to open up to the idea of staying together despite the distance. We're giving it a few days for the dust to settle before we sit down to have a long conversation about the future. Between then and now I've got a dinner and chat with my best friend to help sort my head out, a big walk with my parents at the weekend and maybe a night out with friends to keep my feet on the ground. Hopefully this should all give me an opportunity to get my head straight and see things from a bigger perspective, because at the moment I feel like I'm in a hole looking out and I don't think that's the right place from which big decisions should be made.

I'm not sure whether trying a long-distance relationship will help relieve our aches and yearnings, or magnify them. I don't know if we should try and hold on to this love, despite the distance, or let each other go to try and move on. It's so hard to think with all these crazy ups and downs, highs and lows running around my brain.

Give yourself time, eh? Take your time, relax, get some rest, talk to people and see where you are in a week. Take your time.

Feelings and oxytocin

This post is a collection of draft posts I made around the time Tess and I were getting together. They cover much of January 2011 and I'm putting them here to fill something of a gap in my blog.

Warning: contains adult stuff.

Feelings. And oxytocin.

I met a girl. I've known her for a couple of years but spent some time together and she's more wonderful than I could have imagined. We talked and laughed and shared each other like a chocolate box. There was warmth and closeness and touch and tickle and teasing and relaxation and excitement and almost heaven but not quite. We spent a morning enjoying each other and an afternoon walking through a hoar frost to the local gardens, slip-sliding, solidifying our friendship, taking a hundred photos, eating chocolate muffins under gently falling ice and laughing with each other.

Her attention and compliments have filled me with such incredible feelings; happiness, confidence, sexuality, appeal, almost disbelief to some extent. That disbelief is suspended by the realisation that yes, this beautiful woman liked me enough to share herself with me. I keep shaking my head and exclaiming, but the memories of the day are keeping me warm and fuzzy as I sit here in my cold office.

These feelings have an edge, and that's what I want to write about today. The edge is almost like a precipice with me elevated and looking over into an abyss filled with love and adoration. I've been reading a little this morning about separating sex and love, and the general consensus is that men have no problem keeping the two distinctly apart, while women seem to have difficulty doing so. Let me tell you now, some men find it tough too, and I count myself among this number.

I was open with her about this. I was honest and told her it'd be very easy to fall for her, not just because of the sex but because she's a good person, kind and sweet and funny and feisty and confident and smart. I'm definitely attracted to her for these and many other reasons, but there are constraints on the possibility of anything further that are almost totally impassable.

There's a real possibility of further intimacy, and this highlights a requirement to keep my mind as casual as the sex. I'm glad I'm self-aware enough to catch this early; I know I'd be able to deal with it further down the line but I'd rather just try to enjoy her company instead of worrying too much about emotional attachment.

It was so close I could feel it

bubbling away gently under her touch. She developed my arousal for a couple of hours before taking me in hand and bringing me so far with her words and kisses and gliding fingertips. She was confident and capable and with a little guidance had me begging myself for release.

At the point I noticed it could be possible, I willed myself on. It was that enthusiasm that brought about my downfall; I was determined to please her, to show her how incredible she made me feel, to please myself and enjoy the moment to its natural conclusion. That determination seemed to trigger a reversal of the impending ecstasy and I came back down to reality with a sense of disappointment. There are a lot of feelings involved in this. I've felt them before but not explored them in depth, and I'd like to take a look at them so perhaps I can be more relaxed and learn to simply let things happen.

There's a definite fear of displeasing my partner if I fail to reach the finish. In truth, her reaction was kind and understanding, perfect for such a sensitive situation and entirely as I'd expect from this person in particular.

"We can try again."

The knowledge that we'll be meeting again, and almost certainly be taking the opportunity to explore each other further, made this episode easier to deal with. But I'm concerned that I've got myself into a mental and physical trap with the whole process of orgasm and it's going to take some work to get past it. Sharing your body with a partner is an incredible thing anyway, but this person seems more than happy to put in the effort to help me get past this, which is a truly wonderful gift.

"Men's ability to climax doesn't necessarily have to be linked to feelings of love and romance. Women of all ages, by contrast, tend to find that their sexual confidence and competence flower in a climate of appreciation and deep affection."

I've often read that some women have a similar situation when trying to orgasm with a partner. Some advice I read here is very helpful. I know exactly what I have to do to come, and I just need to feel aroused, comfortable and relaxed and show my partner how to help me there. I also need to refrain from pleasuring myself every day, and cut back on how often I use the particular works-every-time technique that is robbing me of my sensitivity.

The patience I see in this girl's heart is commendable, and hopefully she'll enjoy the process of exploration as much as I hope to.

How easy it would be to just let go

and let it embrace me, this underlying feeling of expectancy, of appreciation, of the seeds of love. I've skirted around even thinking that word until now because of how loaded it is, almost like its mental utterance could initiate the spell.

Inside me I can feel how close to the edge I am; I'm definitely attracted to her and my body and brain are letting me know how open they are to bringing her into my life. I'm attracted almost magnetically, like something's switched in my mind and I'm drawn to thinking about her. It's like she's a drug and every time I remember the touch of her fingers, her smile, her kiss, her weight as she sat on my lap... every time I remember these things I get my fix.

