Rear-view mirror- objects are larger than they appear

Ok, it’s been lurking at the back of my head for too many days (3), it’s screaming to get out, so, people of blogland I give you: 2004: the retrospective. So sorry.

January started on a high note with the birth of this blog, which I believe was an immediate side effect of watching the Cheeky Girls perform on Top of The tops. In January, I spent a lot of time on the phone and exchanged over a hundred emails with the object of my affection. I also waited for the outcome of the Green Card programme and I worked a lot and pondered over where my life was going. I crossed out every day in my diary.

February was less lumpy than it generally tends to be, since I had enough saving coupons to get a 4" space on a plane and propel myself 6000 miles away, in order to enjoy love, the exhilaration of life plans, amazing sex and quality sushi in the little city by the bay. I watched gay couples come out of City hall with a marriage licence that would later be annulled. I harboured a not-so-secret wish that I could be just as gay. When I came back, besides pondering over where my life was going I wondered how to keep up with it. I started taking extra vitamins, magnesium and Omega 3, and I crossed out every day in my diary.

March was as March usually is, with an idea of Spring hovering, and not much Spring happening. I probably caught a cold and wrote a bad haiku about lemsip. I also spent a lot of time on the phone and exchanged over a hundred emails with the object of my affection. I kept waiting for the Green card. I started panicking about getting one. I started panicking about not getting one. I started panicking about panicking, and about my girlfriend not loving me anymore as a result of my irresponsible panic. I stayed in and paced a lot.

April was an anniversary and a birthday, so with the rest of my coupons I sent myself over there again. I tried to explain the panic. I cried and blubbered and let it all out. She said she'd be there for me; as long as it didn't last too long. She took me to a hot spring retreat in the mountain and we floated in a pool of warm water under the stars, so I calmed down for about half an hour. The panic stayed in and paced a lot. After I came back, I doubled up the vitamins, the magnesium and the omega 3, and crossed my fingers for a green card. Oh, and I spent a lot of time on the phone, too.

May was as May is, full of promise. I most certainly caught another cold. I uncrossed my fingers long enough for the blood to flow, then crossed them again, for the Green card. I bought more vitamins. I worked. I phoned. I emailed. I waited. The fits of panic had by then turned into a constant state.

June happened, I think. I phoned, waited, emailed. My March fear turned out to be true: my girlfriend was getting fed up of me panicking about moving to the other side of the world and leaving everything behind. We argued on the phone. She cried. I cried. I felt that if things couldn’t be simpler it was probably my fault. I wasn’t strong enough, determined enough, daring and clever enough. In spite of the vitamins, which are nothing but superstition.

In July, I went to France and never wanted to leave again. The Green card deadline was past anyway. I wanted to stay in my grandmother’s house and help fix the roof, feed the chickens, do the gardening, far from phones and computers.
I kept looking at the LHR-SFO return ticket I‘d bought, and I doubted a lot. And then I went anyway, because I was in love, and to me that means always trying, not holding back, trying to not reason, and above putting my trust in the one I love. Perhaps that's also superstition.


August was, if not a conflict, a paradox. A. took me to the warm hot pool in the mountains under the stars again. The sex was amazing as always; something gave in me and I felt that it would get even better; I was hit in the face with all the reasons why I had fallen in love with that woman. Simultaneously I realised how much I’d tried to live up to the woman she thought she’d fallen in love with. I realised I was failing. It was probably my fault. I panicked. We fought. For the first time in months, I yelled at someone in anger, and fear.
I went for walks to the park with a yellow epileptic dog and bought second hand books. And I flew back for the last time.

September was bleak. September was the end of the phone calls, the emails, the waiting, the plans and hopes. I slept a lot. No more panic.

In October, November and December, I had dreams of throwing up.
I counted the days since the break up and admonished myself for not recovering sooner. I bought orange clothes. And I applied for a Green card.