Sunday, 8 January 2012

Wake Up Call

Some mornings I wake up and in that moment of dreaming meets reality, I question what has really happened in the hours before dreaming commenced.  Some morning I remember funny jokes and greats days and nights out, and some morning I remember nothing.  The nothing is normally due to a bad day or nights experience, or sometimes due to exactly that, nothing at all. The day, the time, the location, blank.  I lay there for a few minutes and question exactly what I am feeling, or more to the point, what I should be feeling.  I run through all I can recall and evaluate what steps need to be taken next.  Do I need to do something? Apologise, pack something, ring someone, be somewhere or nothing at all, every things fine.  Then I pull myself out of the haze and start the day.  I hate those few minutes, there a gambling game.  They can result in a moment of pure happiness, or a moment of regret or annoyance, I never know in those seconds which one it's going to be.  This morning however, it was good.  I'm back in Manchester, with my housemates downstairs or still in bed, I love that.  The knowing your not alone without direction or motivation for what you should do next.  When the questioning is other, I listen, and on the days I hear the hustle and bustle of a busy household, I feel like I'm back with the world.

I have finished my dissertation and all other assignment, I can smile and feel content with my achievements and myself in general.  I live for those mornings, they are the drivers behind most of my decisions.  My subconscious is finely tuned to the actions and choices that will most likely bring about these morning and those that definitely won't.  Most commonly my fuck buddy bears the brunt of this decision making motivator, much  to his annoyance, I remove him to the spare room each night to ensure a morning of peace.  My treatment of him is almost down right rude.  Exact instructions for what I want and how I want it, followed by rude orders for various demands.  Yet this attitude is often the one attribute that keeps my men wanting and interested.  They may say they hate it but often when I allow myself to take instruction rather than giving it, they loose interest and the relationship diminishes.  My one fault is oddly often, my one undeniably attractive feature, and this is also my biggest problem.  When I am finally worn down by the affectionate words and considerate gestures, I become completely obedient.  Instantly regretting any rudeness or strong words I may have let slip.  Suddenly, the feature that they came to secretly adore and even respect, is gone and all that is left is an ever obedient wifey.

So I will keep this strong willed feature to a rational medium and hope that when I finally do find some essence of attraction forming, I do not completely change.  But at the same time, I will keep this attitude throughout the relationship and hope the 'shock factor' does not raise its ugly head as wifey comes to the surface.

Ever so slightly, yet not overwhelmingly, hot tempered MissE, signing out