Can you be friends once you’ve been to bed? (Part II)

Okay, so maybe now I am being forced to eat my words of yesterday. Sitting here typing this the day after I met him, I am seriously reconsidering my previous positive posting... I guess you can be friends if you were friends to start off with. But not if the glue that held your relationship together was purely sexual.

Last night, it was clear to me as soon as I saw him, that we were still attracted to each other. From the moment he set eyes on me to the point we said goodbye, there was electricity in the air.

We went to a pub near Liverpool St. Where we had some wine, caught up on four weeks worth of news and tried to out-do each other in the whole "I'm leading a more exciting life without you" stakes. We were mean to each other in a way we never were. But there was also honesty there. Honesty that was severely lacking in the relationship.

Dinner was brought up. Against my better judgement I said yes. Sitting there next to him in the restaurant, he fed me sausage and mash (no double entendre here), he fed me the way he used to when he was my boyfriend. Everything was the same, and yet, it was different. Because, I was different.

The guy sitting next to me last night wasn't the guy I thought I was in love with. He wasn't even close. Sometimes I wonder just how much of him I imagined and how much of him was real. Did I only see what I wanted to see? Is love, or in this case, lust, truly blind?

He tried to sleep with me. Tried to coax me into doing the things I would have done without a moment's hesitation when we were together. I could feel myself weakening (I am a flawed being; don't judge me) but when push came to shove (entendre intended in this case)... I walked away. Leaving him just outside the escalators at Liverpool St Station, I kissed him goodbye. He asked if he could see me again.

Should I see him again? Is this prolonging the death of us? Or a lame attempt to resuscitate something which was born dead? And so, doesn't really have the right to live. In my imagination or anywhere else.

So many questions. I fear last night has only made my thinking even more befuddled.

Only time can tell if we can be friends. Maybe the chemistry will never disappear. Or maybe, one day it will.

I cried all the way home on the train. Because the scales have finally fallen from my eyes. The boy has clay feet.

Clarke x