Ever had one of those friendships that sits on the cusp of something more?

Having fallen hopelessly in love with a popstar, yes this story does start that way, or rather that wasn’t really the start… OK, let’s go somewhat from the start.

Ever had one of those friendships that sits on the cusp of something more? Sharing secrets, long phone calls, lots of banter which border on flirting and the kind of advice you can’t get from your girlfriends, an intimacy that confuses you and the inevitable drunken kisses where you try to work out where you are, friends or potential lovers, dare I say soulmates. At times you have a boyfriend and you feel it a little bit less, at times he has a girlfriend and you feel it a little bit more. When you’re together it feels like friendship, yet when you’re apart you imagine that maybe, just maybe, it’s oh so much more. Well obviously, or I wouldn’t be laying this here scene for you, I had one of those. A friendship that spanned continents (well ok Europe), weathered many partners, quite a few awkward moments (waking up next to a good friend when you didn’t quite have the balls to go through with it), a million facebook and messenger conversations and many eye gazing moments where you wonder what would happen if you kissed. Will he? Won’t he?
I go to his first gig and many more over the years and I tell him that one day he will be famous, one day he is going to be a real superstar. I believe in him more than I had ever believed in myself. But he believed in me enough for the both of us. I secretly love him so much that I buy all his records and secrete them away, I want him to sign them so I can show them to him one day when he has made it, but I don’t tell him that. He would send me song lyrics with all the words I ever wanted to hear, only I didn’t want to hear them in a song.
Then in true male fashion (excuse the sexism) he finds a gorgeous girlfriend and the friendship falls way, way by the wayside.

Whistle on a few years and he’s now a popstar. At this point I’d like to congratulate myself on my foresight. Somebody, maybe me, thought it’d be fun to ‘catch up’ and he looks more beautiful than ever and as charming as always. An evening of reminiscing, some light flirting and relief to be in the company of someone who you don’t have to pretend with, ok I pretend a little bit, leads to a full on transformation. I am no longer 25 with boyfriend, no I am 19 again, and the does he, doesn’t he angst, will he, wont he text back despair, has led me all the way back to acne. Seriously I feel like it’s a medical discovery, it is teenage angst that causes spots nothing to do with age or hormones. Some part of me takes over my rational thoughts and convinces me that he feels the same, that even though he has Russian supermodels to date now, really it’s me he’s always loved. I felt it, didn’t I?

As the weeks go by, post the best non date of my life where I smiled all the way home and felt that something magical inside, thoughts of fate and destiny swilling around this sick mind, he doesn’t get in touch. Doesn’t respond to a friendly text. Doesn’t ask for that drink before Christmas he discussed at the end of said non date. The rational mind fights with the fairytale to tell me what we all know, if he likes you, he calls. That simple. Yet the fairytale mind goes rogue, comes up with many explanations, not the ‘he may have lost his phone’ variety, I’m not that stupid. The ‘maybe he does like me but it put off by the fact I have a boyfriend’. Rational right? No, not really, if he likes you, he’s going to go for it whatever. The small inconvenience of a boyfriend being in the way never bothered this one before. Arrogant sod that he is.

So herein lies the conundrum, my heart says yes and my head says no, he’s not interested. What to do, what to do…Oh I know I have stumbled across the perfect solution which will give me all the answers on whether my intuition or my head is right. A few years ago, a long term boyfriend shockingly dumped me. Perhaps because it was the first time I’d been the dumpee (perhaps because he was too spineless to give me a real reason for breaking up), I remained convinced, for oh about 5 years now, that he had still loved me after we broke up. Call it intuition. So my master plan, if you haven’t guessed it already, was to contact old boyfriend in France and ask him if this was true? If he said yes, then my intuition and my ‘mandar’ are all in alignment and the pop star, he really does like me, always has. If not, then I will know to follow my boring, sensible, based on fact not feeling head. He loves me, he loves me not…

Ex boyfriend in France came back with this sparkly little gem; “Love no, lust yes. In the words of Paris Hilton; You’re hot”.

And that was the end of that one.

Mademoiselle Blow

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