If you haven’t already you may want to read part 1.
Have you ever had such a mix of emotions that you don’t exactly know what to feel?
“I’m coming to the UK on May 21st.” This was the first thing I was greeted to when I woke up one morning in February. You see, I mentioned how often Peter and I talked, but I didn’t really specify how much we talked. We’d go to bed together on Skype. It’ll probably be considered weird by a lot of people, but that’s just what ended up happening. We’d have a Skype call open and talk until we passed out. This happened so often that it become a routine, I’d get in to bed (I’m 5 hours ahead of him) and I’d talk to him until I was able to sleep. Sometimes I wasn’t able to sleep and he’d get his guitar out and sing to me. We’d sleep on Skype, sometimes with the cameras on but always over voice chat. Generally, he’d be the last person I’d speak to at the end of the night and, most of the time, he was the first person to say good morning to me when I’d wake up, and I’d do the same for him. This day though was slightly different. It wasn’t a fleeting ‘good morning’ before I talked him in to a slumber. He was excited and energised. “I’m coming to the UK on May 21st,” he practically shouted at me.
At first there was confusion: ‘Wait, what, UK, May? What?!’ And then the excitement kicked in. The thought of meeting him was immense, and being with him in the same room. I couldn’t wait – well… I thought I couldn’t.
Initially I was over the moon, the thought of meeting him had me elevated. Actually being in a room with him, able to touch him, hug him and watch movies together without the hassle of syncing everything up, I started to mentally count the days. I was on cloud nine, as they say, and literally bouncing from room to room. Not long after that, though, I was no longer elated, in fact, I was terrified. I started to think of EVERY bad thing about myself, and a lot of negative questions started to spin around in my mind.
And then, the guilt set in. ‘Holy fuck, what if he gets here and he thinks I’m fat AND ugly, hates my face and has then wasted all of that money?’ I felt sick to my stomach and, although I was still excited at the prospect of meeting him, I was way more anxious. I was so scared that I’d lose him. The whole thing seemed bonkers: I’d never actually met this guy and yet he had the ability to rip my insides out. These questions wouldn’t go away – I had a few months yet before he got here, and not a day went by in those months that I didn’t have these questions swirling around my head. My friends were plagued by these questions. My sole focus was this and my conversations were pretty much, “Oh my God, Peter is coming in X days, I can’t fucking wait. Oh shit, but what if….” closely followed by one of my friends saying, “You fucking idiot, shut up; the fool loves you.” Charming.
The doubt consumed me and Peter noticed. Although I was excited, I wasn’t as excited as he expected me to be. It was time that I spoke to him about my concerns. He was my best friend and he needed to know how scared I was of losing him. So I put on my big girl pants and had a conversation about my feelings. For those of you that know me, this was incredibly difficult; I generally don’t discuss my feelings unless copious amounts of alcohol are involved, and even that isn’t regular occurrence. So I told him, I told him everything, I explained the doubts and my nagging insecurities, I told him about the big knot in my stomach and how much I wanted to throw up. His response: he laughed. Not a little laugh. No, this was a mighty laugh, one that comes from deep within. I sat there, listened to his laugher, first annoyed that he would laugh – I mean, this was serious. But the bloody twat’s laugh was infectious and within seconds I was laughing with him. “That’s what I wanted to see, that smile. The one I love. Now stop being a fucking idiot.”
With that I answered in the most mature way I could possibly muster. I blew a raspberry, stuck my tongue out and turned off my camera whilst muttering, “Let’s see how you see the smile now, Dickface.” (We have such a delightful way of speaking to one another, don’t we?)
After weeks of worrying, I decided that no matter what, I wanted to keep him in my life and, if nothing else, I still wanted him as a friend. It was then that I that I told him I’d let him lead the way. You see, I was so sure that my feelings wouldn’t change; I’d never felt this before. So of the two of us, it would be his feelings that would be different. As such, I told him that we would always be friends, if he wanted a romantic relationship when he got here, then he’d have to kiss me. If he didn’t, then no hard feelings, we would go on about our week as two friends. I guess, in a way, I was completely selfish but I left the ball in his court. It’d probably have broken my heart if he had chosen that, but that would have been my problem to deal with at a later date.
