My Right Pocket

Peeling off a plaster isn’t as painful as we think; it’s the build-up and the fear that we let ourselves imagine which creates a pain even worse than the one we feel when we finally decided to rip it off. I’m sitting here and I feel that my life is just waiting for that pain and I’m anticipating it hurting more and more the longer I wait for it.

I’m talking about a girl. Yes, Shakespeare compares girls to a summer’s day; I am comparing my girl to a plaster.

First it’s a few nights out and in the photos I am not by her side, flicking my eyebrow up like an idiot or looking down as she smiles back up at me both of us clutching a double JD & coke. Then it’s the forgetting me, waking up not remembering how I made her laugh, how I kissed her lips or how I held her in my arms as she fell to sleep knowing she was safe while I was near. The playful teasing, the witty quips, are replaced by quotes thought to be wise to help convince her she’s chosen the right path and the home cooked meal with tiny gifts are replaced by a bottle of champagne and a card that I did not get her.  Then tomorrow it’ll be a photo with another man, until over time he is the man in most of the photos. The poems and the hash-tags will belong to him and so will my girl’s heart. My plaster will be torn and so will the core of my soul.

Pain is one thing, I can handle pain. Waiting for the pain though, that’s torture. Knowing one day you’ll hear a name, one that all though it never did, you still feel it belongs to you and you’ll have to sit and nod and hear a story about what they’re doing these days and pretend you’ve never known of that name before, it doesn’t sound familiar. Knowing someone is giving her their time, and even worse knowing she is giving her time to someone too. Who? Where? When? Why? Questions hurt, not having the answers kills. There is no running away from this inevitable kind of agony either, because you wait for it and when it doesn’t come you go and look for it and I’ve found little nails of this agony but the sword still awaits me.

I don’t write many truths about my life here but here is some truth for you. There was a girl at a bar who my mate was trying to chat up, and I popped my drunken head over his shoulder and said ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’ He did, and I went back to watching Arsenal v Bradford in the Carling Cup whilst also letting the other guys watching it know that I had just spoken to the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.  Now the tale goes that later on in the night I sat down at her table with her mates, and began chatting to her. Important moments of that conversation = I tried to make myself sound better than I am because in fact I am a mess of a man, and also I was asked to buy a red wrist band for charity from a bar girl but I don’t believe in charity, so the most beautiful girl I have ever seen bought me one and I put it on. We continued to talk, getting to know each other and I was hooked, intrigued by another human being more than ever. I could sense I wasn’t welcome on the table by the two guy mates she was with but I didn’t care. We then went to a tiny club, and she was getting bullied on the stairs by a group of girls and as I went to the toilet I saw them ganging up on her and stepped in and told them to do one, but not that politely.  Last note of that night, is I somehow managed to get her and her mate who already admitted to me that night he was in love with her back to my friends house, where just as she went to step through the front door I pulled her back and we kissed in my friend’s front drive way. Neither of us can completely remember the kiss or the rest of the night because we both blacked-out.

My initial instinct here is to write out start to finish exactly everything we ever did and everything I ever felt from beginning to end with this girl, but right here, right now, it’s not about that. I’m not really sure what it is about, possibly closure but I don’t think I will ever have that, or possibly just another meaningless rant, but even the meaningless rants are not meaningless if you’ve purposely tried to make them meaningless right?

Never think you completely know somebody even when you know you do. Never stop trying to win their heart even though you hold it in the palm of your hand. People grow and because they grow they never stay the same, the person you love keeps learning and changing, so you have to keep learning and getting to know them over and over again. I was too caught up in the passion to ever have time to sit back and see that. It’s only now when it’s too late that I see I took her for granted and I took my life for granted. Just because it wasn’t exactly where I wanted to be in terms of what I deemed successful didn’t mean it wasn’t getting better. Like Roy Cropper said to Hayley… she got my excuse of an existence and turned it in to a life. I will be forever grateful for all the good times we shared and know deep down that the majority of those good times were because she enabled them.

Caught up in the passion sounds about right. Utter madness from day 1. The scratch marks, the bite marks I still feel them. Fighting in the house or in the street it didn’t matter to us, we fought like enemies but enemies never make up like we did. Guess that’s half of the problem, we could tear each other’s hair out and scream the word ‘cunt’ in each other’s faces 500 times a day but it always felt like the cuts would heal and just a smirk or a look from one of us and she’d jump into my arms and the fight was over because we loved one another more than anything and we were forever. Unfortunately it seems that we took it to the edge every time and eventually we fell off.

