The Gymnast

Sometimes in life you will get something you have wanted for a long, long time, and it will live up to everything you dreamed it would be. The Gymnast was one of those things.

For a long time I believed he was gay. He is insanely hot, very pretty, and (obviously) a gymnast. He’s also a sweetheart. It all just screamed gay to me.

Then, on finding out he is in fact not gay, I was certain he wouldn’t be interested in me. I met him when I was pregnant and we have always got on. Since my husband left we’ve spoken more and more, but I never imagined he would be fancy me.

Then, on finding out he did in fact fancy me, I assumed there was no way he would actually be as amazing in reality as he had been in my head.

Again… I was wrong. So… very… wrong.

It turns out that I am a rubbish assessor of people. I then assumed that someone that he was just a pretty face and a hot body. Perfect for sex, perfect for laughter, but not someone I’d actually be interested in further than that.

Wrong again!

He listens to jazz, he talks about space, religious philosophy and films. He is smart, he is funny, and he is charming. Every night we were together we talked for hours and about real things, fascinating things. He talked with passion and knowledge. He told me personal things about himself, he opened up to me, and I to him.

The casual fling for fun went on for weeks. It started to change.

It had to end.

I am a single mum, still married, and not feeling emotionally strong enough for a relationship. He is a twenty three year old gymnast who travels the world and wants to be a stuntman in California. These are not two things that combine to make anything more than heartache and anxiety.

It was fun, and it was exciting, but had I let it go on for much longer I would have started to feel things I couldn’t let myself feel. I don’t know if he would feel the same things, but we discussed it, and both agreed it wasn’t the right situation for either of us.

We decided it would be the last time. Finito. Over.

That lasted approximately four days.

I saw him at the swimming pool, he held my hand in the Jacuzzi and we talked and laughed. He kissed me in the steam room and made my head spin. Such close proximity to someone so sexy and so lovely crushed my will power.

A few days later I ended it again. I had to. Part of me aches for it, the sex was intense, the conversation was amazing, but part of me is certain that it can’t happen anymore. I cannot let that situation happen.

What if I were to fall, if I were to allow myself to feel the things that I am resisting feeling? The idea of another man rejecting my affections, another man leaving me when I am emotionally vulnerable, terrifies me. My husband leaving me left me wounded, it left me able to handle anything except that kind of heartache. Too much of me has gone into coping with the heartache he caused me to go adding additional pain to it. And if he were to accept? Then I would find myself in a relationship with someone who is inappropriate for me, and allowing someone back into my life in a way I am not yet ready to handle.

Plus, and this is a biggy, he trains for hours every day, and didn’t get to me until 1030 or 11 at night. Which meant that taking into account the hours we spent together, I wasn’t getting into bed until gone 3am. And getting up at 5 with Miss Rose. It was starting to ruin me!

My first exploration of a man in my life following my marriage breaking down was brilliant. It taught me a lot. It taught me that I am sexy. It taught me that men I am attracted to are attracted to me. It taught me a lot about sex, because believe me, I had never felt anything like that. Mostly it taught me that even when someone is totally right for you in so many ways, it doesn’t mean they are right for you, and it’s okay to acknowledge that. It is okay to allow someone into your life for a short time, to bring excitement and happiness, to bring passion and fun, but to let them leave before they bring any negatives.

There are people in the world who are for days, some for weeks, and some for life. I thought The Gymnast would be for days, turns out he was for weeks. But he definitely wasn’t for life. They were pretty damn amazing weeks though.


About J.J. Barnes

Author of The Lilly Prospero Series Writer and Podcaster at Blogger at Rose And Mum And More Contributor to The Huffington Post
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3 Responses to The Gymnast

  1. singlemum3 says:

    oh wow what an awesome episode in your life, thanks for sharing! and for giving me (another single mum) hope about dating again 🙂

  2. Pingback: Babysitters | Single Mum And More

  3. Pingback: Not A Slut! | Single Mum And More

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