I can’t help but think that these journeys are unnecessarily complicated. I’ve only just published my last post which I completed yesterday because of the complications.

My experience through the airport of Wildcard’s country was relatively simple. Except that no one knows how to queue. People were pushing in to check-in from all angles. As I can’t speak their language there was little I could do but glare. Oh, and watch Wildcard as I waited. He stood at the barrier until I blew a kiss and waved him off. I watched him disappear for a moment then reappear, trying to see me in the queue again and then slowly walking to find his parents who were sat someone in the airport. I felt a pull from my solar plexus as he walked away – like my heart was pining for him as the distance grew, a complete physical manifestation of missing him.

So, due to the queue jumpers, check in took longer than needed. I had originally booked a priority ticket on Ryanair which gives you a 10kg carry on and a handbag. I had brought a 20kg case with me inbound as I had gifts to give Wildcard and his family and also brought toiletries etc, some of which I have left there with the bigger case.

Of course, once I had filled my smaller case with the gifts from Wildcard’s mum, I decided to buy a 20kg case pass again. I shouldn’t have bothered. My small case weighed 6kg. I prefer not lugging it round, it’s true, and security is easier with liquids and electricals packed away. But I’m not sure the cost justifies this. Is it more economical to buy the 20kg case when you buy your ticket? I’m not sure. Plus ‘priority’ is a joke. I’ve been on 8 flights this year and only once has Ryanair honoured priority pass. Plus, I think most people buy priority anyway, so it hardly makes a difference.

The plane out was delayed slightly which added pressure to my already tight schedule. My second flight to the UK (which I am now sat on, waiting to move) was not until 6am. I landed at 10pm, and once we had disembarked and went through security, picked up luggage and walked what seemed miles to the pick up point, I was wondering if it was worth going to the hotel.

It was. I travelled less than 10 minutes on the complimentary airshuttle and arrived at a comfortable hotel room with a huge bed and spacious walk in shower. It was 11pm before I had spoken to Wildcard, showered and looked for taxi options. Annoyingly, the hotel shuttle didn’t run until 5am and I needed to be at the airport for 4.30am. Check your hotel carefully. Airshuttle buses run at unique times for every hotel, if they even have one.

I didn’t sleep wonderfully well – my head was filled with Wildcard and the thought of a 4am get up – but being comfortable on a huge bed was better than sitting on a hard metal chair in the airport. Even if I had not slept, which I did, being comfortable for 5 hours was worth the £45 for the hotel. There were no comfortable facilities at the airport for my wait, although there may have been if I had booked a transit/connecting flight??

I woke, dressed, made my way out of the hotel and found a convenient ATM right outside the hotel. That was the simplest part of my morning. It all went downhill from there. I ordered my taxi via Cabify. This is the second time I have used them in Spain. I was quoted €13 for a 10 minute journey which is still cheaper than the €25 cost of a taxi transfer via the hotel. As before though, the taxi never arrives on time even though you can watch their journey on the interactive map. Secondly, there were a few other people waiting for taxis which made me wonder why the hotel hadn’t honoured its hotel room + transfer package if there were a few people needing it. Ah well.

The taxi driver didn’t speak English. We managed to communicate that I was going to the airport. He took me to the wrong terminal. I didn’t know this until I tried to enter the terminal and was told to go down two floors and get a bus. Sounds simple? It’s not at 4.45am when you are 15 minutes late and don’t speak Spanish. Plus, there was noone around which gives the airport an eerie feel and you can’t follow the crowds in the hope of getting to the right place.

But, I got there and managed to get to the right terminal. My next problem was that the UK Gov locator form wouldn’t accept my vaccination QR code and so the Ryanair staff wouldn’t check in my bag until I had done it. So, I stood at the front of the queue furiously fighting with it. Eventually it was done and I made my way to security. I weaved through the empty barriers and watched people walk straight through the ‘priority’ section, even though that was for disabled people or prams and they were neither.

The security alarm went off twice as I tried to walk through and the security didn’t speak English. You can tell they were talking about me though as I was ‘wanded’.

Soon I was finally, finally through security. I had a little time to grab a coffee and wish for the millionth time I wasn’t gluten free as I tried to ignore the beautiful fresh sandwiches and pastries on offer. Likewise, the plane offers nothing gluten free for breakfast. I’m probably hangry as well as exhausted.

I’m now on a train heading towards the centre of London so I can catch my final train back up North.

The flight to London was fine – practically empty – which makes the 4am get up worthwhile. I don’t know if it is covid or me but I really hate packed aeroplanes now.