So, what's holding me back? As wonderful as I know it could be, there are a few important things that are keeping me from abandoning my restraint and just falling.

I don't want a long-distance relationship. I've told myself a few times over the past days that were she within thirty or forty miles I'd be much more open to it, but it's quite a bit further than that. I'm a touchy-feely guy. I'm almost sure I couldn't cope with the frustration of not being close enough to touch, to cuddle, to make love, whenever the temptation caught us. I've waited so long for love I fear I couldn't wait for connection if I found it. There's something thrilling about having to wait, but in this instance the waiting may be too much to bear.

She's young. I mean, it shouldn't matter. She's a good person, a great person, so age shouldn't matter, should it? But it does. I keep telling myself it doesn't, putting it to the back of my mind, but it keeps cropping back up. I mean, I'm flattered, hugely, and quite smug under the surface. But I imagine my daughter, at this age, sleeping with a guy of my age, and it just plain freaks me out a little. Having seen it from this side I can see how it works, how easy it is for two compatible people to connect, regardless of the age difference. That I feel right on the edge of falling is testament to that. Stuff keeps racing through my mind about something she mentioned: children. We're a billion light years away from that, I know - I don't even know where her brain is in all of this, but mine is asking these questions. Phew, that's kinda scary.

Oh, I have doubts too. Doubts about my suitability for her, about her motives, about so many things it's making my head spin. These things aren't about her as a person in the most part, but more about my past and how I've been treated by others. I know it's natural for me to question these things and it all comes down to whether I feel strong enough to trust myself, as well as her. I reckon I do.

All this is based on so many unknowns it's almost making me laugh that I'm obsessing over things, but it's an indication of the power of emotions, interaction and hormones... it's making my brain fizz. Coupled with stress about various things - my job and how I'm so fundamentally sick of it, it almost hurts to come in every day, damaging my self-esteem and making me kick myself for not sorting something out earlier in the year; financial worries about Christmas; the idea of my daughter going away for a week over Christmas which, at first, didn't bother me but the closer it gets the more it's going to be strange not having her around... all this is causing me to feel not overloaded, but certainly like I'm carrying a weight.

My, this is all starting to sound dark and morbid. It's not supposed to, because I've met someone I like, someone who shines like the sun, and I'm on the edge of thinking about possibly maybe becoming emotionally attached, emotionally available, of opening myself up to someone special. A couple of years ago this wouldn't have been possible without freaking out, or sabotaging it; that I'm even here trying to straighten my head about it all is A Good Thing. She's a star, and if nothing else, this is proof to me that I am worthy of a star's affections.

I still occasionally shake my head in disbelief

but it's certain: I just spent four nights, almost five whole days, in the company of one of the most incredible women I've had the pleasure to share myself with. She's bright, feisty, sexy, funny, artistic, positive and audacious and I think it'll be hard, but not impossible, to click with someone so effortlessly again.

We walked, played, cooked, ate, shared, giggled, hung-out, sang, danced, joked, cried, kissed, cuddled, undressed, made lots and lots of wonderful adventurous love and didn't want it to end. She helped me regain my personal and sexual confidence and prove myself human once again. She showed me I can open my mind to emotional availability and that I am attractive, appreciated and understood. I now know that, should the right woman come along, I am worthy.

We parted on the cusp of the unspoken "L-word", a flood held back only by the impervious dam of distance. We both agreed that long-distance relationships weren't our thing, and if we were closer we'd definitely try. We're gutted that it isn't going any further - except for a liaison in January - but it's so incredibly comforting to us both that we've attracted such awesome partners. I know this sounds big-headed and this is where much of the supposed disbelief comes from, but looking into her eyes like mine, sharing a smile, a moment, a connection, I realised I am half of this, this sensational, almost perfect meeting of minds and bodies, emotions and pleasures.

It's also been an exercise in emotional restraint, and continues to be an experiment in understanding and restraining the tide of emotional attachment. I know I've fallen for her; now that she's gone there's a gap, like something intangible has been removed and I feel its absence. I told her I was falling, that I'd fallen. I wanted her to know she could be appreciated, understood; here goes... that she could be loved. She's had some bad luck in the past and I hoped to reassure her that

Along with that, I wanted to show myself that I'm open-minded enough to let someone in. I spent so much of the past thirteen years pushing people away, not allowing myself to get emotionally attached for fear of being hurt, but I found it surprisingly easy to open myself up to her. I guess this is because we've spent the past couple of years getting to know each other online and we're already familiar with each other's backgrounds and issues.We were so incredibly comfortable with each other, initially as friends but ultimately as so much more. We called each other lovers and we definitely made love: gentle, caring, reciprocal, fantastic love.

Now it's ended, we're both faced with dealing with this gap, this hole we've left in each other's lives. I wouldn't have let myself and my emotions go if I weren't confident of being strong enough to handle this process, but I'm certainly interested in my feelings and how I'm going to manage. I know I can do it, but the script is unwritten as yet. I don't want to get over it completely, just to handle it well enough to leave me stable and alleviate this yearning I'm feeling.

