If you love me, let me know…


heartbroken woman

What’s that song?  “If you love me, let me know. If you don’t then let me go”.  Well, I’ve been monumentally let go, as per usual. This time though, my turbulent (and generally unsuccessful) dating diaries had a bit of a twist. Navigating the grey and dreary landscape of the opposite sex just wasn’t doing it for me anymore – that’s right folks, I fell head over heels in lust with a girl. 

Before you read on, I confess that this is more of a therapeutic outlet for me than a blog post designed to enlighten and inspire. I really needed to talk it over, and it just so happens it’s fallen on your eyes!

I’ve always been very open about the fact that I’m a personality kind of gal – man or woman, it’s your mind that will woo me more than what you look like or what gender you are. But this was my first proper adventure into the realms of a same sex relationship (whoops! I forgot, it’s not a relationship unless you’ve had ‘the official talk’ – my mistake), so it was a bit of a learning curve for me.

So, flashback to a friend’s birthday party, and cue the entrance of a feisty, pretty lady who instantly captures my attention at an event where frankly I had absolutely no interest in meeting anyone. But that’s always the way isn’t it? One thing leads to another and before I know it we’re exchanging numbers the next morning whilst I hang my head over the toilet basin; all hopes of appearing attractive shattered (although this image was long gone after I’d drunkenly donned my dinosaur pyjamas the night before). Still though, something seems to have won her over, and before I know it, I’m heavily invested in a continuous texting conversation, with daily phone calls thrown into the mix.

We’re from totally different backgrounds and are totally different people, and yet somehow it works. We talk and talk for hours, or we just sit on the phone in silence. We don’t see each other too much as she lives about two hours away, but when we do she transforms from oozing confidence to a nervous wreck struggling to look me in the eye until she’s had a drink. She gets frustrated and tells me I do something strange to her, and she doesn’t know why she gets like this with me. Meanwhile I’m the daydreamer, so I get swept up in the moment, carried away in the whirlwind of magic; together we’re caught up in the throes of a beautiful roma— oh wait, no, that’s just me.

The above all happened, only it turns out the other half of this dating duo was determined to emotionally disconnect, and it only got worse as time went on. I don’t blame her for the way she feels, she’s been screwed up and messed about all her life. She liked me, but in the end she said she just couldn’t give me what I wanted – and that I deserved so much more. She’s got it in one – I do deserve more. But right now, the hurt is still pretty raw and all I want is for her to text me, ring me, race down in her ostentatious white convertible Audi TT to tell me she’s changed her mind. Gutted just doesn’t cut it.

So here I am, writing this after the happiest (and let’s not lie – MOST TUMMY-TWISTINGLY STRESSFUL) time I’ve had in several years has come to an end. I’m really sad, but I’m determined to see the positive in it. Some of these positives are yet to materialise, but I can already list a couple!

Firstly: I can finally accept the fact that I’m attracted to both men and women. No question about it. I don’t just think girls are pretty, I’d genuinely like to date one. This can only be a good thing, if only for the fact that it increases my selection to choose from! It’s taught me something about myself, and it must mean some great adventures are ahead.

Secondly: it’s brought a completely new level to my relationship with my Dad. My Dad and I have always been patchy to say the least. Neither of us are perfect and sometimes I could happily go a year or more without speaking to him because he makes me so anxious and stressed. Sometimes he’s been the cause of lots of pain. It’s taken a while, but since our last fallout, we’ve gradually started to build back up to some sort of resemblance of family. The other week though, he was a Dad. A REAL one. I told him that I was dating again, and I told him it was a girl. I didn’t know how he would react and to be honest, I didn’t really care – I just wanted him to know so I could normalise it a bit in my own mind. I didn’t see why I should have to hide it.

(On a side note, I also told my Mum – my favourite person in the world…and I think she’s still ‘processing’ it. Not the reaction I had hoped for.)

Dad – he was so good! He told me he was really excited, and then one day he called when I was going through a rough patch, and I opened up to him. I told him how I couldn’t get her to commit to seeing me more than once every three weeks, and that her guard was getting increasingly higher. In truth, he flipped! There was a lot of profanities which I won’t repeat, but it all boiled down to the fact that he didn’t want me to get hurt. He told me to stand up for myself, grow a backbone, and make sure I set the ground-rules so I didn’t get walked all over.  I’ve never seen that protective side of Dad. I’ve never felt protected by anyone – I just thought I had to do it all myself. That was the best moment I’ve ever had with him. And I followed his advice. It might not have worked out how I wanted it to, but it’s made my heart feel a little fuller to know that he’s got my back. I’ll try and always hang onto that, even when the shit hits the fan.

So, there we go – another one bites the dust, and I’m back to being the Bridget Jones of my friendship group. There’s undoubtedly been a few lows, and I’m still struggling to eat (consuming wine isn’t a problem though…), but the time I had with her was incredible and I wouldn’t change it.  

Thanks so much to the writer of this blog post for her honesty and courage to share.  If you too have a story to tell, I’d love to hear from you (drop me a message to laura@womenaloud.co.uk). 



Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.