This post has been heavily edited. Much of it was very private and should be spoken, not published to the world.
If I post this, I apologise to all of you for my totally stupidhead rantings. Especially the object of my affections. Most of this should have been a private message. I started this post quite straight. Then I came back from Cooktown and continued to write (after the silhouette pic) whilst getting a little ‘wasted’ on Coopers n stuff. So, here we go.
I have had two relationships, and have slept/had sex with four women in twenty four years (prior to that is another story).
Can someone please explain how I get this woman out of my head. My waking thoughts are of her. I drift off into her eyes and into her head. I want to let go of that love I feel for her, but I can’t. Her companionship fills me with warmth. I actually got butterflies on Sunday morning, thinking that I may actually get to see her somewhere at the beach. I think Sunday was the best day I have had in a long time. I don’t need to go into details. That would be disrespectful. We shared some time together and she let me show her how I felt about her. And she listened to me. And if circumstances were different, it may have been the beginning of something special. We met at the wrong time. But then, perhaps it was the right time. We lifted each other up (well I hope I lifted your heart some) and I know (repeating myself) I gained a lot from this short two months. She is unique and it will be a long time before I really let go of her. I still think she is still too scared to trust anyone.
*11:30pm 3rd July*
A little bit lost but not yet drunk
I’ve tried hard not think about her. We drove to Cooktown tonight and I thought the drive would clear my head, but it didn’t help. So we stopped at the Den for take aways on the way home.
She doesn’t want you Brad. She told you nearly two months ago (or is it three) that she was not interested in a relationship. She made it very clear. “I am not interested in a relationship with you, or anyone”. But later, I got to hold you close. You let me into your personal space and I fell into you. Just to hold you close was enough to start the fall. Damn, just seeing you drive by was enough to make me distracted for half an hour. I didn’t think I would feel anything, let alone fall for someone. But I couldn’t help but want to be with you more. To feel that feeling. Our conversations together lifted my soul. But then I began to feel more for you. I wanted to touch your cheek, or gently kiss your eyelashes. To whisper in your ear and steal a kiss to your earlobe. To feel your warmth. To watch one more sunrise with you before you went away. Grant me your friendship and company for one last night. We deserve to part with good memories, not lost chances of happiness.
*Getting kinda wasted now*
I know that I shouldn’t be exposing my thoughts about you here. I do it because it helps me clarify my real feelings. Maybe I should use pen and paper for this stuff, and leave this space for other gypsy/hippy stuff.
I cried today. Not for Her, but for making things hard for Rosie. I want so much to make her happy, but I think I’ve made it worse in many ways.
I’ll stop now because I’m fucking doing it again! I’m sorry Rosie. In the most heartfelt way. I just can’t help loving you.
That’s it. No more exposing my heart here. It’s not fair on her or you lot. Next post will be about other stuff (we’ve heard *that* before).
All men are arseholes! That’s my saying. We’re only good for breeding really. The rest of the time we’re just about as thick as two bricks with no sense of compassion or empathy whatsoever. We are emotionally selfish, relatively immature for our ages, and think we have superior intelligence over women. We seriously need to get over ourselves and start appreciating women for their superior beauty of soul. Maybe I’m preaching to the converted. I’m sure all my male readers have felt that beauty, in either present, past, or lost partners.
*Nearly 1am. A bit plastered*
Spellchecking will be a bitch.
So, I’ll change the subject I think. I had a bit of a ‘thing’ happen on the tractor today. I slashed the track up to ‘the view’ and then turned around and headed down hill. In hindsight, I should have disengaged the PTO for the slasher (6 footer) before descending the hill. But there were patches I wanted to slash that I’d missed.. Anyway, I made a second stupid decision. I was in 3rd gear, low range. As I started the descent I backed off the throttle and stood on the brake and clutch to drop back to second. So, the pto acted like a bigarse flywheel and the brakes decided to fail just as I knocked it out of third to slip it into second. Stupid stupid frikkin’ thing to do on a moving tractor on a steep hill. One hundred metres down the hill was the house, two parked cars, a shed and a clothesline. And I was freewheeling in neutral with no brakes. About fifty metres down the hill I was probably doing fifty kliks. I had weighed up my options (bail or ride it out) and had time to recall that all the tractor fatalities I ever read about involved people either bailing out (under the wheel) or turning too hard on steep ground. So I drove it into the sapling windbreak that runs parallel to the track on the right. My first smart move of the entire day. The saplings pulled me up gently, but very effectively. But it was bloody noisy! Norm came running up from the house,thinking I had rolled it. I managed to flatten about fifteen metres of windbreak. I couldn’t back out though, so I had to drive it through more trees (low range first gear no pto/slasher running) to get onto the track again. The tractor has a bucket on the front that acted like a dozer blade through the treeline. It also stopped any damage to the radiator etc. Tomorrow arvo I’ll fix it all up (and take photos). I was stone cold sober too. That was the third fucked up thing that happened today. The second was cracking the plastic lid on the overgrown septic tank with the tractor (a week before the party). The first was after seeing her, then coming home and sitting on the steps here, crying and feeling sorry for myself.
It’s all about *you* Rosie. Your happiness is what is important to me in terms of our friendship. I want *us* to stay close. I want you to call me when you are sad, or happy, or need to vent to a friend. I know you won’t need me when you leave. You have your dear friends and my wingman down South. They love you and will keep you strong.
What am I doing? I have to drive to Cookie in the morning. Sleep is for the weak. It’s a one hour (on the outside) drive. Standing on my head stuff. I want to drive to Cairns with Lill and offer a friend a ride back to Bloomfield *after* the Origin Final. With no pressure or expectations of anything but a good night of fun. But I can’t do that. She would hate me for it.
Damn. Last load of washing has soaked for an hour or more. I need to spin it and hang it and go to bed. After this beer
I drink I have a thinking problem…
I think I’ve said somewhere before that I wouldn’t post anymore about her. Well, this is it folks. Nothing more. The rest of this story stays private. But hey. If you just happen to read this, and trust me on the Cairns Origin thing, the offer is there. You don’t want to miss Origin. And it would be all good. Lill will be our chaperone.
Shut the f up Bradley. You are talking stupid shit.
Rosie, you fill my world and it’s scaring the hell out of me. I can’t let go.