The character Theodore in the movie HER said ‘I think I have felt everything I’m ever gonna feel, and from here on out I’m not gonna feel anything new, just lesser versions of what I’ve already felt.’  I identified with what he said and how he felt. I could be in a restaurant with the loveliest girl in the world, a nice person and good company but at the end of the day it’s not the same. I don’t expect it to be the same and I realise moving on, meeting new people and having new experiences is going to be different. But I find myself wanting to share these times with the girl who I planned to love forever. I want it to be her laugh I hear, I want it to be her waist I put my arm around at the bar. And when I laugh I feel it’s a little less louder and when I smile it’s a little less bigger. I’m not saying I won’t care about anyone ever again, or that I won’t fall in love again. The world is a big place and I’m determined to see it. I’m just afraid that everything is going to always be just a little less. Life and good times aren’t worth living if those moments are not shared and I wanted to share those times with this girl.

It’s a weird feeling to be alone. After spending 24/7 with somebody for a year I find myself automatically going to tell her something, or just waiting for her call. Seeing something I know she’d want to see or hear about and I desperately want to tell her and I can’t. My phone doesn’t ring with her name on it and the door doesn’t knock with her standing on the front step. The strange thing is that I feel something is missing, but even if I did open the door to see her there the thing that is missing would still not be back. See I often dream that we meet again, and the passion is still there and the love is still there. But that’s just the me in a dream. The me that’s awake would know that another man would have kissed her, held her, touched her, had her. The beautiful, funny, kind girl that I loved is gone. With every guy, with every night, with every new memory, a little part of my girl goes with them until one day she’s gone completely. The fact there’s going to be new guys who talk about meeting her like I did, get excited about texting her, holding her, talking to their mates about my girl, that eats away at me, it irritates my heart to the point of exhaustion.

I often ask myself was the pain worth the journey and although at the moment I possess a bitter tongue I would always say that it was. I never fell in love with a collection of cliché’s. Sure she was sexy and crazy and fun but deeper than that I fell in love with something that was true. I fell in love with hope. The hope that I could fix her and she could fix me.  I fell in love with the fact that she loved me even though I am an addict, sad, angry and all the other things I am that only she knows about. I loved her even more because she knew I was living in the gutter and decided to come and live there with me. Making plans to get us both out of it. I also got to know a girl who was broken, scarred, naïve, insecure and vulnerable. We went deep from day one and that was intense but I don’t regret it. We didn’t fall in love because of similar music tastes, or similar values or family background. I can’t talk for her but I know I never stopped falling in love with her because she was real. I didn’t always get her, in fact at times she drove me crazy with her behaviour and attitude but I loved her because at least I wasn’t getting to know only the good things. I fell in love with the pain, the scars, the past which led her to me. And damn I was bitter about my life, I knew deep down that I had a chance to become a footballer and I threw it away. I’ve lived ten years with regrets buried in my mind. But I started not to regret so much when I saw that the path I went down led me to this girl, who I could share an adventurous future with. Starting to not regret my past led me to not judge her for hers, because her journey and story led her to me and I was very thankful for that.

I never judged her for her past, but at times I judged her for her present. I don’t think I will ever comprehend her mind set at times but I’m sure she will never understand mine either. I’m not sure what killed something so strong in the end but I have my suspicions. What I am sure of is that I am so sorry if I ever made her feel like she wasn’t the most important thing to me because I can assure you that she was. I’m sorry if I ever made her cry, even though she has the most beautiful crying face. I don’t regret the happy tears though; I just wish there were more of those times. The tears when I told her that I wanted to get her a kitten but her Mum said no, I regret those tears because I just wish I fucking bought it. I tried to be considerate but I wish I just only considered my girl. I was never going to win over a woman who has prejudice, hate and bitterness built in to her. Poison, stupidity and manipulation seems to always win over love, truth and kindness, so I had nothing to lose. Our third and final trip to Ascot, oh how I loved our days out. I needed to go to the toilet so desperately that day on the way home but more than anything I didn’t want to wake her up as she slept on my lap. Ready to burst we jumped off at Kingston and I ran off in to the street looking for somewhere to go, eventually arriving back at the station to see my slightly drunk, slightly tired girl crying her eyes out and running over to me to give me a hug. “I thought you left me”, she said, choking on her tears. “I will never leave you” I said, meaning it with all of my heart. I don’t regret those sad tears, because right there in that moment, I loved her more than I ever loved her before. Ironically part of me thinks that night could have been the beginning of the end, because not long after when we got to our last stop we began the most almighty fight over something so ridiculous and looking back now I wish I hadn’t been so stubborn and just did something her way. The escalation was unnecessary and it began to eat away at us, but as I say, lost in the passion and the madness I never took a step back to see the storm coming, we just tried to ride every wave.

