1000 characers or less to heartbreak

Well, today, I decided to make a bold statement of intent and signed up to a well-known on-line dating web-site.  Don't get me wrong, I don't intend to use it, and in any event you have to pay for a subscription to contact other members, which I'm not going to do so the whole exercise is entirely academic.  In fact, the whole point was that it was academic - describe your perfect match in 1000 characters.  A challenge beyond the tasks of Hecules surely, but it went a little something like this:

"Someone who likes talking about things: discussing them and analysing them.

I want to meet people who cry in films because the music is just "so", and read books that they hate and want to talk about them any way.

Someone articulate and well read, and learned and enthusiastic and talented. Someone who makes me feel inspired everyday to get out of bed and be amazing.

Someone who know how to hold hands properly (see Franny and Zooey), and who doesn't care that the initial infatuation is just the intent interest in another's life (see The Heart of the Matter). I want someone who knows which vegetables that Tess pulled, and the reason why Room should have been a novella. I want some-one who watches films with respect, but knows when they don't deserve it. Someone who is not afraid of being aggressively intelligent, or heart-breakingly vulnerable.

Someone who will get up at 6 in the morning to go for a run, or go to bed at 3 in the morning because there are still important things to say. Someone who is an idealist and a realist and doesn't see the contradiction.

Or failing that, I want someone who this that all of the above sounds amazing and wishes that's the way they had lived their life all along. "

I stopped and put down my metaphorial pen. 

I already know this girl and she is a thousand miles away, figuratively and literally.  I already have this woman in my life.  She's already at the end of a telephone line, or the click of an mouse.  I already know this girl's merits and her flaws, her strength and her weaknesses.  I can flatter her and lie to her and tell her painful truths about her and about me and about us.  I can climb inside her mind and nest there feeding on her ideas, and I know the warmth of her skin and softness of her heart and the steel in her mind.  I have encompassed her and she has devoured me. 

She exists, she exists, my heart screams.

I know this girl, and I know that she is already married. 

And so we come back to the girl.

I am surrounded by amazing people, and in ignorance I pass them over as mere friends.  Because of my recent "Event" I have been spending morre time talking to my friends than I bothered to do so for years. Having removed a huge part of my life, I suddenly have a huge amount of emotion whip-lashing around and more importantly, a huge amount of time in which to think and reconsider and doubt. 

To avoid the inevitable self-reflection and regret, I have been trying to fill my hours with everything I can. So far, this has meant calling as many of the friends I have never spoken to for months as I can, and sleeping on the sofas of all those who are close even to let me at short notice.  The wonderful thing is that - having given a definitive negative to the query as whether to I want to talk about "it" - I spent more time talking about my friends, showing interest in their lives, than I have for far too long.

Being in a relationship makes you emotionally selfish; you spend so much time investing in one person, and opening yourself up to one person, that the need to share with everyone else becomes secondary, even tertiary.  Suddenly all the little relationships - the friendships nutured over years, or the ones that need nothing but a rugby match and four pints to sustain - all those smaller human interactions are suddenly crushed by this enormous Relationship.  I never even noticed I was doing it.

So in the last few days I have discovered that one of my friends in the Director of a School of Governers in Hackney; another is the author of an award-winning Food blog;  a third is on the committee of a governmental financial regulatory advisory board.

And, I have a friend who is an award-winning film maker.  Last night, for the first time, she showed me her movies.  Six shorts, all of varying quality and style; some shocking, some placid; all touched by genius.

These films ranged from tense sci-fi to rom-com; surrealist to harsh-lit reality.  They were incredible little snap-shots; really perfect.  I was astonisheed and humbled by the quality of her work.  I have seen full-length movies that didn't have the emotional depth or dramatic, narrative arcs of these 5-10 minutes image paintings.

It completely changed the way I view her:  I know she is whip-crack intelligent, and charming and enthusiastic but for years, I have seen her as a bit free-spirit and ditzy. Maybe I'm just patronizing and chauvanistic but I never realised there was anything so "solid" behind this front - maybe she cultured this facade, maybe I assumed it myself.

It was humbling.  I'm looking forward to debasing myself further.  I love my friends. I'm looking forward to loving them more.

Game Plan

You've got to really want it. If you don't really want it, it'll never happen.

Mental preparation is key. You've got to visualise the whole thing, every eventuality. Don't get bogged down in trying to memorise every different angle you'll never do it. Too many ways it could go. Prepare; don't over prepare.

