That’s Stella

Two days after our date, we met again at our friends party…

It was a massive party. There were people from all walks of life there. There were celebrities, rock stars and joe blows. But as far as I was concerned, it was just me, Chris and the boys.

Our mutual friend told Chris I had a crush on him. He said “I know” and smiled.

Someone interrupted their conversation and our friend couldn’t read if his smile meant there was a future.

I got really drunk and sneakily tore him away from the boys club for a private chat.

I said to him…

“I know you think I like you. But I just wanted to let you know that I think you’re a complete wanker”.

He was silent and had a straight face.

Not the reaction I was looking for.

Then he laughed. There it is! Just the reaction I was looking for.

We talked about US.

I told him I liked him.

Then came the bombshell.

He said… “You need to get over me”

I felt like I made the wrong decision having the truth talk.

I laid my cards on the table and I never would have told him how much I liked him unless I thought it was reciprocal.

In fact – this was the first time I laid my cards on the table since I was 14 and snared my first boyfriend.

He didn’t say nothing would happen – hell, it’s already started – but he kept saying I needed to get over him. To forget him. For us to go back to just being friends.

I clung to his arm, holding him tight, waiting for him to tell me he was joking,. Or to tell me that something would happen but he just needed time. Or that he was gay. Anything to make me feel better about the situation.

I felt pathetic. I couldn’t believe how quickly dynamics had changed and I was clutching the arm of someone who had always been the initiator.

I wasn’t willing to let go off his arm till I heard a satisfactory answer.

I asked him why he was doing this. Why he was going back on something that had already started.

He said that 90% was the age difference. That our 16 years age difference was “really wrong”. He just kept repeating… “really wrong”.

Really wrong. Really wrong. Really really wrong.

I told him that I could offer myself to any other 38 year old and they would jump at the chance to be with a 23 year old and that he was insane.

Yeah call me cocky.

I told him that he was a ‘complete dickhead’. He agreed and laughed. It wasn’t meant to be mean. It’s the truth.

I said he was a ‘cocky wanker’.

An ‘obnoxious creative’.

I said he wasn’t even my type.

That I had gone insane by liking him and that for the past week I had been sticking up for him whenever anyone was bagging him because he made an obnoxious comment in front of 800 people and got a lot of flak for it.

The rest of the 10% was the bombshell. He was sleeping with a married woman.

I tried to convince him that I could do a casual thing.

He said he knew I couldn’t.

And he was right.

We talked and talked. Saying the same things over and over. I hoped that the more we kept talking the more he’d realise what a mistake he was making.

I wanted us to sit down with a coffee in hand and have a deep and meaningful but we were at a loud party and I was drunk and he was drunk and all the boys were looking at us knowing exactly what we were talking about.

It sunk in and my heart broke when I let go of his arm and he walked away.