I've been seeing someone for a while. I've sort of been keeping it secret because I'm afraid of jinxing it -- like I did with the South African when I waxed lyrical about him on this here blog and then soon after, got dumped.

It's bloody scary, this relationship stuff. It's alright at first when you're just 'seeing' each other, when it's just riotous flirting and a date here and there. But then, inevitably, feelings start creeping in and tangling things up. On the one hand, that's great, you know? It means that it's going well. But on the other hand, it's terrifying.

I feel so vulnerable. I think that's partly because the last few relationships have really knocked the wind out of my sails and left my self-esteem in tatters. It's also partly because, once more, my feelings - my ego, if nothing else - are liable to be very bruised if it all goes tits up.

I really like this one -- let's call him the Cute Nerd. But, because of the last relationship with the Spaniard and how that ended, every time it goes a little bit quiet or if I don't hear from him, I panic a little. It's completely irrational, I know, and it makes me feel a little crazy. With the Spaniard, not hearing from him was a barometer as to how he was feeling towards me. I know I can't use that to define this 'relationship' -- I don't even know if that's what we're calling it yet -- and so I'm just messing with my own head. I might feel better if I could tell him any of this, but I don't feel like we've gotten to that stage yet. He might see my insecurities and paranoia and want to run screaming. He might not, but I'm not ready to risk that yet.

As much as I don't want to risk getting hurt again, I know that it's not in my nature to be alone. Relationships, loving someone, is what I do best, and I'd like to see if this 'thing' could go that way, with time. I think I may have mentioned before that the thing that scares me most is ending up alone. And this time I know I must make sure that, if I stay in this relationship, it's for the right reasons, not just because I don't want to  be on my own. Luckily, right now, I'm having fun and the smile is being kept on my face. So time will tell, I guess. But that still doesn't make it any less frightening.

I don't blog anymore, but sometimes I miss it. At first it was an outlet for boredom, then for things that were getting me down. Mostly, it gave me a place to talk and think freely so that I could better reflect on difficult or confusing situations. It allowed me to voice my frustrations and exorcise demons, without fear of being judged or reprimanded. I found amazing friendship and support amongst the blogging community, and I met some of my best friends I have today through blogging. Sometimes I come here just to read back old entries. They're the best indication of the person I was when I wrote them and of my state of mind at the time. Some of them I look back on and cringe because hindsight is a wonderful thing to have. But I won't delete them, embarrassing though they may be, because they are a reminder of the person I was and there are lessons to be learnt with every situation.

Take the relationship with the Spaniard for example. I read back on those entries and think, 'What the hell?'. I can see just how vulnerable I made myself to a man who really didn't care all that much, and all because I was so desperate to be loved and to find love again. I can clearly see now that I was in a place where, having ended one relationship that I was so happy in, I was determined to find something just as special to replace it. But life doesn't work like that, and I guess I learnt that the hard way. I spent months trying to convince myself that I cared for the Spaniard, when all I was doing was trying to hammer a circle through a triangular hole. And I didn't and couldn't see that at the time. I didn't blog about it, but we even sort-of got back together for a very short while. Now I look back and I want to slap myself for being such an idiot. I'd like to hope that I've grown up a little since then and learnt a lesson or two. But then, at the time, I thought I had too. Oh, the naivety... but, as I was saying, hindsight is a brilliant thing to have. I've said this many a time, but I'll say it again: I wouldn't change anything. It's been a painful journey at times, and I've been naive and wonderfully silly, but everything I've been through and the people I've met along the way have made me who I am today. And I'm still slightly crazy and making it all up as I go along, but I think I'm finally happier in myself. Here's hoping, anyway :)

I don't understand them AT ALL.

*sigh*

I've been thinking a lot lately. How do you know you really love someone? I used to think I knew, and now I'm not so sure. I miss The Spaniard an awful lot. I haven't stopped thinking about him. I know it's only been 3 weeks since we broke up, but he's on my mind an awful lot. Did I really love him though? If I did, wouldn't I know beyond a shadow of a doubt?

We hadn't seen an awful lot of each other since the break up, but last Wednesday we had a really fun night out, and it ended on him telling me that he missed me and that I'm still on his mind. There were kisses and cuddles, from which we were both reluctant to withdraw from, and it left me awfully confused. He was very drunk, and told me that I'm the best - the best what, the best at what - your guess is as good as mine. He said he didn't want me to leave, but since there was so much alcohol involved, I knew that there would be a chance that the next day there there could be regret on his part, if he even remembered any of these events at all. I couldn't work out whether he was trying to tell me that he wanted me back or if he was just saying sorry for the way we ended up.

There was a point last week where I would have said for sure that I did love The Spaniard. When you love someone, you want to protect them, to shelter them from the things that hurt them and to soothe their pain no matter what, right? I felt that, so strongly, last week. I can't tell you the exact situation, but I just wanted to put my arms around him, hold him tight and make everything okay. Is that more than you would feel for a friend? I'm still not sure. I do know though, that I look for him online when I log on before bedtime (an old ritual of ours), and it still makes my heart skip a beat when I see his name in my inbox.

I wish I knew with some certainty what he wants from me. On my part, I still don't know what I want - I remember what the bad times were like and how awkward and lonely it felt sometimes, and that stops me from jumping back in. But I also can't deny the obvious chemistry we still have, and I can't forget the lazy comfortable evenings and weekends we spent together and the times he made me feel so special. Is it him I miss? Or it is just that I miss having someone there? I don't know. I do know though that, where before I felt that there was occasionally *something* missing from the relationship, now I feel like something is missing from my life.

Is it me, or does life never get any less confusing? I'm 27 next month -  I should be an adult, and yet so much of the time I feel like a lost child, making everything up as I go along. When does it get easier?

The last few mornings, I've woken up with a dull ache in my heart - one that felt strangely familiar, although I couldn't pinpoint what it was when it first began. And then I realised -  it was the lonely ache you feel when you love someone who no longer loves you back - the one when you know your relationship is coming to an end. After my previous relationship ended, I woke up with that ache everyday for 8 months.

When The Spaniard came into my life, although I didn't really notice it at the time, the ache that I felt slowly lifted until it disappeared altogether. I guess it was the rush from being in a new relationship that did it - all those new possibilities, the hope, the passion, the flirtation. So until a few days ago when the ache returned, I hadn't even noticed that it had gone.

But now it's back. Another relationship that didn't last. This time "you're a nice girl, but I'm not in love with you". If you look at my last post in February, it was something I'd known for a while, but had chosen to ignore, hoping that sooner or later it might happen, that those little awkward quiet moments would turn into comfortable silences. But life doesn't work like that, and I guess some things are not meant to be.

So on Friday, I was that girl on the tube with tears running down her face. But I do respect him for having the courage to be honest with me - it can't have been easy. After all, I too had identified that 'something' was missing, yet I had said nothing. The last 4/5 months have been fun and, above all, I'm grateful. Because, for a while at least, The Spaniard made me feel that there was another chance at love, and he lifted my sadness. It was good while it lasted, but ultimately we weren't right for each other, even though I wanted so much for this to be IT. Perhaps though, I've gained a good friend.

So, another frog down, I guess. I wonder how many more before I find my prince?