This isn't going to be easy. However far in advance you start, by the time the last week ticks down your stomach will be in knots; it'll be difficult to keep food down. Try but don't force it down: enough to keep you going. Any more will leave you sick.

In the days leading up, make sure you get the right advice. Talk to your mentors, get the right coaching. It's important not to get inside your own head too much. Even just chatting with friends to distract yourself. People might try and change or plans, or get over-exited and give too much encouragement. Don't let yourself get over-confident. This going to be hard and it's going to hurt. A lot.

When it comes down to it. Go with the obvious plays first. They've been used time and time again. There's a reason for that. If she gets hysterical, that's perfect. Let her build up steam then cut her down. If she tried logic that will be tough. Remember this isn't about pro versus con; this is a fight for your life. Stay strong, hear her out then make it clear, make it final and go.

This is how you break up with some one.

Everybody gets one

There's no good time for a mid-life crisis. I mean, there are better times than others. Like when you are 35, have lots of liquid cash and no dependants. No-one wants to realise they've wasted their youth at 55 - because, frankly whatever the New Yorker's been telling you, life does not begin at 60. It begins as soon as you work out that getting good grades means a good univesity means a good job means disposable income. Or the chance to help people. Or be a photo-journalist. Or a hippie. Or whatever this particular decade's arbitrary aspiration of choice is.

I've decided to go early. I'm young, money to spare, and still in good working order both in terms of infrastructure and software.

The world's my oyster (apparently). Despite being a quote which most take to imply open opportunity, the phrase actually originates (like so many other pithy phrases) from Bill Shakespeare.

Merry Wives of Windsor: Act 2, Scene 2, Line 2:
Pistol: Why then the world's mine oyster/Which I with sword will open.

The oyster cannot be merely taken, it must be prised from its shell. With force and action only may the world be opened to you and its pearls harvested.  I think I have taken the world and its treasures for granted too long.  It's almost certainly only child's syndrome but I've been reliant on things being handed to me for too long.  My sword is unseathed - but where to place it.

Career? Relationship? Country of Residence?

Everyone gets a chance to make a change - to pursue their dream, to fulfil themselves, to write their Booker prize winner. Some people get lucky and have more opportunities, but everyone gets one. 

The problem with writing a book is, you actually have to write a book.

The problem with writing one book is, you really need to write another one.

Step One of Twelve

My moniker is grey-eyed-lawyer and I'm a blogoholic.  It has been two years, thirty-seven days since my last post.

I stopped blogging the last time round because I felt I had shared all I wanted to share - my blog had served its purpose and I was starting to become self-indulgent and write in poetry rather than prose.  I'm sure we've all done it from time-to-time, us amateur bloggers.  I think its the sign of a proper journalistic blog that you don't write that kind of a post - or, at least, you don't take the fatal step of clicking "Post."  I made that mistake and it ruined the timbre of my blogging.  So I stopped.

[So why are you back, Grey-Eyes?]

Well, I met a girl.

[Oh, for god's sake, I've read enough tedious blogs like this].

Wait - let me explain.

[*click*]

The thing about science-ficition novels is, that they aren't about science-fiction.  They're not about aliens, or spaceships, or warp-drives. They're a conceit to allow the author to explore the human condition, putting mankind outside his normal frame of reference to discuss the more interesting parts of his humanity. Let me re-state, good science-fiction novels aren't about aliens, or spaceships, or warp-drives, they are just frames of reference.

This isn't a blog about a girl.  She's just a frame of reference.

[Well, sounds a little bit interesting, but I'm not convinced].

That's a fair point, but the chances are, if you're reading this, then this isn't my first post.  It'll take a while to get momentum, show up via links to other blogs, be large enough to appear on search engines.  Hell, by the time anyone finds this thing, I'll have written about the best part of a year of my life.

[So what's with this Grey-Eyes, thing anyway? Is this some sort of Watership Down goes to Court?]

Ah. No. I have grey eyes. And I am a lawyer.  That simple I'm afraid.

So let's assume this is the first track on the difficult second album.  I've broken the ice, I've spilt my drink a little trying to shake you hand, and laughed too loud at your first joke.  Point is, you think I'm weird, but I'm quite cute and I'm obviously trying to impress you so maybe you'll let me buy you a drink.  This time, I promise, no Rohypnol.

Seriously, it gets better from here on in.