The Day I Lost You: A heartfelt, emotion-packed, twist-filled read. Fionnuala Kearney

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       11. Anna

      Raw Honey Blogspot 13/06/2013

      Earlier today I was stopped in the street and asked if I’d take part in a television interview where they were wondering what it’s like to live and date in London. I told them, sure, I’m happy to be asked what it’s like to live and date in London.

      So, with no prep whatsoever, this gorgeous young interviewer called Faye waved a big mic at me and said, ‘So, here we have X, who we’ve just met. X, tell us, what’s it like living and dating in London?’

      So I did. I told her. I told her and her viewing public that it’s shit. That it’s impossible to meet someone in London. I’m a young, healthy, heterosexual woman and any man I’m ever interested in is either gay, living with someone, deeply involved with someone or married. There are no single worthy men. I’ve tried dating the allegedly worthy younger men and, trust me, they’re only interested in a quick fuck or they’re dull. And older men are gay or married.

      After she laughed nervously, she asked me if I’m interested in meeting a life-mate going forward and if I’d consider online dating?

      So, with no prep whatsoever, I laughed in Faye’s face and told her that I’d already tried online dating, which just confirmed for me that any interesting men are gay or married. Take Marcus, for example, I told her. We dated a few times before I found out he was already hitched. To be fair he did tell me, but, as I said, only after we went out a few times, so I said ‘Goodbye Marcus’. Then Leo. Leo was definitely not sure which way he bent and I told him I’d rather not be an experiment, thanks very much. Or of course, I told the lovely Faye, there’s always Tinder. I asked her if she’s tried the swiping phenomenon. Tinder, I told her, has the most expressive text language. There’s no foreplay; someone might just say, ‘You know you want to – just tug on my bone’, or how about ‘Wanna sit on my face?’, my most recent offering. I deliberately look into camera, tell them that dating in today’s world, and let’s not blame London, is a hoot. Great fun.

      Faye finished up gaping at me like a salmon struggling upstream. Her cameraman, thankfully, had stopped filming way before I stopped talking.

      Then I told her that monogamy is an outdated idea anyway.

      When I got to work I cried like a baby.

      It’s been over for a very long time now and still, I miss Him. I try to avoid seeing Him at all costs because it’s HARD. It is really hard.

      Here are the things I just miss:

      His feather touch.

      His voice. (He can’t sing but He has the loveliest speaking voice.)

      The sex. (With Him, He only has to touch me and I almost come. He’s ruined me for any other man. No one comes close. Forgive the pun, dear readers … )

      His jokes. (They’re awful; so old school, but they make me laugh.)

      Those lazy bed days. (There were never enough, but when we managed to snatch one together, usually in a small hotel on the river near Marlow – well, neither of us ever wanted to leave.)

      His calls. (He would call me most days; fill me in on his day, ask me about mine.)

      His hugs.

      His kiss.

      And the things I don’t miss:

      The fact that I could never just ‘be’ with Him in public.

      The fact that He has a lovely wife.

      The fact that I had to lie to people I love.

      The fact that we could probably never be together. Not really. Not in a ‘Hey, babe, I’m home, I’ve had a tough day, let’s just cuddle up on our sofa?’ kind of way. We could never have that.

      And, see, that’s really what I want.

       Comment: Hieroglyphic 24

      What a load of tosh! I’m single, living in London, heterosexual and interesting. Want my number?

       Reply: Honey-girl

      Hmm. No. You’re all right.

       Comment: Anonymous

      He’s married?

       Reply: Honey-girl

      Afraid so …