Love Is Never How You Think It Should Be

image - Flickr / bronx.
image – Flickr / bronx.

I work for a talent agency in central London. Yep. I came over on a university exchange for law and now I am a talent agent. I’m confused about my circumstances but thank fuck for that. Previously, I would awake regretfully, procrastinate for hours and finally drag my feet to a library full of pretentious, tedious people to carry out repetitive tasks so I could soon join the rat race of the overqualified and unemployed. There’s nothing wrong with studying to be a lawyer; I just hated it. Now my days consist of interviewing models and actors to find out whether they’d be able to make the agency any money as well as scouting people in the city and attending showcases. In addition, I get to converse with production companies and casting directors whilst frantically and illegibly scribbling down audition location details. Plus, not only is my boss fiercely ambitious, she is also very well connected in this prodigious city. This is great, because I get to go to high end places and network for ‘work’.

Now, this isn’t at all why I decided to write this. I’m not really into bragging about lucky circumstances, but I just wanted to set the scene. But like, I also did want to let everyone know that my job rules. Mostly, however, I’m really just here to pose yet another question about a guy. I’ve written articles in the past centered around my belief that casual sex is wrong and very difficult for women to go through with. If you want to know the truth, it’s mainly because my idea of this phenomenon is based upon my first hand experience with self-entitled males who feel they are justified in using and abusing women. But what about the reality of fucking for pleasure with someone you like, but who you know is falling in love with you when you just don’t reciprocate those intense feelings?

I was very hungover and at work. I slept at the office the previous night on a couch that gave my feet the feeling of fear as if a crocodile was about to bite them off. It was too small, basically. My boss walked into the interview room with a very strong and hot latte for which I am eternally grateful and handed me a form with a name on it and some general details.

“This next guy is a model I scouted online. He’s good looking. Find out more about him and then just sign him up. Also, you left your toothbrush in the office sink.”

I smiled apologetically and raised by eyebrows as a six-foot-three dark and sexy male entered my office and extended his hand. And we chatted a lot. He was funny, kind and totally into me despite my panda eyes and likely body odour. Anyway, he gets my number, we meet up for cocktails and I end up liking him. We text every day and it’s clear this guy is smitten.

Following this, for our second date, I met him in Covent Garden and subsequently freaked out over the progression of the relationship. Something about this courtship wasn’t right. You know when you could date someone long term and for me, we were too different, making that prospect impossible.

I told him we should end things and he stared at me with his mouth open, clearly incredibly hurt. He kept asking me why and made a scene in front the nearby Guinness drinking veterans.

After that, I just walked away, sunglasses and party dress on at 9pm trying to make sense of both the current situation, and also why the sun was up at 9pm. I’d also just been at a freak show at The Box, a club in Soho, where I’d witnessed a male body builder get naked and reveal both his boobs and his micro penis.

I was generally confused about most things in my reality. But he followed me and told me not to go, so I decided I was being ridiculous, and we went back to mine to eat pizza and hook up. Now, I have this annoying personality where for me, it’s very difficult to get involved in something I am not one hundred percent into. I over think and then fixate on a conclusion that I perceive to be the truth. I can’t pretend and I can’t lie to myself. In saying that, sex is great so why miss out on that? My question here is, do you pursue a relationship for your own convenience when you know from the outset that you won’t be able to fall in love with the person? It’s not really using someone, but it’s still going to hurt, isn’t it? And so my replies to the looks he gives me and the calls he makes telling me how much he misses me are now lies as far as I’m concerned. I’ve become just as indecent as the selfish bastards who take pride in scorning. You know, the ones who pretend to like someone more than they do in order to enjoy the intended sexual consequences. Now I’ve realised that it’s possible and perhaps even more disingenuous to do it in your own “committed” relationship.

Love is never how you think it should be, and we’re all capable of being selfish and hurting someone. Where does the difference lie? At what point are you not taking advantage of the person who loves you? I’ve heard that in relationships someone is always going to love more, and perhaps that is true. Nevertheless, the understanding that you are getting involved with someone purely because they fulfill your physical needs has the ability to tie a knot in your stomach, apparently. I’ve always relied on honesty, and have found that when it comes to relationships, any other approach will leave someone in anguish and pain and it’s just not worth it. Nevertheless, when you take a chance on any lover, there’s still the possibility that the unlikely will happen, and that you’ll be the one setting your insides on fire with any strong liquor as you attempt to mend your own sorry, broken heart. For now, though, while he smiles at me and caresses my hand, there’s something that’ll be pulling me away, but it’s not enough to stop me. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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