When we landed though, I felt the physical pang in my chest. I was in the UK, home, and as far away from Wildcard as I can be. My heart aches with missing him. My heart tornadoes with thoughts and feelings and fears of the future.

Why can’t I just love him and him love me, and why can’t we just be together?

Day 12/13 – in the night

For me, thinking of any kind leads only to more thinking. I sometimes wish I could just switch my brain off.

Yesterday, after questioning me, I opened up to Wildcard and asked about what’s next. I explained that I had flights I needed to move and asked how I should proceed. He looked genuinely surprised that I needed to ask. He repeated that I can come when I want etc etc. I said no, does he want me to come? He replied, “I want you to come.” Despite some gentle probing/suggesting, there was little more said.

Yes, he was unwell, but he spent most of the afternoon on the sofa. I sat with him a while but started to feel in the way. I asked him, and he said I was crazy and that I didn’t need to go anywhere.

Hours passed though. I suggested we watched a film together ‘or something’ and he half agreed. But when I came back from the kitchen he had started to watch his TV series.

I once read something that said there is a part of your brain that wants you to be happy. So when you get a thought in your head, this part of your brain actively searched for evidence, manipulates evidence, to make that thought true.

And so it was with me. He doesn’t want to watch anything with me. He’s bored. I’m invading his space. He didn’t want me to come. He’s not even touching me now. Should I try to go home earlier?

And so on.

Eventually, I went into the bedroom and got my laptop out. That way, I was giving him the space he may have wanted or, if he chose, he could come to find me and we could watch something. It beat just sitting there.

After a few moments his mother called as she had made fresh orange juice. We sat together, but once finished he lay back down to watch his series. I stayed there for five or ten minutes then went back into the bedroom.

Not long after I heard his mum speaking to Wildcard and he shouted me. I came out and his mum disappeared. It appears she had questioned him on why we were not sitting together. He asked if I was angry at him and I said no, but I just wanted to do something with him. He reminded me he was ill and asked,what? What did I want to do? He didn’t feel like watching a film.

His mum returned with tea and cake and there was a heated conversation between them. I drank tea but there was an atmosphere. We talked a little and then it was time for bed.

He kissed me tenderly, repeatedly, and asked if I was angry or sad. I said no, and so he said goodnight.

But I was. I was now convinced that whilst he has feelings for me, they’re not of the depth or intensity of mine. He probably didn’t want to say anything whilst I was there but that it would probably come when I went home.

I was being childish and sulky but I felt genuinely sorry for myself. I reflected that I didn’t think I was a challenging girlfriend (you may beg to differ) as what I wanted was simple. I don’t need expensive gifts or fancy restaurants. All I want is to feel loved, every day. I want to feel, that in his eyes at least, I am beautiful and wanted. That I am his. That’s all.

Whilst my brain could find some evidence of that, at that moment it wasn’t enough. So I cried. And I felt sorry for myself. And I accepted that once again, I felt more for someone than they did for me. I felt my cloud nine dreams come crashing down around me and my heart ached. Maybe my friend was right – I’d put him on a pedestal. My attraction to him was making me feel like I was punching above my weight and that was making me feel insecure. She told me he was lucky to have me and that I should be patient and have faith. I was feeling none of this.

During this time he had messaged asking if I was OK, and I had said yes. There was no point going over everything again.

Not having washed my make up off and crying had led to stinging eyes and, sniffling a little, I went to the bathroom to wash my face. He heard me and shouted and I said I was OK, just washing my face. He continued to call me. I dried my eyes and feeling I’d hidden my tears the best I could, went to him.

He knew, as well as I did that I had been upset. But I didn’t see the point in trying to talk anymore. I had come, we’d had fun, but I wasn’t who he wanted in his future. That was what I had decided.

You know, I hate writing about this. I hate describing my flaws in all their depressing glory. My childishness. My weakness. But I have to, to learn and to purge.

We had the usual to-ing and fro-ing. Him trying to get me to speak, me refusing. He lay on the put-up bed on the floor and I stood at the foot of it, my arms crossed protectively around my body. I must have looked pathetic.

Eventually, too tired to fight any longer, I sat on the sofa. He stood and sat next to me. Now, the following day, I realise how close he sat to me but at the time I was oblivious, so wrapped up in my own woe.

Gently, gently, he questioned me.

I told him that I was sad because I had accepted the truth. That he didn’t feel the same as I did. I told him I knew he loved me and cared for me but that it wasn’t same.

