August 7, 2010

ELIZABETH ROSE

“For ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad” – Aldous Huxley

Last month we did weekly recaps of our first fringe month (to see them click here, here, here and here). So, those of you who browsed some of our dating past then (or the first time around in January), will be familiar with the name Finn. This is the hairy, Irish man who moved me well past my comfort zone at the end of last year. What started off frustratingly slowly, became hot & heavy physically and then having piqued my interest beyond his nether regions and talented tongue… he acted like a total bastard.

Under normal circumstances this would be the end of it; but Finn is under my skin. Even these many months on, his face still invades my private fantasies. It’s annoying to say the least. I am not one to often admit weakness and especially not for a man. But I do have something to admit, dear Readers. He is the itch I can’t scratch, my weakness, my kryptonite, my nemesis; and so I have seen him since he broke my heart.

I’ve not just seen him of course, I have drunken texted my fantasies, I’ve played them through with him in person and I have woken in his arms. Before you all get concerned, I had permission!

You see, I’ve left the fair city of Toronto and returned to my native London. So my final weeks in the T-dot were also my final weeks with Finn. I can do no damage with an ocean between us? Surely…?

It seems I can.

Drunken fantasy texts continue. They must be great for his ego, but just leave an edge of embarrassment with me the following morning. Sex in person is out of the question, but phone sex is possible….

So we come up to the present, to last weekend, when Finn and I were engaged in a little telephonic titillation. I was “talking him through the process” on Sunday evening, allowing him to concentrate and waiting for my turn (ready with fresh batteries to accompany his narrative), as we have previously found it more satisfying to take turns than attempt pleasure in parallel.

He concludes.

“Oh hang on, I don’t have a tissue. I’m gonna have to go and I’ll call you back.”

He hangs up.

I wait.

I get bored, frustrated and out of the mood.

I text him “?”.

No reponse. Nil, nothing, zip, zero.

Two days later, a text to ask “How are you doing?” I was annoyed with him, but was still going to reply later in the day. Then finally, a moment of clarity came, from the most unlikely of sources.

You see, my flat mate and I were watching a recent episode of the Hills. (The one where they all go to Costa Rica for the weekend) Anyway, a character on there has “that guy” – the ex who treated her like hell and yet she just can’t shake. And so, Justin says to Audrina something about how romantic the place is and asked if she would ever come back to Costa Rica. She pauses and says “No, not with you.” My flatmate and I applauded, we were so pleased for her.

And then it struck me, why wasn’t I walking away from Finn. He’s on a different continent and he still gets the opportunity to leave me unsatisfied and frustrated and I’ll admit it – used. So, before the moment passed. I replied to Finn “I’m good, thanks. I think we’re done though, it’ll be best you don’t contact me anymore.” And I deleted his contact information.

Obviously, this has prompted a series of calls, texts and emails – but I’ve ignored them all. So far we have had confused, angry, cajoling and insulting. I was almost weakening on the grounds of “he must really care to be this annoyed” when the final blow came.

“I just think it’s a real shame, I always felt we could have been something”

WTF – really? After a good year of playing me, when was this magic “something” going to happen?

How about when you stopped playing rugby, got out of shape and went from hot via cuddly into chunky and then rolled straight on into fat. You see the last time I saw Finn, his washboard stomach and to die for arms were gone. He was cuddly, but I still found him very attractive. However, word from my spies is the progress sped up after my departure (I may have been his only exercise) and they didn’t want to be the ones to tell me until after I cut the cord, but Finn got fat.

So lads and lasses, take a leaf out of Audrina Partridge’s book. Just say no. (Then hope he gets fat!)

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