I will always keep her, and these few days we spent together, in my heart.

I spent a few days without hearing anything

so I assumed she was keeping her distance and moving on. This sat fine with me; we'd discussed the need to let things go and I myself was trying to move on, too. The lack of contact was a little disconcerting but I was aware that if we talked to each other as much as usual, moving on would prove to be difficult.

Regardless, it was considerably tougher than I'd hoped and I constantly found myself thinking her name, spotting reminders of our time together around the flat, and missing her in my bed when I tried to get to sleep. I had an urge to pick up my guitar and I played and sang until my fingers throbbed and throat were sore - a sure sign of an emotive me. I was in the grip of something I didn't want to admit, something I tried to hide from. I could feel hormones and catalysts and emotion and infatuation coursing through my body and I know on reflection that I was crazy to try and fight it.

The day after she left I was dulling my yearning with a bottle of cider when an opportunity presented itself, an opportunity to give someone a boost and nudge myself in the direction of moving on. In a slight haze, I asked a girl out, and went to sleep. When I awoke I had a feeling of dread that it would ultimately end up being a mistake, and I was right. Over the next few hours it dawned on me that I'd been pretty thoughtless and not taken into account the feelings of the woman I'd recently been with.

I decided to tell her, though. Our friendship thrives on clarity and honesty and our short relationship was no different. Our openness of spirit, emotion and body led us to some fantastic moments and I wanted to continue that trend, to uphold the trust. So I put together an email with my thoughts on what I'd done and waited, somewhat nervous because I was aware that it could upset her.

The moment I left work, the chat on my phone chirped and it was her. She'd emailed, I read it and my heart sank. When I thought perhaps she was coping better than me, I was wrong. She'd spent the past few days missing me and fighting with increasing emotion, just as I had.

My actions had hurt and confused her, just as I feared the would on waking. We discussed it at length and I got myself really wound up. I was horrified to have hurt her, kicking myself for being a typically insensitive and thoughtless man. I take great pride in caring about other people and not upsetting them, but I'd leapt in and disappointed someone I cared so much about. I felt like a fool.

We talked it through, though, like adults. This was amazing. I kept thinking to myself, "Where's all the cloak and dagger stuff, the hiding of emotions and actions which normal relationships run on?" but I'm pleased to find that it simply isn't necessary with this girl.

Honesty. Awesome.

So she's still a little hurt and I'm still a little confused, both by the unthoughtfulness of my actions and what the future is going to hold emotionally. I'm so pleased that we've managed to stay open and conversational throughout this, and it's something I sincerely hope we can continue.

After some discussion I thought it best if I got in touch with the girl I asked out and tell her the truth, tell her that I'd got myself emotionally entangled with someone else and that it wasn't fair on either of them if we were to meet. She ultimately responded, "mildly irked" but thankfully quite positive. I'm sure I've done the right thing here because it feels right in my gut, and I'm pleased I've been adult enough to hold my hands up and admit I was wrong.

I woke up ten minutes before my alarm

feeling tense and concerned. I think I was dreaming. The feeling's stuck with me all the way to work and despite feeling quite good and level before drifting into a heavy sleep last night, I'm still a little low and worried about yesterday's events.

I'm scared that letting loose these feelings could be dangerous. We're adults, emotive and caring and competent enough to recognise when we're falling, but these feelings are strong and persuasive and could ultimately be quite damaging for both of us. It's great, fantastic, overwhelming that we feel this way but we put barriers up initially for firm, positive reasons; that those barriers have been toppled by the strength of feeling doesn't come as a surprise, but it does concern me that we may have gone too far to make the process of getting over each other much harder than we think it might be.

Maybe we were crazy to think we could keep it under control, that we could beat the carving of thousands of years of human companionship with a little positive mental attitude. When I put it like that, it certainly seems like we were. But that doesn't stop it being one of the most fulfilling, wonderful, surprising, heavenly, fun, sexy and emotionally-charged times of my entire life. It's been such an exciting journey, getting to know you as a person instead of pixels on the screen, the intricacies of your hands and fingers, the little lines next to your eyes when you smile, the way your brow furrows when you pretend to be mad, every ridge and curve of your body, every carefully-chosen word when you tell me I'm worth the universe and more.

I don't want to stop feeling like this, but I know at some point we'll have to put the brakes on and move past our feelings for each other. I never want that to be a complete process, at least not for me. I'd like to think I could always hold a little ball of our time together, our emotions, our caring and our lovemaking, wrapped in layers of purple silk with a thick coat, hat and gloves at the back of my mind.

I want to say it. Can I say it?

Later that evening, I said it

“I think I love you.”

And I did. And I do. Right there and then, my brain was screaming for more, my heart was desperate to have her back and my head was heavy at the thought that she was so far away and we’d only have one more day together. We spent the evening talking through our feelings and getting things clear.

I’m writing this in retrospect to fill in some gaps, and I feel like I’ve told the story so many times I’m going to leave it here and let the following posts take up the reins. I think I’ve covered it in most respects, and I hope this stands as a record of the roller-coaster that was our meeting. I look forward to all the twists, loops and turns to come.