He asked how I felt then. I told him I was completely in love with him and I accepted that his love was not the same as mine.

He asked how did I know that? Who had told me that? I said he had. I had asked him how he felt and he couldn’t tell me. I wanted to know about our future, if he wanted to be with me, if he was happy with me. If he was glad I had come. If we were serious. And he couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me. In my eyes, that only meant something bad.

He told me I was crazy – “you are here now, with my family”. How did I know he didn’t love me the same? I told him I tried to be a good girlfriend but I couldn’t make him love me more. He replied that I was a good girlfriend and I knew he loved me.

In an anxious state, I can’t look at the person I’m upset with. I was staring ahead, or at my hands that were wringing. He kept pulling my hands apart and placing them down away from each other. If I started to claw at my pyjamas, he would put a hand on top to stop me. He told me to look at him, that I must look at him when we are talking. But when I looked at him, I just felt overwhelming love. I wanted to drown in him, and kiss him, and float away on my dreams of our life together.

His eyes were kind, smiling almost. He held me, and whispered in my ear that he loved me and he wanted to be with me.

He genuinely couldn’t understand why I felt this way. I tried to explain. I told him that I didn’t trust my own judgement of how he felt and that I needed to be told. I told him that I knew his ex-girlfriends had loved him and that he had been happy with them for a while but I was scared he wouldn’t want a future with me like he didn’t with them. I said I wanted to be different.

He told me I was different – I was here now, they weren’t. I was here with him and his family- they weren’t. He said how he had driven three hours to take me to the beach, just to make me happy. He told me again and again, “you know I love you”.

Eventually, we parted. He took me to my room and kissed me again and again. And laughed and called me crazy. He made me promise I wasn’t going to cry again. I promised, and I didn’t.

This morning he came to me and we made love. And that is how it feels now – our bodies now familiar, the adrenalin of time apart ebbing away – now is just love and pleasure.

I have two and a half days left. I’m determined to be bright and cheerful and to try to not worry. This morning I hate myself for my errant thoughts, my fears and my doubts and my crying. I can’t do anything else now. I have told him and showed him how I feel. I can do no more. So I must enjoy my last days with him and pray that what is meant to be, will be and hope that actually what is happening is this…

I hope that in typical male/female fashion, he loves me but can’t tell me. And that I love him and I can’t stop telling him and that is the only problem between us.

Maybe, just maybe

My promised part two. Sorry for the wait. I’ve been back to work on top of trying to process everything.

I’m going to break the habit of a lifetime and try to outline the problem succinctly.

My sister thinks Wild Card is only after a visa. Pretty succinct I think. I will warn you, my analysis and exploration won’t be. 😉

To say this stung is putting it mildly. Sure, I’ve had this reaction before – from friends, from her even. She can’t understand or comprehend how I can fall in love with someone I’ve ‘spent one week with’. So, logically, she also can’t believe that he could fall in love with me. Ouch.

So, I will address this point first before trying to deal with the visa shaped elephant in the room.

I’ve never had a long distance relationship before. All my boyfriends have been local. When I met Wild Card online, or even Second (remember him?) I didn’t consider that I could love him. I thought they’d be…well, I don’t think I thought anything much, other than it would be fun to flirt with them and talk to them. I didn’t think I would feel more either.

But, we don’t love someone because they are right in front of us. Soldiers and sailors are separated from their loved ones. Flight attendants. People who simply get a job abroad. Students. People who have died. Them being aways from us doesn’t stop the love we have.

Sure, those examples are perhaps from people whose relationships start out in person. Ok.

I videochat with Wild Card every day. Numerous times every day. For ten months. Sometime we chat, sometimes we laugh. Sometimes we fight. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes we are just silent and just occupy virtual space.

As much as I think is possible, I know him and he knows me. And I love what I know and he tells me he loves what he knows.

#Loveisnottourism has thousands upon thousand of couples with a myriad of county combinations to see. You can love from a distance.

Now the biggie…the visa issue.

It’s not like I haven’t thought about this or even, though I hate to admit it, still do sometimes. But my fear comes through insecurity (why else would he possibly be interested in disappointing-old-me) in the main. I can’t deny that his nationality has fueled that of course- would I think the same if I was dating a young handsome American? Nope. I hate that my brain leads to that.

So maybe that’s why her opinion hurts so much. First, because of the implications that he can’t love me or want me for any other reason. Second, that I have been fooled and duped by him which makes me an idiot, and finally, conversely, that he has done nothing to deserve this opinion and this is the man I love.