The love was intense, if I wasn’t at her house she was at mine, even right at the start her Mum came around to take her home because she hadn’t been home in 4 days nor been in touch. I started to rely on her love and her kindness and at points took advantage of that love and kindness. Not in a cruel way, just in a selfish way and I’m not a selfish person but I was behaving selfishly. She relied on my love too, I saw desperation in her eyes on so many occasions where she’d just turn up at my house and shake me until I was whoever she wanted me to be and said whatever it was she wanted me to say. It’s not attractive to be desperate, but her vulnerability and desperation at times were not negatives for me. She didn’t need to impress me, she was perfect in my eyes, crazy…yes…but perfect. Holding back the tears I guess she wanted to know she was never going to be alone, that I was always going to be there for her. I needed her to do things to give me the same confirmation and I hated her at times for not being who I needed her to be in certain situations. I also desperately wanted her to stand up for me like I always would for her (Whether she was right or wrong.) I don’t know if little Indian kids steal drinks in pubs, but if she says they do then I’m going to war with her. I was like Tony Blair following George W. Bush into Afghanistan. Tony didn’t know if there were Weapons of Mass Destruction but he loved George so much he dived in anyway, all guns blazing. We’ll find the truth out later, but for now I’ve got your back! I make light of it but, I needed her to back me, no questions asked. Back me because she trusted I’d always have her best interests at heart or just back me because she loved me and wouldn’t take anyone bad mouthing me even if they were right. The security in family and ‘friends’ lets her sleep easier at night, maybe building a life together wasn’t secure enough and maybe one day certain decisions will be proven to be the right ones. I never said I would be the easy choice, I thought choosing each other would be the best choice, but at the end of the day once upon a time there wouldn’t have needed to be a choice made. I don’t know what happened or who said what, but what I do know is we had been through more in four months together than most people go through in their entire lives and it’ll never leave me. I’ll never forget.  Kodaline were right, ‘a love like this won’t last forever.’ She used to make me turn that song off when I tried to listen to it, and at points I did feel like they were singing about us.

Waterloo, Tops Pizza, Domino’s Pizza, the Caspoon, Green Tea, Junction, the Oscars, Jack Daniels, my Anti-Aging moisturiser, Park Royal, Rummy, Cheese Toasties, Christmas, Flowers, Bastille, Tesco Express, Skittles, the Sofa, Les Mis, West Harrow station, Sable, Summer, Morrison’s, Moons, Twitter, Kittens, Ascot, Fashion, the Great Gatsby, my camera, Vogue magazine, the toffee ice cream sauce in my kitchen cupboard and my right pocket.

I’ll never forget her because everything reminds me of her. Nothing really dies if it lives on in somebody’s heart and mind. Elvis, Shakespeare, Marilyn Monroe, Bonnie and Clyde….

I could sit here for days and list things that remind me of her and talk about the good memories I have, genuine smiles and a love that relieved me. How I felt when she came back from holiday and I saw her for the first time, 1 week away and I’ve never missed anybody as much, that pales in to insignificance now. The Zoo, my birthday, or the second time we went to Ascot (“Go on Lord of the Dance”). I could also sit here and talk about all the memories I don’t have because we never got there for one reason or another. What I had planned for her birthday, holidays, Vegas, everything else only she knows we spoke about and everything else only I know I had planned.

