It should have been me?

A month or so ago as I was walking to work something unusual happened – I saw a man I was actually attracted to, and it has been playing on my mind ever since.

The walk to work from the station would kill me with tedium if I didn't take different routes.  I like wandering round the back streets of London.  I like the street names, evocative of trading days of old; the architecture and the picturesque squares.  I walk along in a world of my own, wondering what life used to be like here in times gone by.  These detours make a welcome change from the commuters marching along Fleet Street, looking down at the pavement, steadfastly avoiding any eye contact with another human being.    

I don’t pay others around me much interest.  That day, however, was different, I locked eyes briefly with a man walking towards me.  He glanced away and carried on walking, probably not even registering me.  But seeing him took my breath away, my heart beat faster, my hearing was suddenly more acute, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, everything seemed brighter and lighter.  It's a wonder I didn't look up to see Snow White's bluebirds fluttering over my head.  This wasn't just any man either, this was someone I once knew.  

We were friends so long ago that it seems like another lifetime. He wanted to be more than just friends, but I didn't.  He was funny, clever, sweet, thoughtful, caring and reliable - why would I want a man like that? I was attracted to his friend, who had no interest in me whatsoever, who in fact went out of his way to avoid me.  After a year or so, I moved away due to work, forgot about the one who avoided me and moved on to another unsuitable man, but stayed in touch for a while by letter with my 'just friends' friend.  That petered out and I haven't seen or heard from him since.   It struck me how instantly I recognised him and how much I remembered about him, whereas I remember virtually nothing about his friend, the one I had thought I was mad about. 

I didn't even have time to say his name before he was gone.  I spent the rest of my walk to work trying to work out exactly when I became so attracted to him.   He was recognisable, obviously older than when we last met, but still looking a good few years younger than he must actually be, more confident than before, now wearing glasses and with a little less hair, but I was sure it was him.  

Since then I have thought about him from time to time.  Occasionally and pointlessly I have indulged in 'what if' thoughts; 'what if we had got together?'; 'what if he saw me too and is wondering about me'.  The latter is unlikely, he didn't show any sign of recognition and I am all over the internet like a rash, it would take him 2.3 seconds to find me.  This weekend, hungover and low on willpower, I thought about him again and very foolishly searched for him.  Nick Hornby, in 'High Fidelity', wrote that lesson for all of us.  There is a reason why we are no longer with people from our past , it’s not because fate conspired against us, it’s because that is what we chose.

I tried to tell myself I just wanted to see a photo out of curiosity, in case it hadn’t actually been him.  But the reality is that in my red-wine stupor, I was starting down the Mills & Boon track of ‘passed-over lovers reunited’.  The photo I found proved that it had been the same person.  It also showed, unsurprisingly, that he is now a very happily married man.   I wondered briefly if that life could have been my life, but I get bored by the same journey to work.  My life is different from his because I haven’t stayed two years with the same partner, let alone twenty.   I dallied with the thought that with the right person I may have settled down and maybe he had been the right person, but if he was, I have to write that off to experience.

Fear not, my dalliance with internet stalking is over.  I do feel I have behaved quite creepily just by looking him up - he is a stranger now and deserves his privacy.  I wish I hadn't looked him up, both to maintain his privacy and my dignity. No more holidays to the past for me, but the next time I decide a man is too steadfast for me, I might investigate the truth in that before passing him over for someone unobtainable.