I’ve never disclosed his nationality on here. Partly because of fear that I would get similar comments here, but also because it shouldn’t matter. When you read my posts about him, I want you to understand from my details of his actions and speech, not from his birth certificate.

However, as I have just proven, there are certain countries where citizens want to leave and do this through a sham marriage. There are also some countries where this is unlikely to happen.

Truth is, I will never be 100% sure until sufficient time has passed. That hurts, but it is true.

I know that these scammers use a multitude of tricks and manipulations to persuade their victim that they are loved. Time being one of them. They put the leg work in.

99% of me doesn’t believe he is like this 99% of the time.

I’m not the easiest option. It is ridiculously hard and expensive to get a visa for the uk – he is attractive and charismatic enough to tempt a woman from a much ‘easier’ country. Whilst I have a good job and house etc, I have three dependent children – one of them only 6 years old. I don’t have the disposable income that a woman older than me could have.

And you know what? I’m hard work. I’m over-emotional, suspicious and jealous. I’m not as gullible as some because my low self esteem won’t allow it. I haven’t fallen for his declarations without questions and doubt. I know he gets frustrated with this. And hurt.

But then, he is hard work too. He can be moody. He can take a joke way past funny. He sometimes isn’t as openly loving or romantic as I would like.

He’s never promised me anything or asked for anything. He doesn’t try to sell me a tale of a perfect love or marriage or life – in fact, he has pointed out how hard this will be.

What he does do, is give me his time. Day after day. To give someone so much of yourself, your time, your life, that has to mean something. Because if he doesn’t love me by now, each moment of that would be difficult particularly when it’s so frequent. It’s also, arguably, unnecessary. Despite my obvious insecurities he knows I love him. He has no need to call as frequently as he does. I can only assume that he loves it as much as I do.

Take today. As I am back in work now, our daily calls have gone from 6++++ to two. No morning call on the way to work or back to it (x2 as he comes home for lunch). But today, he was travelling to another city on business. So this morning, something he has never done, he surprised me with a 7am videocall before he went to the train station. And then another when he arrived at the station, before I went to work. He has never called that early before and he didn’t have to – since being back in work we have our morning texts and evening calls only.He must have wanted to speak to me, surely, or else – why bother?

The reason for my sister’s recent outburst is just that though. She thinks that because we don’t have ‘meaningful conversations’ all the time, its a fake.

I told her that if I am having a meaningful conversation, I leave the room and go somewhere private. So she wouldn’t hear anyway. Secondly, we talk so frequently that there often isn’t something in depth to discuss. Thirdly, how many meaningful conversations does she have with her husband every day? (Very few, apparently). And finally, I like what we do. I like sitting with him virtually while he eats or drives. I like watching him wash when he gets up. I love feeling a part of his every day, mundane life. Because I feel like I am with him.

So in effect, I told her, her only justification is his nationality and that’s not fair.

There is of course a middle ground.

Maybe he wants to migrate. Maybe he wants a multicultural marriage. Maybe he is attracted to podgy 40 year old Brits.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me.

It may mean, like everyone else who dates online, he has made a selection. How is this different to selecting someone by their height, weight or education? Their eye colour, age or political views? Dating apps allow you to filter all the time – why is this so wrong? Arranged marriages have happened for centuries and love wasn’t the indicator of a successful marriage.

So maybe there is a middle ground and he loves me. Or maybe he is an expert liar. Or maybe, just maybe, he met me and fell in love.

Distance – 17th April, 2020 (daily prompt)

Oh WordPress! You couldn’t have chosen a more apt word for me today.

Today, my decree absolute – my divorce – came through. I am legally no longer married.

It is a very surreal feeling. I thought I would feel something but at the moment I feel very little. I don’t hate my ex, we actually get on well. I’m not sorry our marriage ended (I was about to write the opposite until I realised it wasn’t true). I am sorry that it failed and caused hurt. But I am glad that now, the distance between is is finalised. The end of a chapter.

What it has done, is added validity to my new relationship. In my culture, dating whilst separated means nothing. Not so in his. It’s another step towards being with him.

