He had moved to Scotland. He wasn’t happy in London and even though I knew he wasn't completely happy, at the time I didn’t know why. I thought that maybe I could give him a reason to be happier at least. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Mr Scottish was very grumpy but there was something quite sweet to it at times. Other times I just used to let him vent it out. If things didn't go his way he had to moan for a good while but then he was fine.
His email, if I remember correctly, stated that he needed time to think and sort things out. As far as I was now concerned it was all irrelevant. When you’ve been dating someone, regardless of whether it’s official or not, they deserve to know what’s going on. Someone who has time to constantly ‘check in’ on Facebook and update their status is clearly not in a state of despair. So I left him to it. We messaged occasionally nothing major. Then a few months later he said he was coming down to London and we should meet up for dinner. All fine by me, I wasn’t angry at him anymore; I no longer expected anything from him. We were just friends now...
To be fair, any time I asked for advice from him he’d always given me the time I needed till this very day he’ll talk me through anything. Even when I’ve approached him with the craziest of ideas, he’s always given me the time to hear it out and talk me back into reality (if needed). But also never rubbishing anything I say, never making me feel like my ideas are nonsense and always reassuring me, letting me know that I’m capable of greatness. I appreciate him probably more than he knows, so dinner it was.
Mr Scottish left it up to me to pick a restaurant (never a good idea). He was staying in Kings Cross so I attempted to find something around there. Now, there are certain things that I dislike, hate would be too much of a strong word to use, dislike is sufficient enough. For example I dislike supermarkets. The fact that everything is spread out over several different aisles annoys me. One thing is in aisle four and the next in aisle ten, its nonsense! I’m not sure if I expect there to be one long never ending aisle or for the things I need to just magically appear in my hand once I arrive… I dislike restaurant menus. I just can’t be bothered to read them… And I dislike having to choose a restaurant to go to, though now it’s not so bad if I have to pick, but back then I really disliked it…
Nevertheless… I came straight from work feeling nervous about the Indian restaurant that I had picked and also wondering why I picked Indian when their menus are just too much for me to handle (?!) I love Indian food but really dislike, maybe even on the cusp of hate, their menus. Also, don’t ever arrange to meet someone at Kings Cross; it’s the worst station to meet at! There’s Kings Cross, then there’s St Pancras, two different stations at are at the same stop… Somehow you can get off the tube at Kings Cross and end up in a queue for the Euro star at St Pancras station! Yes I’ve done it and I’ve also taken a train to Luton airport when in fact I needed to go to Elstree… It’s just confusing!
Anyway, I manage to find my way out of the station and see that I have a missed call from him. I call back and we figure out where to meet each other as we were both at different ends of the station. Making him out in the distance I started to feel a bit anxious and nervous but I wasn’t sure why… On closer inspection he looked different, sexier and I couldn’t tell what it was at first. Then he hugged me and my stomach flipped, I don’t think I’d realised how much I’d missed him until then… As we began to walk towards the restaurant I realised what it was, why he looked so different, he was happy! I’d never seen him be totally happy with no grumpiness involved. This was going to be interesting…
The restaurant was … well… empty. (I told you I’m no good at picking!) For a split second I thought Mr Scottish was going to refuse enter (it was near diabolical) but he didn’t. He made light of the situation and as always made me laugh… So dinner was really fun; it felt comfortable almost like old times but better. This was the new Mr Scottish, the man who just seemed lifted and content.
Dinner was over far too quickly, I wasn’t ready but time was up.... that was it, it was over. He was gone. I didn’t want him to go, but I also didn’t know how to ask him to stay because I’d be asking him to stay just for me. Would that have been a selfish thing to ask? Or to reconsider the notion of us… Was there ever even an us, a proper us? I just didn’t have the words but at the same time I wanted him to say it…. I guess I wanted him to want me enough to stay.
But that was it, He was gone...
