I mused in an earlier post if my search for love would end like life did for the Lady of Shalott and call me stupid but having just very much enjoyed re-reading the poem I have spotted that the darling knight in it who causes the Lady's downfall is of course called Lancelot... Why did I not spot this before, or perhaps I sub-conciously did and that was why I called my arrogant boy in London Lancelot? Perhaps he is destined to break my heart and so I will float away down the river to Camelot
I discussed the matter with my two closest friends yesterday at great length and from my honest description of him (arrogant, confident, clever, hard work but so much fun and jolly good looking - although it has to be said that after looking at photographic evidence of this they didn't agree) they both warned me and said it sounded as though he would mess me about and end up hurting me, especially as I seem to like him so much already. They also promised to be very kind to me when it all ends in tears and only to use their 'Told you so' expressions until I am strong enough to hear it in actual words.
I know that they are right because if our positions were reversed I would say exactly the same to either of them. But the truth is that it is rare to find someone you feel overwhelmingly physically attracted to, as they both had the grace to admit, and when that is combined with mental compatibility as well... So I had decided to go for it. Not to shilly shally along and try and wait for him to make all the running, but to properly dive in and see if what will happen between us. I know he is a jerk in many ways and that he almost certainly won't treat me properly or with the respect I deserve, but the truth is I am already rather besotted and life is short, I have only met one other man who attracts me so strongly (the yummy lecturer who turned me down) and so I am determined to enjoy whatever aspects of this I can and to have Lancelot in my life as much as possible.
I rarely meet people I find so interesting that I want to spend endless amounts of time with them, but he is one such. He is such a challenge in conversation let alone in any other way, we battle back and forth, constantly needing to be on our toes. We swap insults, squabble over literature and history, fight over politics and occasionally agree which always feels rather blissful and as though we are suddenly united and on the same side.
I am a hopeless monogomous romantic and so secretly would like him to simply be my boyfriend, but since he does live so far away and is so promiscuous I doubt that will happen any time soon. I am, however, quite prepared to settle for some sort of less conventional arrangement but lets face it I will only really see that as a means to an end.
He was rather keen on me too, especially shown as someone like him is not usually prepared to wait to get to know a girl better before sleeping with her, and from other things he said and did I do know he likes me. The question is simply how much he likes me? Added to which he is around my age and men like him are rather like the ghastly Dexter in the dreadfully boring and hugely over-rated book 'One Day', Maxim de Winter in 'Rebecca' or Mr Rochester in 'Jane Eyre'; they sleep around and are total cads while young and if they are prepared to settle down and commit to a girl properly then it doesn't tend to happen until they are older or have suffered big set backs like losing their career or eye-sight and so at last worked out the value of a committed relationship. After all there is no other way that plain women like Emma, the unnamed heroine or Jane Eyre would end up with such devilishly handsome chaps.
Meanwhile I am going on my third date with the Blue Peter Chap tomorrow night: dinner and drinks. He is jolly nice and will at the very least behave like a gentleman and treat me nicely... Why does that suddenly seem so dull in comparison to the wild and gloriously fun and naughty Lancelot...
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