So, on that note, my post today will be about my experiences of a long distance relationship. (I met him online just under six months ago)

  • First of all, no matter what anyone else tells you, you can absolutely fall in love with someone over the Internet and without actually meeting them physically. I certainly did.
  • Don’t underestimate the importance of videochat though. For me, this is how I truly got to/am getting to know him. I would be very wary of anyone who refuses to videochat with you. Videochat means that you get to know them – their facial expressions and gestures, their habits and homelives.
  • Regular communication and routine is vital and a sign that your relationship is progressing. My boyfriend messages me every morning and we always videochat in the evening. As time has moved on, this has evolved – school holidays and corona-quarantine has led to more videochats throughout the day.
  • If there is any reason that your regular routine is going to be interrupted it is essential to let your other half know, ideally beforehand but if not, as soon as you can. Abrupt changes to routine can cause anxiety, jealousy and unnecessary concern.
  • On that note, anxiety and jealousy are heightened in an LDR, particularly in the beginning. This is not just from my own angst ridden experiences but common knowledge. You can worry about the tone of a text, a missed call, a change in routine, an unexpected interruption, a mood change… And if you cannot get hold of your loved one, your mind will work overtime until they get in touch.
  • Without a doubt, trust and communication are the most important things in a relationship, even more so in an LDR. I also think they are initially harder to achieve in an LDR because all you have are words and frequent calls to base this on. But without trust and good communication, a LDR is not going to work. I’m working hard on this each and every day.
  • Part of the trust issue will undoubtedly come from the opinions of some friends and family. You will have to accept that some of the people you love and respect will not be able to accept your relationship. They will not like or understand it. They will be negative. You will also learn, very quickly, about the prejudices and bias of people you have trusted. This will be even more pertinent if, like me, your other half is from another country or culture. Whilst being cautious is important, and most of the people around you will just be looking out for you, you are the only one that truly knows him/her and your relationship.
  • That being said, exercise caution at first particularly if you meet online. There are enough fraudsters out there to break anyone’s heart and that’s the least they could do. Do your research, trust your instincts and keep an open mind. Having a trusted someone at home that you can talk things through is vital – they may see things that you may not and this could be a positive thing for your relationship too (my sisters have successfully pointed out my over worrying many times).
  • If they are from another culture, do your research. You need to understand it in order to understand them: their ideas, beliefs and therefore their reactions and expectations. Researching his culture was some of the best advice I ever received and it was right here from a fellow blogger. It gave me understanding and something to talk to him about.
  • Similarly, don’t underestimate the language barriers. My boyfriend has good and rapidly improving English but some – both hilarious and serious – situations have been caused by language misunderstandings.
  • Some people may disagree with me on this one, but I would suggest meeting up as soon as you are comfortable to and able. You are never really going to know if your relationship has a future until you’ve spent time together. For me, I knew within an hour – when my nerves and shyness allowed me to really see him. But over the course of the week, all the little things he did – things he wasn’t even aware of – are what I fell even deeper in love with.
  • Don’t underestimate the mundane and every day – little details about your day, photos of what you have done and where you have been make them feel a part of your life. My favourite time with my boyfriend is when he props me up on the dining table and I watch and listen as he and his family have tea and talk. I can’t understand and can’t join in but I am there and part of his everyday life.

Finally, you will have to accept that this relationship will be difficult at times. You have the challenges that every new relationship brings AND those that come from distance. You are going to miss them like crazy, each and every day. You are going to crave the physical contact – even just holding hands – more than you have for anyone else. But it’s when you realise that you’d rather have that feeling than holding hands with anyone else that you know that this relationship has a future.

There are lots of blogs, Web pages, YouTube videos and Facebook groups full of advice out there. Don’t be afraid to use them. You are not alone.

Update and reflection – part two

So, I did message in the morning to wish him a good journey, just the once. I didn’t respond when he did because it wasn’t needed.
My calmness was rewarded with messages in the afternoon, a video chat half way on his journey and another when he got home.

Yesterday, his first day back at home, he called me as I was leaving work (which is really early for him), when I got home and then he was messaging me throughout the evening as he visited family.

At one point he called, a silent video, whilst we messaged. We talked about how we had been having amazing sex that time a week before, and it was so hot and exciting to see his guarded but obvious facial expressions as we wrote to each other.

He called again when he got home. Things seemed back to normal. He asked if I missed him. He asked if I loved him. He questioned my feelings, particularly in response to the fact that I have been married.

He struggles with this. He doesn’t believe me when I say that I didn’t feel for my husband like I feel for him. That sex with my husband wasn’t like how it was with him.

I am being entirely truthful when I tell him this. And this, this is the source of my anxiety because it is true. Yes, I loved my husband. We were happy, for a short time. But the majority of our relationship was filled with unhappiness and doubt. I worked so hard to make it work, for years. I told myself: that’s what you do when your married, you work on it. There’s no such thing as a soul mate. You find a good person, accept their flaws and work on it.

