“It must have been love, but it’s over now” – Roxette
Before we jump back in I’m going to take us to a thought I had while watching ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ long before I met Jamie (stick with me, it is relevant). I think it must have been either season 2 or season 3, it was basically the whole Buffy & Angel love story. In case you are unfamiliar: Angel is hot and broody, the older guy and vampire who falls for Buffy, the vampire slayer, but really he shouldn’t fall for her. When he feels ‘happiness’ with Buffy (sex), he turns evil.
Heartbroken Buffy goes off the rails. When she is strong enough mentally to kill him, he turns good again, she sends him to hell and he comes back all remorseful, hot and needy. If you haven’t seen it, you kinda get the picture. It’s the typical teenage love story but with vampires.
Why do I bring this up? I remember thinking ‘Wow I’ve never felt like that about anyone, I want to find my Angel’. Falling in love as a teenager is meant to be all head over heels crazy romantic and bonkers breakups. A lot of my friends had been in those intense relationships but it had never happened for me. So watching the Buffy and Angel passion made me sad, even though I knew it was totally unrealistic. I felt sad because by my mid-twenties, I hadn’t felt anything like that and so many people around me were in serious relationships. I was beginning to think I was unlovable and incapable of giving love because it was usually me who broke off relationships after a month. I had been in one long-term relationship at Uni but I hadn’t really loved him. So I guess somewhere in my subconscious, I wanted to have an intensely passionate relationship that would turn into a disaster…
After six months of sext messages, early morning/late night phone calls and a lot of longing, I stepped off the plane.; The tropical heat hit me, and I instantly began to sweat. Cairns, the gateway to the Great Barrier Reef is a town with a big tourist attraction and not much else. But it had Jamie, and that’s all I cared about. The airport is small, so it didn’t take me long to get through baggage claim. The anxiety of seeing Jamie again was building, luckily I’d already been through customs at Brisbane so I was out the arrival doors quickly. As I walked out I spotted him straight away.
The typical Aussie and his Ute. Shorts, a tight T-shirt and aviator sunglasses. I began to relax; this was a good decision. I felt calm, nervous and excited all at once. As Jamie casually strolled towards me, it was weirdly awkward and romantic all at once. We embraced first, I breathed in his scent, cigarettes and aftershave. The endorphins began to kick in, and then we kissed; it felt like the first time, all the right amount of pressure and not too eager, but this time with an extra bit of need and desire thrown in. The kiss was quick. The quicker, the better, I wanted to get to his place. And well, you can guess what happened there.
When we finally came back up for air, I did a bit of yoga whilst he cooked dinner. It was mad, like within 48 hours, I’d gone from leaving home and my life in the UK to being a part of Jamie’s life. It felt good. We spent the balmy evening sitting out on his veranda, watching the world go by, talking about music, switching the music between our favourite rock bands, drinking and enjoying being with each other. It was bliss. I could hold his hand or drape my leg over his and look into his eyes as we talked, there was nothing virtual about being there. It was real.
We’d spent our final conversations of being long-distance planning my arrival. Jamie had taken the week off work and we went on an Australian adventure camping in the outback. How Australian! I was well excited. We packed up the Ute and headed up to the Daintree. I’m guessing when you think of Australia the images that pop up are of beaches and arid deserts. Queensland has a lot of that but north of Cairns there are rainforests all lush and green and that’s where we headed and camped out in the ‘bush’. Again. How Australian!
Not gonna lie that week was awesome. Pitching the tent in secluded spots by rivers and lakes, taking in the views of Cape Kimberley and Cape Tribulation, discovering deserted beaches with dragon lizards waddling by. It was a side of Australia I hadn’t experienced on my first trip. There wasn’t a single backpacker in sight! And what made it extra special was that Jamie was sharing his Australia, the places he loved and had discovered. You could tell he wasn’t a city boy. It made me feel special that he was taking me to these places.
On a high from our week away and excited about living with Jamie, I found a cash-in-hand waitressing job and joined a yoga studio. We fell into a routine and a life together, like a proper couple. When Jamie headed off to work I’d either go for a swim in the apartment complex’s communal pool, or go to yoga class. Then I’d go to work a couple of evenings a week. On paper it was great but I started to get this nagging feeling that things weren’t quite right.
After a couple of months, I began feeling like a caged bear. I was pretty isolated and this was the first time I had really stopped. Whenever I had a break in work previously I was constantly on the lookout for the next job. When I was off travelling I was always planning where I was going to next. The isolation got to me , the only person I really spoke to was Jamie. We went out together but he never introduced me to his friends. I began to feel like he was hiding me, like I was his dirty secret.
A friend of his came round unannounced one evening. Jamie wasn’t happy. His friend looked me up and down with suspicion and distaste. He kept asking why Jamie wasn’t going out. Jamie kept coming up with excuses like he was saving to buy a house, and it’s cheaper to drink at home. So why didn’t he invite people over instead? The whole interaction left me confused, this was meant to be one of his best friends.
Then there was the night we’d gone out for dinner in town. Cairns is like any other beach town; the restaurants are out by the esplanade overlooking the sea. We were seated outside, it was dark but still hot, the sounds of the waves crashing in the background, letting us know the sea was still there. I had been finding the heat of Queensland stifling, plus not being introduced to Jamie’s friends and his drinking had begun to bother me. He drank a lot more than I had suspected expected. I can’t remember exactly what we were talking about but it opened the door for me to take a deep breath and think “Fuck it, I’m going in.” I asked the question that had been bothering me since I had arrived…
“Well, aren’t I your girlfriend?”
His reply: “No, you’re just the girl who lives with me …”
He looked up at me as his voice trailed off. I think he realised by the look on my face that adding “and I sleep with” wasn’t going to cut it. I was stunned into silence.