The next few months were somewhat of a blur. Peter and I continued to talk and game on a regular basis. Everything remained how it always was. The big lump in my stomach was still there, but I was desperately trying not to concentrate on it and instead think about other things.
Do any of you have that friend, the one that is always singing? The one that, no matter the situation, if something reminds them of a song, they will sing it? Yeah… that’s me. Because I’m on Skype all the time with Peter, he hears it a lot. One of the songs that gets stuck in my head most is the Ghostbusters theme song – and so, I randomly burst out singing it all the time. I couldn’t stop myself, not even my horrendously bad voice stopped me. There’s an unwritten rule with singing Ghostbusters and that is that, when someone sings “Who you gonna call?” the other person (if around) MUST enthusiastically yell, “Ghostbusters.” Well, Peter never does. It’s incredibly frustrating. No matter how many times I randomly sang this, he just outright refused to participate in “this madness”. His lips stayed firmly sealed and he’d shake his head in the same familiar, disgruntled way, maintaining that I would never get him to sing it. About a week before he arrived, I formed a plan and, one way or another (I’m going to find you, I’m going to getcha getcha… sorry. I’ll leave), I was going to get this man to sing this song.
You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this but, I promise, it’s not just a random statement or a devious ploy to get you all singing Ghostbusters. (You’re welcome.) There is an actual point to this. You’ll find out.
Finally, it was time for him to arrive. May 20th. The queasy feeling grew stronger, even more so when Peter finally declared that he was leaving for the airport and that he’d see me tomorrow. He was gone, ready to embark on his 15 hour journey – once you take in to consideration the hour drive to the airport and everything else. Once he’d left, it was time for me to get some of the stuff checked off on my never ending list, that I had left until the last minute. I’d scheduled to get my hair done, have a wax, and get my eye brows done. Thankfully, my sister is a hairdresser/beautician, and that meant I got this all for free without leaving the house. Nicely planned, if you ask me, since that meant that my scheduled panic attack could happen while I was getting prepped.
I dragged my arse in to bed around midnight. The plan was to sleep early so that I could be fresh-faced for tomorrow. He’d arrive at 10am and I had to wake up earlier to do the school run and shower. However, my brain had different plans. I couldn’t sleep! I was excited and nervous. The emotions that I felt were intense but, mostly, I missed Peter. That sounds ridiculous, however, this was the longest time since the day we met that we had gone without speaking. I was so used to him being around to sing me to sleep that getting used to the silence was difficult. And, generally, whenever I have something to do the next day, I can never sleep.
I woke up the next morning feeling like I’d been hit by a train, but there was so much to do. I dragged my arse out of bed and gone on with it. Time seemed to be moving slowly and I couldn’t settle myself. And then I heard it, the alarm – this sounded whenever someone was on my parents’ drive, which meant he was here! The walk down the hallway to the front door seemed to take forever. I could see him in the glass panel of the door. He was right there, waiting on the other side of the door, all I had to do was open it.
I took a deep breath, put my hand on the handle and then said, “What’s the password?”
Confused, he replied, “Password, what password?” and then my plan came in to action.
“There’s something strange, in the neighbourhood. Who you gonna call?”
“Are you kidding me, oh fuck . REALLY? I’ve travelled 15 hours for this shit.” I laughed and again repeated it. And then I heard it, the words he told me I would never hear, outside in my parents’ driveway.
I took another deep breath, opened the door and motioned for him to come inside. Before I could even say hello, he leaned in and kissed me. “Now we’ve got that out of way, hi babe, it’s good to finally see you. Now get here and hug me woman.”
So tell me, have you ever went through something similar? Had a blind date, dated online? How did you deal with the emotions of physically meeting them? did you feel similar to me? Let me know in the comments below, I’d love to hear your stories.
A huge thank you to Gabby for the awesome art at the beginning of this post.