One memory sticks out for me though above all the others. I was at her house last year and we were having a great night then out of nowhere I started to become very sick, I was vomiting for hours, from every end imaginable. She had the big sofa bed set up for us both in the living room and I could see she was trying so hard to stay awake to make sure I was ok, but I wasn’t. I started to not be able to breathe and throwing up every five minutes wasn’t helping. Eventually we called the non-emergency number and painfully I tried to talk to the woman on the phone who suggested an ambulance came out to get me. That’s embarrassing enough because I don’t go to the doctor even when my head is falling off my neck, but to have my beautiful girlfriend there watching me look like a weak mess then that to most people would be slightly mortifying. I feel like right now, I should look back and be mortified, but at the time I wasn’t. I was very comfortable being myself around her and not purposely so, I think it just came very naturally. I just remember being worried about her because she had work in the morning. I did tell her not to look at me vomiting in the ambulance though, did she listen? No, she never did. Instead she stayed by my by side all night in the hospital until the morning, getting me water, holding my hand, making sure I was ok, and looking very worried like the spicy chicken wings she cooked for me the night before weren’t cooked properly. She was so tired but she stayed right next to me and I will never forget how that made me feel. I believed that day that she loved me and was truly sorry for anything that had gone on before. We walked in to Harrow and got the bus back to mine, and although she had work she sorted me out, lay in bed with me until I went to sleep, and on no sleep herself she went in to work. I heard all the best actors have a moment in time that they think of which allows them to cry on cue. I never really got that until without fail my eyes fill with tears every time I think about that night. I’m not sure if they’re happy tears or sad tears to be honest. Happy that someone could love me so much, yes. But so sad to be so confused as to how that girl could become a girl I don’t know within a few months. I’ll always remember that time. Especially because when she needed a tampon in the hospital I called the nurse over and she came back with what can only be described as an insole for a giant’s trainer.

Most men will tell their girl, that she is the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. Even if that man is going out with Joan Rivers. I’ve not had many girlfriends; I’ve not yearned for them but mostly because when I fell in love I wanted it to be forever. I didn’t want to pretend to care about a person just for a small moment in time. I wanted to be able to look my wife in the eye and say to her ‘I love you, more than anything and anyone.’ I wanted to be able to let her know that she was truly the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.  A shallow part of me also wanted to be with the best looking girl I had ever seen, because at least when I told her that she was I knew I was telling the truth. Not many men can do that in their life. I could though, and I did.

She is the most beautiful girl, but the most beautiful thing that a man could want, is truth. One day hopefully I’ll be lucky enough to have it. Until then I still have hope, and although it’s the most dangerous of things, right now it’s about all I have. I sent a shabby incomplete draft version of a screenplay I wrote about four years ago called ‘I See You Harry’ to the BBC Writersroom in December. It was on a whim as I was browsing the site and saw the closing date was that very day. I got an E-Mail back in February to say that it got down to the last 15% of over 3000 scripts sent in. It doesn’t sound like the biggest achievement in the world but, it gave me a little spark back, a tiny ray of hope. People in the door that I can’t break down, read it and decided it was good enough to go through and not in the bin. Hope, and a tiny bit of pride restored. I was made to feel very small once, by an old lady in skinny jeans and a Ralph Lauren jumper. Fuck her! I am not nothing. I am somebody and I will strive to be somebody better. Only I have walked in my shoes, and quite frankly I believe only I could handle that task.

I don’t know what happened with the girl I love. My forever girl, my best friend. Maybe we were too young to deal with that passion and that intensity. Maybe we had things we needed to do alone before we could do everything together. I could have grown to resent her and she resent me if we weren’t able to get our dreams & ambitions out of our system, I don’t know. Maybe she needed to kiss a few more ugly creatures in nightclubs, and maybe I wasn’t ready to give up a similar part of me forever. Forever is a long time after all.

If there is a parallel universe then I hope me and my girl are there, together, with Harri Beau. My girl with all the high heels she could ask for and me with all the hair that I could ask for. I hear us from here, me doing a stupid voice, ‘bubba’, ‘little Natty Klara’. Her calling me ‘Jimmy Gunn’ in her silly voice and singing ‘I adore you’ to me in an even worse voice. I hope we’re happy. If in that universe it’s just us, loving each other like we did when we were together, with no outside influences or opinions, then I know we will be.

Plasters have to come off in the end, and once they do, the wound has healed, the cut is a scar, but the real pain is no more.