I received a sweet, flattering email from the Guru last night emphasising how much he enjoyed our evening and his belief in my inner fire and strength of character.
I replied in kind, then explained my condition, how it affects me, and how ultimately because of this, I would not be able to offer him pre arranged or ad hoc hospitality when he was in London. I apologised for my shortcomings, stressed that it was ‘not him it was me’ and hoped that this would not harm our budding friendship. I then wished him a safe journey home and looked forward to being taught by him later in the year.
He may not have received this message. He may have been 30,000 feet above sea, hence incommunicado. Unlikely though given the arctic weather conditions.
More likely however is that he was ringing around for a bed for the night, bunking down at a chilly B&B with nylon sheets, UHT milk and a wonky telly, or freezing his nuts off at Heathrow, anxiously scanning the departures board, preparing to bunk down on those uncomfortable backless seats until it flickered and clicked back to life with new flight times.
Especially with me. Despite my explanation. To the extent that he was not prepared to reply and reassure me that he understood, and that everything was fine between us.
I don’t blame him. Honestly. An entirely understandable, very human reaction from a mere mortal, i.e an ordinary bloke from Birmingham.
Strangely enough, I don’t feel paranoid anymore and any guilt I felt has finally dissipated. I did the right thing by myself and ultimately got to teach G a valuable life lesson.
When planning a trip to the Big Smoke, always pre arrange accomodation, and never rely a paranoid, territorial, soiitary fruitloop you have barely known for five minutes (or any other woman living on her own for that matter) to give you a bed for the night with barely a moments notice, let alone a weekend.
Hey, maybe he’s right re my inner strength and fire.
Amen to that.