1066 All Stars

The Other Karen

Long before I met Karen, there was this girl called Karen. Okay, this getting confusing. Let’s wind back a little bit.

Coming out of University, my experience with the ladies amounted to no more than a drunken snog with one solitary girl. I had no confidence in myself as being in any way attractive but gradually I began to build a semblance of confidence in myself as a person.

Whilst working at the bookies, various cashiers would come and go, either in my base branch or at branches I was asked to cover. But there are two ladies who stand out above all the others.

The first was the special lady from Wales. I never told her this, but I had an outrageous crush on her. She just seemed so kind and lovely. She made me laugh and she made me smile and a part of me (that I buried deep down, locked inside a box that had a label on it that read, ‘as if, you fat loser’ ) wished that we could be more than friends.

Of course for those keeping score, this is a repeating pattern. This was the third girl to enter my life in any sort of meaningful way whom I pined over. In hindsight, I recognise that I simply craved affection and validation, themes that have very much stayed with me, but which at the time were misdirected.

And then there was Karen. On a team night out, we had a drunken snog. Of course I thought I had hit the jackpot. ‘This is it!’ I thought. ‘I’ve gone and scored myself an actual girlfriend. And she’s hot, too!’

Alas it wasn’t to be. She wasn’t interested and we didn’t cross paths again in any meaningful way for some months. But by chance we found ourselves out together one night. Everyone else had blown us out and so we went out just the two of us and really hit it off. We would get drunk, eat filthy chicken, rip off the ‘Bud’ bit of the Budweiser label and give it to each other. We enjoyed each others company and laughed at those who thought there was anything more going on. We were happy just being mates.

Except of course I wasn’t. Oh come on, an attractive girl who liked spending time with me? How did you expect me to feel?

And so I buried the feeling deep, pretending that I was happy just being mates. Pretending I wasn’t bothered when she cast glances at other guys. Pretending I wasn’t heartbroken when she hooked up with a boyfriend.

One night we kissed. To my surprise, she instigated it and I pulled away. As much as I wanted to, I knew that she was drunk and would regret it in the morning. She would see it as a drunken mistake when to me it would have been so much more. And so we went on just being friends.

Eventually she moved away. I went to see her and we had fun but the feelings remained. I was due to see her again another weekend but, having made a drunken commitment to my (future) best man, called her the next day to say, ‘Sorry, I won’t come and see you because I fancy you and it’s not fair on me to keep putting myself in this position.’ Blimey, that was surprisingly assertive of me.

Some time later, we reconnected. I had moved on, meeting my future wife and the feelings I had held previously were placed into context; affection and fondness mistaken for love.

It sounds pathetic but the truth is, this was the closest I came to a relationship until I met Karen (er, the real one). We went to Thorpe Park together for my birthday. Sometimes we held hands. It almost felt like being a couple.

But it was an illusion and an unhealthy one. The feelings were only ever one sided. Friends told me, warned me the path I was walking. But I ignored them, not wanting to admit the damage I was doing to my psyche in my desperation to share her company and receive her validation.

That it was never meant to be was no more apparent than how quickly I got over these feelings when Karen (you know, my w..oh, forget it) came walking through the door for an interview. Something we shall look at next time.

Sadly we since fell out of contact, which I consider a shame. Whatever other (inappropriate) feelings I may have had, we were first and foremost very good friends.

Oh, and the special lady from Wales? She is still from Wales and she’s still a lady. But most of all, she is still very, very special.