There are some days at the office that feel like time is not moving. Usually this means that at some point it will go crazy, but right now it is so quiet here that it is almost unreal.
Yesterday I had a lonely day. I was doing a lot of writing at work, which means that my office door was closed and the phone unhooked. No radio either. Mobile on silent too. I wrote 7 press releases for the theatre productions we will have on the fall. Crap I tell you. It took me eons to come up with brilliant sentenses like I should. My heart was not into it. Then I left, went to the dressmaker, picked up the rest of my clothes, then had my therapy session, and then I still had not decided what to do for the evening. Angelos has his night out with the boys, and as usual, when he goes out with the boys, he tries to make me go out too cos he hates feeling I am home alone.
I actually wanted to go home right after therapy, but I decided to go and see some clients of mine who have been bugging me for not going out for a drink with them.
So I was there and I am sure that at the end of the night they were thinking what a sociable and nice woman I am, while I was only physically present in reality. Sometimes I am really amazed by my ability to be nice and sociable in casual outings with clients, while in my mind I am making lists of things to do at home, recipes I should try, books I want to read, or simply am singing a song in my head by changing the lyrics to nauthy things about the situation I am in. Bad bad girl, I know!
Yesterday morning at home I searched in over 150 floppies to find the pictures of my niece's first 2 days. I had a digital camera back then and I had taken tons of pics. My sister in law remembered them and I tried to find them but they were nowhere. Who knows. They will kill me though.
What I found though were chat logs from my old chatting days. Pictures from my chat friends. Lots and lots of pictures of this particular someone. I met an Englishman online in 1997. An amazing creature of brightness, brilliantness (does this word exist? it should though to describe him), sensuality and colours. I loved him dearly. I lusted him burningly. And I miss him terribly.
You know sometimes you meet someone who really sees in you things you have never discovered about yourself. And yet, after some time, you realise that you were not meant to be together, and yet you will always be together.
There is not a day that I will see something or hear something and will think of him. But we barely speak anymore. And sometimes, like yesterday and today too, this hurts some.
He is a man who adores adjectives. Can you realise how much colour a person has to have in their souls to appreciate adjectives? He was the one who taught me that a handful of soil and a seed produces so much beauty and life. I still have seeds he sent me and I still plant his flowers each spring. On the winamp in my computers, both at home and work, I have the almost 7 or 8 hundrent songs he mp3'd for me for my birthday. I hear these songs every day
What we had was ideal, protected, in the sense that we had no bills to pay, no dinner to cook, he did not leave hair on my sink, I did not complain to him about forgeting to take the garbagge out. And back then I was really a lot more thin than I am today. Which made it really easy for him to bring out the fox in me a lot more than any other man.
He was not the love of my life. Angelos is. But he was a love I will always carry inside my heart for as long as I live, because he was indeed, and still is in a very personal way, the love I never know I was able for. A love that went beyond looks, beyond style, beyond nationalities, beyond cultures, beyond touch, beyond smell, beyond eyesight, beyond hearing. A love that conquered my heart and made it richer.
I really dunno why I am writing all this here. Maybe cos I reread so many of our chats yesterday morning, that today, with so much quietness here at work, I really ached for a chat with this witty, exceptionally unique man.