Dear journal,
I found something interesting today. A met a wonderful, beautiful, talented little thing named May. She's as short and sweet as the month she's named after. She's everything the Haus of Lyon needs but I don't know how to get her on my...
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Dear Journal,
Boy, where do I even begin?
The past few days have been a whirlwind of meetings and presentations. I've been buried in discussions with the marketing teams and board members, leaving me no time to address the growing tension between May and me. (I know, I know. I'm an idiot.)
The weight of it all is driving me insane. Every time I see her, I feel like a freaking schoolboy!
Symptoms include: my heart racing, my palms sweating, and any coherent thought in my mind going straight into the gutter.
My therapist says it's normal but I'd like to disagree.
My mind strays to the moments I've been unable to talk about my feelings.
May is utterly gorgeous, and it's a constant battle to keep my mind and body under control when she's around. I can only acquaint myself with my right hand for so long. The way she moves, the way she speaks—it's sweet torture. At one point I found myself imagining what it would be like to touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin against mine. The thought sends shivers down my spine and makes my body tingle with a mix of desire and frustration.
(The almighty himself must be laughing at my predicament. Is this because I don't go to church?)
Tonight, I'm heading to a fashion show in Italy, and surprise—May will be there too. The idea of being so close to her, yet still having this unresolved tension, is almost unbearable. I'm like screwed shut mason jar on a hot July day. I hoped the distance from our routine would provide an opportunity to talk, but it seems fate had other plans.
At the airport, we finally had a chance to talk about what happened at the bar. I approached her with a mix of hope and dread. I needed to know where we stood, to understand her feelings and clarify the air between us.
When I brought up the night, May's response was deflective. (Why? Why? Why?!)
She said she didn't remember much of the evening. (Fuck my life.) Her nonchalant dismissal felt like a rejection, and it was like a punch to the gut. (Of course, the only time I fall for a woman genuinely, she doesn't reciprocate!) I kept my face neutral, but inside, my heart felt heavy with disappointment.
Maybe my mother was right about the nature of relationships and the choices we make. I wonder if I'm doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past, if the emotional distance I've inherited will always be a barrier to true connection.
I'm trying to fix that. Rome wasn't built in a day after all, it took years and effort till it was a shining metropolis.
May is sleeping in the seat next to me. She looks peaceful, not a hint of worry on her face. I wish I could lean over and brush the hair that's fallen onto her face.
While we play our respective games, the deadline approaches with an ominous neon sign. May has worked harder than anyone, starting early and leaving late. The bags under her eyes are indicative of that. I wish I could take some of that burden but I fear that people may whisper of favouritism. Carla is right to a degree, nobody would really care if we jumped into bed but I would escape unscathed from it. May would have to suffer the brunt of cruel whispers and rumours since she is a woman, and for some reasons despite the fact we're in the 21st century, there's only way someone like her can reach her position.
I won't do that to her.
Anyway...it doesn't really matter.
She's not into me. (Or maybe she's pretending she's not? Nope! Not going down that rabbit hole!)
As I sit here reflecting on the day, I realize that I've been so focused on my feelings for May that I've overlooked the disastrous consequences that it could lead to. In other words I was thinking with what was between my legs rather than my head. (I'm a man, I have needs. Sue me.)
I can't let anything cloud my judgment. Not even May.
The fashion show in Italy will be a welcome distraction, but I need to find a way to return to a safe and familiar pattern with May, for both our sakes. For
now, I'll try to keep my composure and focus on the work ahead, hoping that time and honesty will eventually bring clarity.
Much to do,
- Alexander
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