Sex in Heathrow Terminal 5

Tomorrow i have to rise at the exceptionally early (for a lazy fella like me) time of 5:45 in order to compete at a Dance Competition in Leeds. Naturally, before any big occasion i cannot sleep, so i thought i would write a blog. Now, in light of recent events in my life, namely a break-up, i have become self reflective, so i think to myself, surely if i bore my readers with the tales about my life so far, i might be able to bore myself to sleep while writing.

I choose the starting point of my life's chronicle at Summer 2008. Why? Well at the moment i'm reading "Brown at 10" by Seldon and Lodge, and i am up to the period of Summer 2008, and while reading i took a moment to remember what i was doing at that time. Brown had just got cosy with Madleson again, having had a summer of rebellion within the Cabinet, namely David Milliband sewing the seeds to run for Leadership...

Anyway, i find myself then locked in a rather curious online-relationship. The virtues of the online-relationship have many bounds and flaws, which frankly i may have been too blind to see at the time, however, at the time i was literally head over heels in love/lust with someone i had met twice. The girl in question lived far far away, however was returning to my hometown in September, and having spent every day of the last year talking on the old MSN chat system, i could not be happier. During this time, i had developed quite an infatuation for her, I had gotten to know her very well indeed in terms of what she liked and disliked, which seemed pretty on par with me. She had returned at easter, where we spent two hours making out, to then hear in the SUmmer of 2008 she would be returning "home" i began to phrase things like "Spielburg couldn't have written it better" and "she's the one". So much was i into this person we had agreed that when we met at Heathrow, we would tear each others clothes of like animals and take each other there and then (hence the title of the blog). Needless to say, we didn't have sex at Heathrow.

By October 2008 i had realised she wasn't the one (for now) and sought pastures new. Perhaps this was a grave mistake, perhaps a bit of selfishness. Frankly, having spent most of my childhood in a quiet manner, i was riding a crest of success (or so i felt), and thought my life would be best served as an independent (I.E i wanted as much tea and cake as i could possibly stomach). During this period, relationships bloomed and withered with such frequency it became almost a habit to have a weekly falling out with someone, before making up just in time for Monday morning.

Having "done my own thing" for near enough a year, i was back on Speilbergs doorstep, and back together with my online love. This time it went a lot better, and despite the constant strain of Sixth-Form work, we kept very close and enjoyed 9 months of near enough happiness. This time it was different, rather than referring to each other as "the one" i began to say things like "we're old enough and ugly enough to make it work". First time round, our relationship was riddled with jealousy on both sides, as well as the unavoidable elephant in the room that was the idea we'd go this distance. This time round, i think we both realised that it wasn't that simple.

Now, there were periods where i believed that we would stay together through the University stage of our lives. When applying via UCAS for our course, we weren't talking and i'd go as far as to say we hated each other. Spielberg was working his magic again, and low and behold we had made the same University choices (Her second choice was my first choice). When we got back together, i got a bit weird again and thought along the lines of "If she fucks up, and i do well, despite everything we've been through we end up at the same UNI, we're meant to be".

Well, she passed with flying colours and i fucked up big time. So much so, it seemed a great possibility i wasn't going to get to Uni. I was 1 point (on the International Baccalaureate system) from getting no Sixth-Form qualifications. So much was the scale of my fuck up, it wasn't really feasible for me to re-sit, because it would take a monster effort to get anywhere near where i wanted to be. Me and a friend had loosely arranged to go and do some farm work in New Zealand (for people helped move there only that summer) before coming back and becoming furniture movers.

This prospect, unfortunately led me down a bad road. Needless to say there were tears most nights as i became very depressed. During this period, my relationship hit a snag, and we called it off, because our futures were going in different directions.

I had had an enjoyable sixth form experience. During this time i had been to Prague, Corfu and Bologna. I'd been to the FA Cup final to watch Chelsea, my team, beat Everton 2-1. Thanks to some sweet coroporate hospitality digs i got to touch the trophy and meet childhood hero Gus Poyet. I'd gotten back into rugby after a year off contact sport. But, mid-august i am truly in a rut, no idea how to get out.

Then, August-19th came along.....