So yeah, just off my phone interview and it appears I could be spending summer in London.
Or Brighton. Or some default English town I am unfamiliar with.
I’ve been so restless recently, I’ve placed so much significance on this summer, and now that I have a possible means of escape.. I’m not sure I want to go.
I’m actually genuinely glad I wont be back at the call centre in Livingston, doing the depressing rounds of the West Lothian nightlife and dealing with identity crisis after identity crisis as I bump into a million old faces in the same old places.
But I had pretty much convinced myself that it could be ok. Like, I have a boyfriend now. A fucking epic dream of a boyfriend. And I still have some good friends back home as well. In the past week, as the sun has gradually returned and reminded me of its existence, I had started dreaming of evenings spent in a park, drinking cider, laughing.. Acoustic guitars, grass, friendship, romance. Living the summer of love dream or whatever. I’m reluctant to part with that fantasy, particularly when it’s bright and I’m listening to Belle and Sebastian and missing people. But let’s be honest, the reality would hardly compare.
I’d probably end up knackered and disillusioned after another shit day trying to push overpriced b&bs on foreigners that barely understand who they have given their credit card details to before dressing to impress for another morbid evening spent observing morons in establishments where your feet stick to the floor so you couldn’t dance even if you wanted to.
Plus, aforementioned epic boyfriend will be working all summer. And it will probably be more frustrating to be twenty minutes away and unable to see him than three hours away in the same position.
As for friends back home.. if recent history is anything to go by then I’m more likely to recieve a phone call from the banker on Deal Or No Deal than the people I want to spend time with. So much stuff has changed since last summer. Although it has passed with terrifying speed it has brought so much emotional overhaul that August 07 seems like a million years ago, on another planet.
Obviously if I do end up down South - and who knows if I will? My nature dictates that not even I will until two minutes before departure – then there is also the risk of losing aforementioned boyfriend completely. This would be a tragedy on a drastic scale and I would never forgive myself if my petty hatred for my hometown and my desire to escape resulted in ruining the best thing to ever happen to me romance-wise.
He says it wont. And I trust him, to a degree. I just don’t trust myself. Not that I would ever cheat on him – for reasons that are nothing to do with morals and everything to do with just not wanting anyone else in the World but him – but I know that I will be a paranoid wreck after last summer’s catastrophe so yet again my own insecurities could be my downfall.
It’s not fair on Jamie. He hasn’t done anything to give my doubts credibility and he is nothing like ‘him’ so why should he be punished for ‘his’ mistakes? I totally didn’t realise how much last summer had affected me until I fell in love with Jamie, though. I think what I have to remember is that this is a whole new experience for me, this ACTUAL love business, so the old rules of fucking juvenile power-games ‘luv’ do not apply. I shouldn’t keep looking for patterns.
Conclusions for this summer? None as yet. Don’t lose Jamie. Yeah, that is the only plan that matters.
Tags: jamie, livingston, love, summer
