No Glass Slipper – Entry 105

Dear Diary

Last night I held the flag proudly for heartbroken women. In my sparkling gold, sleek dress I heated up the dance floor. Each move I owned and embraced, channeling the female dance artists I’d seen that weekend. It felt amazing. I oozed inner strength and self confidence, seemingly untouched by fresh wounds of heartbreak.

Karate Kid had the nerve to ask me to dance. I allowed him to, but sent the message telepathically that the ship had long sailed and that I would be the best thing he never had. I was so glad that I’d not given in to having sex the whole time we were seeing each other. I felt centered knowing I’d protected myself against being once ‘his’. He had nothing over me, no strings attached to my heart, no control over me at all. It was my heart to give and take away as I pleased.

Irritatingly, he was trying to reconnect with me. I’d already set up an emotional wall inside my chest. This emotional wall was like an armour that protected my heart and deflected his subtle advances. He even tried to intertwine our fingers at one point but I refused to let my fingers part. Firmly and effortlessly, I held my ground. I thought to myself that things felt similar to how they were right back at the start before he stole the kiss on New Years – this guy wasn’t a Potential and would never be on my radar. I thanked him for the dance and walked away.

He asked me to dance three more times that night. I got the feeling that he may be repenting, perhaps having withdrawals. I stood my ground, I’d made my decision and there was no looking back. Assessing the situation I knew that I needed to execute my Cinderella act that night with exact precision. There would be no room for error – it was most definite that he would try to talk with me. Biding my time I enjoyed a few more amazing dances.

The opportunity came when I was satisfied that I’d danced enough that night. I scoped the room, he was nowhere to be seen. I was offended for a moment that he may have left without trying to talk to me – quickly though, I pulled my ego into check, reminded myself that I don’t care and realised it was for the best if he had gone. I discreetly took my belongings and disappeared out the door. At the lifts I cringed as the doors opened hoping he wouldn’t be inside like the last two inopportune times – he wasn’t, relief.

Safe and sound back in my hotel room I look in the mirror and tell myself that I was proud of how I’d conducted myself. I’d enjoyed the party and held my head high the whole night. No one would have suspected a thing. The next decision was what time to set my alarm to check out the next morning. Emotionally, it would be better for me not to cross paths with him again. I was sure that I’d be craving sleep but I could do that at home. I settled for 8am.

A few minutes later Karate Kid sends a text message “have you left?”. Not replying to that! I decide to set my alarm to 7am…so, so painful! Only 4 hours sleep. But, it would provide me with a wider margin to slip away undetected. Though, I’d be contending with peak hour traffic….. I really shouldn’t have to be inconvenienced because of him, but let’s face it dear Diary, I needed to extract myself from the situation whilst I was feeling strong. Who knows if his repeated advances would weaken my armour – I wasn’t going to stick around to test my emotional limits.

A few hours later my alarm went off….it was so tempting to snooze for another hour. But no, a rush of adrenaline got me out of bed and packing my things. Anxious about whether I’d be unlucky enough to cross paths with him again I decided to skip breakfast. Time was at the essence. It was likely I only had two hours before he would wake, I needed a good hour buffer. I packed away my toaster (on a side note, the hotel room door had a small sign with a toaster on it and red cross through saying ‘no cooking’….apparently BYO toaster is a thing. High fives to my kindred spirits, next time I recommend to bring an extension cord too so you can toast away on the balcony far from the fire detectors).

Finally ready to make the dash I carry my multiple bags to the car park. The last risky point was the drive way as he and the group’s apartments were directly across the road. I prayed and hoped that I’d slip out undetected…success. Past the first set if traffic lights and around the corner out of sight. Mission complete.

Thankfully, I survived the long drive home. Driving on little sleep is not safe. I didn’t realise how tird I was until I got home and prepared my breakfast. I accidentally cracked an egg into the garbage rather than a frying pan. I then put food into the microwave and forgot to turn it on – definitely time to sleep!

Almost ready to settle for some rest I see a missed call from Karate Kid. I say out loud ‘why are you calling me?’. My housemate asks what I said. I laugh and say that I was thinking out loud. Definitely time to sleep!

Let’s hope dear Diary that he doesn’t try to do anything foolish. Did he not hear me when I said “give me a week or two and I’ll be over it”. I was serious. I want space. He needs to respect that.

Before I get some much needed rest I’ll give you some updates on other things. I received a wink on the paid dating website over the weekend. My first potential client! I logged in and found that I could choose to reject or name my price. This took a bit of consideration. I wasn’t going to give up my social time for a measly amount of money. On the other hand I felt that I needed to be reasonable with my price so that I could test the water and really investigate this avenue. I wasn’t happy with the suggested price range, so I added an additional 100 onto the maximum suggested offer. To be honest, an extra 300 would have been more appropriate as I do value my spare time. Saying that, it’s been a couple of days and I feel the potential client didn’t like the price I set, haha.

I didn’t mention that on the first night of the dance congress I saw a man that resembled The Spaniard. His eyes, nose, eye brows, smile and soft black hair were strikingly similar. I held my breath and watched him dance. I wanted him to be The Spaniard so much. I longed for our eyes to connect and for him to recognise me. I then realised that I was staring and focused my attention elsewhere. This man was not The Spaniard, he was not the man that stole a piece of my heart. Each time I saw him for the duration of the weekend I’d stare and search for The Spaniard within him. It wasn’t him, stop staring, this man isn’t interested in you nor do your souls connect. Maybe it’s time to tell The Spaniard that I’ve booked my flights in November….


Image: [Jana Gouthova] ©

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