My face got hot and I could feel the tears begin to build around my eyes. Before they leaked out I excused myself and went to the toilets.
‘Holy fuck! When he told me he loved me he hadn’t meant I love you in the: I want to be with you way. He meant I love having you around and giving me attention.’
I felt like an idiot. We were not on the same page with where this relationship was going. Everything began to slot into place; he was always drunk when we were on the phone for those two-hour conversations where he told me how much he loved me and couldn’t wait to see me again. He was lonely and on his own in that flat in Sydney and while I wanted to comfort him, I realised he actually liked being on his own and miserable. I’m not sure about the miserable bit, but in that moment it felt that way.
To make things worse we’d just booked to go to his parent’s place for Christmas and a non-refundable trip to Tasmania for New Year. I dusted myself off and went back to dinner. Jamie acted as if nothing had happened. I mean I know guys can be clueless but he must have known saying what he had just said had upset me.
I don’t think I hated Jamie then or now as I write this. Most of all I feel pity. In my view, he was protecting himself from hurt. Annoyingly, I was just a distraction. After this, I think I started seeing him for who he was and had a little less tolerance. When he got drunk he would get angry and say weird shit to me, sometimes making out like I was the problem in his life. Conveniently, because he was drunk, he would never remember it the following day. When I’d bring it up, he’d just shrug it off with the ‘It’s not my problem you’re too sensitive’ look. I was beginning to understand why his sister Sarah had knocked his teeth out when they were kids.
I stuck out staying with Jamie longer than I should have. I wanted to see Sarah and Sanjay at Christmas, and the optimist in me still had hope that he might realise I meant more to him than just a live-in shag.
Fast forward to Tasmania, we’d just spent Christmas with his family, which was a car crash of emotions, but I managed to hold it together. The Tasmanian trip was fun but mostly a bit of a blur. I remember sitting on the roof of the camper van we’d hired, everything was still and the sky was clear and dotted with stars. When the fireworks began I started to cry. It was a beautiful and romantic moment and I knew that that was it. The epic love story was over. I still loved him but knew he couldn’t love me back in the way I wanted. In a week I wasn’t going to see him again.
With fireworks dancing in the sky, Jamie turned to me and said:
“Ugh you’re not crying again are you?”
I would love to say I came back with a cutting remark. Instead, I cried some more. I was stung by his lack of empathy, I’d spent the last ten months listening to his loneliness and comforting him and he had nothing for me.
Our final farewell was on a wall in Melbourne, which was nothing like the fountain in India. A half-crumbling wall, looking out onto the city. There was a hug and promises of keeping in touch but on the inside, I was ready to break and cry without being judged. I guess I had found my Angel. All sweet, good-looking, brooding, reluctant to fall in love but he did anyway. Then when he had me where he wanted me, his true self was revealed. To be fair he didn’t turn into a murderous vampire, but he did hurt me.
After leaving Melbourne, I spent a week with my sister in Brisbane, where I moped before getting on my flight to New Zealand. It was needed. Katy and Jonny looked after me and then I was recharged enough to get to my final destination.
From the moment I landed in Auckland, I was off. Within two weeks I had a job, a place to live and friends. I’d even found a new Jamie. Irish Jamie came into my life and I had not laughed so much in years. He was one of my many housemates. I lived in a house where at one point I was the only female in a house of 13 males. It was chaos. After I got over the fact that Irish Jamie was called Jamie we hit it off, as friends. We’d go to yoga together and go out on adventures in town in his van, he’d practise reiki on me (I was the worst patient, I’d giggle constantly). We went on bigger adventures like the one to Rotorua with German Thomas, hiking the Tongariro crossing, the land of Mordor and hobbits.
I was settled and having fun. I felt like I was finally where I was meant to be. Yes, there was still part of me that wanted to hear from Australian Jamie. We kept in touch for a bit; then it fizzled out. Then, out of the blue, I received a message on Facebook:
“How you doin’ sweet cheeks! Nice photography, hang on a minute I took that! Port Arthur if I’m not mistaken? J x”
I had finally got around to posting the photos from our Tasmania trip to Facebook. After the shock of receiving the message, (and the rage at how he felt he could drop me a message acting all familiar since we hadn’t spoken in months) had passed, I replied:
“It is indeed Port Arthur, had you been drinking when you sent that message? I must ask, what’s with the sweet cheeks?! I don’t think anyone has ever dared call me that. Em x”
Now I’m going to bullet point his reply because it was long and reading it now makes me want to gag.
- Yes, he had been drinking,
- He interpreted my offence at the term ‘sweet cheeks’ as though I had a complex about my cheeks?!
- Then he said he intended to praise and nurture me! – WTF! I hadn’t spoken or messaged with him for months and where was all that praise and nurturing when I was in Cairns or on the roof of the camper van in Tasmania?!!!!
- Then he went on with some flowery drivel about how I was his English Rose. I think a bit of sick came into my mouth when I read that bit.
The rose-tinted glasses of love had gone. His long grammatically correct messages no longer made me swoon, they just made me mad.
It took me two months to calm down enough to write a reply. There were many. Finally, I settled on:
“Whatever”.
I’m proud of younger Emily for that, but older Emily would have sent:
“FUCK YOU!”
I’m grateful, in a way, to Australian Jamie, if I hadn’t met him, would I have made it to New Zealand and the friends and the fun that I had there? Would I have even made it to burlesque classes? Because It wasn’t long after that message exchange that I started looking into them.
So what was next for Flynn the adventurer? I’m unsure of which tale to tell next but you can get advanced notification of its release by signing up to my mailing list here.
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