Let’s catch up Lu. You’ve been talking to your London lover for a few months now. He texts you almost daily, calls you weekly. He puts you on the phone with his closest friends who gush about how much he adores you. He prompts you to visit, begging to recreate your whimsical trip in SF. You act on the impulse. You book the trip. You think about the trip almost daily. You count down the moments until you are on your next adventure with this seemingly stud. When you finally arrive, it all seems copasetic. He has everything mapped out.
On the surface, it’s great. He takes you to dinner at his favorite tapas bar, making sure he orders all your favorite dishes from Barcelona (he knew how much you loved your time abroad there). The following night, he’ll take you to dinner in Chinatown. He wants a tradition with you (since you guys went to Chinatown in SF). He wanted to recreate the memory again, a special moment shared just for you two. Next, he’ll surprise you with tickets to the Beatles show because you really wanted to do something “English.” What’s more English than a musical about a British band? Nothing, I know. He’ll also book a romantic dinner at his favorite high-end restaurant, a place he’s only ever taken his family on special occasions. A special occasion he hoped to memorialize with his California lady. Then, of course, there was the champagne tour of the London Eye. He wanted to GO BIG and make it extra special. It all sounds so wonderful, doesn’t it?
You can create moments with people, but when it comes to romance you fall in love by conversation, by touch, you get the point. Let’s start with our sex life. My really hot romantic trip included one night of sex. Yes, you read that right. I can’t think of anything worse than being away with someone with seemingly no sex drive.
The minute we got home, he would head straight to bed and pass out before I even made it into the bedroom. Like did you really need your 8 beers at dinner? I am only here for 5 fucking days or maybe you are a straight alcoholic, I don’t know. Talk about feeling like a wanted woman. Nothing feels worse than visiting a guy who has no interest in having sex with you. WHY DID YOU INVITE ME?! Second, the hand holding thing? That shit is out the fucking window like 80 percent of the time. Now, he walks fast, he did in SF. BUT, trying to follow him around the tube was like a dog following his owner. The one time I walked ahead, I get reprimanded for being an attention-seeking. Our “romantic” West End dinner conversation consisted of him telling me how he loves being single, being able to hook up with whomever he wants. He dreaded having to plan anything in his former relationship (which he neglected to mention after insisting on planning our entire trip). Mind you, the day before I left for the trip, he talked about getting married (a conversation I NEVER fucking initiated but he made me entertain for 30 minutes). After, I sat in silence, trying to not throw my fucking dinner plate in his fucking face. I got reprimanded again, for “sulking.” I’m sorry I wasn’t thrilled to hear you brag about your bachelor life as well as talk shit about your former girlfriend. I was out of order and “misbehaved.” My rebuff was quickly silenced, once his friends walked in the room. I wasn’t going to make a scene for someone’s whose emotions are my up and down than a rollercoaster. I knew the only way to get through the rest of the trip was to FAKE the entire fucking thing.
Then came the parading of me around his friends. In public, London acted like a doting lover, buying all my drinks, showing rare signs of affection. His friends adored me, inviting me on trips and telling London I was the one to marry. At moments when we were alone, he acted cold, distant, uninterested and annoyed with my overall presence. I think he’s an actual misogynist. At times he acted like I was the love of his life and other times I was an inconvenience. There were great moments but his own insecurities about relationships/feelings isn’t my responsibility. Grow up.
When he hugged me goodbye, he wouldn’t let me go. Like -I’m sorry do you have a PHD in faking emotion or are you just fucking psycho? He also neatly stacked all of our tickets into his memory box before I left, making sure he didn’t miss a single ticket or memory from our trip. I didn’t know how to feel or act. Like why do you even care? I felt disgusted at the thought of even having to tolerate his embrace, dramatic, but true. I felt betrayed, disappointed and BEYOND confused. I was sad to leave London but couldn’t wait to get away from my “lover.” Next, of course, my phone starts blowing up with “lovely messages” about how wonderful our time was together and him “checking in” to make sure I made it to my flight on time. What did I learn? Misogynists exist. London is a bomb ass city. I will NEVER be a kept woman. I handle horrible situations like a boss. Sometimes the best thing you can have is 5,000 miles worth of space.