The cracks in the relationship with my husband were there in the first year. If I hadn’t got pregnant within the first year, we probably would not have stayed together. But I pulled him along the path of a serious relationship, hoping that each stage would cement those cracks: live together, get engaged, buy a house, get married. They never did. The cracks became a chasm. Years of little or no sexual intimacy. Him sleeping on the couch. An 18 month separation. A third pregnancy from a one-off unprotected sexual encounter in the hope that it would repair the awful sex life we were having following getting back together.

My postnatal depression following the birth of my third child was in direct response to the fact that I knew that nothing had changed. My marriage was over and had been for some years. We stayed together for a couple of years after that, but he slept on the couch, we had no intimacy and we argued continuously.

This feels very different with Wild Card, irrespective of the long distance.


It was getting late as we talked and I told him I would let him sleep as he was in work the next day. He said no. He told me to ‘come here, next to me’ as he lay down, eyes weary.

‘You want me next to you?’ I asked.

‘Yes’. I lay on my bed too and just watched his face as his eyes closed. I could see the softness of his lips, his dark lashes resting on his face. And I was transported back there, to him. When I closed my eyes I could remember the feel of his body next to mine, the sound of his breathing, his smell, my feelings as I lay with him… loving him, and feeling loved in return.

Eventually we said goodnight, sent kisses and ‘I love you’s and the call ended.

Today has been more of the same. A morning call followed by a longer afternoon call where we played games on messenger – that was fun. He played with my youngest for ages too which earned him even more of my affection. Another call on the way home from the gym. And again this evening…

I love every second. I love the way he looked at me tonight. I even love that my sister asked why we were not talking on the phone and he replied:

“She knows me and I know her. We are talking with our eyes.”

And my goodness, were we…

This is what I have got to try to remember when I’m panicking. Days like today.

Morning reflections.

I’ve been up since 4.30am with two vomiting children. Now they’re settled and there is no point in me trying to go back to sleep, it’s given me time to think.

I’m conscious that my last few posts have mainly centred on Wild Card. Don’t think that is because I like him more than Second. My life is never that simple.

I’ve questioned myself about that. I still believe that I like them both but in different ways.

With Wild Card I feel excited and passionate when we talk. He makes me laugh. I’m intrigued by him. But I don’t altogether trust him either which makes me anxious. I can’t believe that he doesn’t have a number of women and I am still surprised that he likes me, although I do believe him when he says he does. You can’t fake some facial expressions. I get the impression that if we were to meet and we liked each other, I would fall hard.

Second is different, culturally as well as feelings wise. He was the front runner for a long time but circumstances – his working at sea for six weeks – has meant that we have only communicated by WhatsApp for the past few weeks. His contact is consistent and regular.

He also makes me laugh – we make each other laugh. We have similar backgrounds and interests. His messages have become more and more affectionate as the weeks have gone on. He is kind and complimentary. And I am attracted to him physically, just slightly less than Wild Card. That’s not a bad thing.

He makes me smile, inside and out. I feel more steady and secure with him, even though there are still no certainties – although he tells me he is certain we will meet.

If the messages, phone calls and video chats are anything to go by, I think we are going to get along well.

But his circumstances are even more difficult than Wild Card’s. Not only does he have a different Nationality to me, which is the reason we have not met yet and won’t do until January (he is spending Christmas at home with his parents), he lives in Scotland and has just bought a house there to be close to his children.

How would a relationship possibly work with him? We live four hours away from each other, when he’s actually in the country and not at sea or visiting his homeland.

So, if anything, I know I’m also wary of falling for him too. The reason I allowed the chats with Wild Card to initiate was to ground my growing interest in Second. Modern dating, remember?

At a friend’s advice, I’ve logged back in to Hinge in attempt to find some more connections to draw myself back into my original ‘flirt and date’ game plan. It’s not working. Despite some interest, I’ve found that I’m half-heartedly messaging back which is unfair to all involved.

The advice I have received on here has been sound and I am grateful for it. I need to keep pulling myself back, enjoy what I have in this moment. I haven’t met either man yet!!! I need to calm down. I’ve had the no-connection dates which had previously held so much promise. There is every chance that a date with either of them would turn into nothing and I am breaking the cardinal rule of no-textationships.

Grounded, grounded, grounded. Live in the moment. Learn and grow. Be open to all possibilities, good and bad.

Wish me luck.