I wish I could tell you how sorry I am, and how grateful. I feel like I’ve had your hand on my shoulder all the way through this, and I can’t tell if or how or why I deserve it, but I am so unbelievably touched that you think so. I wish I could ask you for more advice but I can’t without breaking down into tears and anyway, there are some things you can’t tell me, and some pieces of wisdom that cannot really be shared by word of mouth alone. I will learn some things only by experience and up to this point, experience has often come too late. I am stubborn, and difficult, and there are certainly some lessons I have had huge difficulty even starting to learn. There are some lessons I haven’t learnt yet and by the time I do, if I do, it will be far too late.
I wish I could tell you how much I have enjoyed this, really, honestly, truly. I wish I could express how filled with regret I am that enjoyment is not enough, that words on paper are what is needed, and these words written here aren’t the kind of words that will cut the mustard. I wish above all that I could come back and do this again and acquit myself better this time round. You’ve given me chance after chance and it’s not your fault that at this point in time it was never quite going to be enough. I have loved this. I have fought it, I have resented it, I have been arrogant about it and overwhelmed about it – sometimes in the same breath – but it is a part of me now and even when it is done I cannot simply walk away, not quite. I would miss it, like a limb, like a lobotomy, beloved and strange and compelling. I simply have to keep going now, with my head held high, however keeping my chin up is going to be when I could cry for the fact that at the end of the day it is not just my shortcomings and my own capricious stubbornness that have got me here but the fact that actually, this was a challenge to which I could not qutie match up. I so very much wish I could express to you all of this.
I will have to find an apple – and thanks for all the fish,
You may well have heard this radio recording or seen the series of texts which features in the recording . In brief, it’s a series of texts from a girl after a date which just turn increasingly crazy in that post-date are-we-going-to-have-another-date limbo – ranging from optimism to despair at his lack of a reply, a series of insane apologies, anger, rage, hope, another invitation on another date, more apologies, rage and despair.
I can’t really convey the whole thing so you’ll just have to listen to it/read it and I suggest you do. On one level, it’s quite funny. If this were genuinely a spoof, it would be hilarious. But every time I see mention of these texts on the internet, I just feel very sorry for the woman involved. Clearly she’s been on a date, liked her partner and thought something was going on which wasn’t. I can completely understand the rollercoaster of emotions she goes on – we’ve all been there, although I think most of us wouldn’t narrate that rollercoaster via text, pretend we were sending ‘wrong number’ texts to make said date jealous or worried, or wind up outside our intended’s house in the small hours to ‘apologise’ or ‘sort things out’. Arguably poor JJ could have behaved better.
To be honest, that’s pretty much it. I recognise the feelings she obviously felt in the situation, she didn’t handle it well but equally she clearly knows that, and the whole thing went badly wrong. That would be sad enough and I hope she had better luck with the next guy. But how much worse must she have felt when Kevin posted the whole thing on the internet, and it went viral?
Frankly, JJ, you might be a little loopy, but you deserve way better than Kevin. We can all sympathise, and frankly I think what Kevin did was completely out of order. I hope the poor girl has better luck (and manages to behave more calmly!) next time. But meanwhile I don’t think it’s nice of us – as human beings who by and large consider ourselves fairly reasonable, decent types, good friends to have, and so on – to laugh at this. Or is that squeamish of me?