Show and Tell

There are rules about the right time to discuss certain things when dating. For example, it is said that you shouldn’t talk about past relationships on the first date. On the other hand, it tends to be preferable if it’s mentioned before then if the ex isn’t actually ex. I felt a bit ridiculous while out for dinner with a guy and when I asked him who he lived with, he replied, ‘my kids…and their mum.’

It’s also best not to come on too strong, too early on. Like the bloke I met online dating who told me that he was going to get a dog, but not to worry cause if we went away for the weekend together he’d get his sister to look after it. I wouldn’t have minded but we hadn’t even finished our starters.

And obviously there’s an appropriate time to reveal that you suffer from depression.

I just didn’t get the memo informing me when that was.

Sorry if you were hoping that I was going to impart some wise words of wisdom. I’m not the best person to give advice when it comes to matters of the heart. In fact a therapist pointed out that I hadn’t had a serious relationship in [cough] years and wanted us to work on that. She reckoned that subconsciously I probably thought that I was going to die after having my disease, so don’t believe there is any point. Perhaps. One thing I was sure of though, with her sessions costing an extortionate [cough cough] pounds, I wasn’t going to be working through my issues with her. It would be cheaper to just buy myself a boyfriend.

I can make one suggestion though. Which is, that when it comes to the whole depression thingy, it’s far better to Tell than to Show. And I happen to know this from experience.

My Friend had been visiting me in Manchester for a few days. We’d had an amazing time. An uhmazing time. I’d even go so far as to say an amazeballs time. That’s how good it was. I was on a high.

So naturally I was starting to get nervous. Cause the law of gravity and depression states that what goes up, must come down.

I was going to be travelling to Scotland on the train with my Friend . He was going home, I was going to see my parents for a few days. I started packing and the anxiety started kicking in. I just couldn’t work out what clothes to take. Which was especially crazy cause since being threatened with a £360 excess baggage fee when I was going to study in Canada, I’ve become a shit-hot packer. I mentioned to the Friend that I was struggling. I think he thought I was just being a girl.

We eventually made it on to the train. Me with my whole wardrobe. We snuggled up together and watched a film on his iPad. I cried at the end of it. Friend gave me a look. A lot like the one your mum used to give you when you were about to have a tantrum in the supermarket cause she wouldn’t buy you sweets. That ‘don’t you dare embarrass me’ look. Understandable as we were sitting at a table across from two business men. Even more understandable as the film wasn’t particularly sad. We weren’t watching The Champ. Or E.T. It was a Steve Carell film.

Stopped for a chippy tea after getting off the train and made our way to his house. And that is when the meltdown properly began. The floodgates opened. I cried and I cried and I cried. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t talk to him. I couldn’t listen to him. I couldn’t think straight. I just felt numb. For absolutely no reason at all.

Anyone would think I didn’t enjoy my dinner but it was one of my favourites – a spicy haggis supper (which as much as I wish it was, is definitely not a euphemism.) There was absolutely nothing to be greetin’ about, which just made it all the worse. I asked Friend to take me to my parents house.

He sent me a message later on. ‘I’m really worried about you.’

I replied ‘I don’t want you to worry about me. I can’t deal with worrying about you, worrying about me, so might be best if we finish this.’

Seems that therapist might have had a point.

If it makes you happy
It can’t be that bad
If it makes you happy
Then why the hell are you so sad?
Sheryl Crow – If It Makes You Happy

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