So, hi. I've just come back from a choral course up in Rugby, on which I met some fascinating people. And....I expect that, among other things, restarting a LJ is an effort of optimism on my part, because I'm hoping that something interesting may eventually arise out of my acquaintance with one of there fascinating people. But that's just hope on my part.
Sigh. I want to talk about him for a bit. Nobody's listening, so that's ok. ~sheepish look~ Don't mind me.
His name is Tom (there's always something about them) and he lives about as far away from me as it's possible to be while still in the same country. He's a wonderful singer - baritone and occasional roving tenor. He's kind. Funny. Gorgeous. He does good impressions. Ought to wear eyeshadow, although a friend (let's call him Spiky Richard) says he'd also make a good goth. Which I agree with, I just like the eyeshadow thing.
He doesn't. ~g~
He's got a girlfriend. But he does like me. (Well, he didn't run screaming, which is a start.) He kissed me. Twice. On the neck; but that was only 'cause he couldn't reach my cheek, I think. This time yesterday I'd not even arrived home from the course and I already missed him; right now it's a vague ache in my chest, and I know what that means : it means nothing's going to happen with this guy. It's not going to be either of our faults, but nothing will anyhow. But I'm still being hopeful, because...it's such an odd feeling for me...for days I wanted to tell him how I felt and I didn't because I thought he'd react badly. I thought he'd think I was only talking to him 'cause I fancied him, which was completely wrong. And then when I finally told him...he was more than fine about it.
I could say a thousand things about him.
But I want to talk about Ben, because here's the only place I will or can.
There was another guy on the course called Ben, and I fell in love with him, and spent the whole course tagging along and trying to talk to him and watching as he paid more attention to everyone else. I cried over him every day, more than I've cried over anyone since...uh...since Dominic or even since Jamie. It was all very similar to Jamie in fact - Ben and he are alike, in many ways. Hmm.
Ben. I can't talk about him much. It hurts.
If he hadn't been there, then Tom would have taken all my attention for the whole week and...maybe that would have been a good thing and maybe not. As it was, it must be weird for Tom, because I made use of his agony aunt qualities a lot, and then I turn up and say I've liked him all week.
Why am I analysing this? He's a sweetie, and if he keeps writing, then I'll be happy, even if nothing happens with him.
So, a big hello to all the guys who won't read this : Belfast John, Weird James, Spiky Richard, Ronan (campest straight guy on the planet), John Who Loved Himself, Little Alex, Teeny Henry Jenkins, Tom, Big Ed, Ed The Bitch, Hugh The Teddy Bear, Will, Alex Double-Barrelled (The Bakewell Tart), Mike Phoenix, Brickie James, Postman Pat, Marcus The Seal, Craig (Looks like David Bowie), Our George, Richard Wilberforce, Big Henry, Tweedy, James The Collar and Counter Tenor Ben.
And now I'm going to supper with my nan. Goodbye. ~g~