“There are people we meet in life who miss being important to us by inches, days, or heartbeats. Another place or time or a different emotional frame of mind and we would willingly fall into their arms; gladly take up their challenge or invitation. But as it is, we encounter them when we are discontent or content and they are not. Whatever they are, we are not and vice versa. Two trains going in different directions that pass for a few powerful moments at full speed, blasting noise and wind but then they are gone. Whatever serious chemistry might have been possible if, isn’t.” – Jonathon Carroll
“It’s just not the right time.”
“Maybe later on in life.”
“If I had have met you a couple of months ago…”
You have either said something along those lines or you have been told so – or, if you’ve lived, loved, and (actually put yourself out there) tried enough, you’ve been both.
Timing’s a bitch. Innit?
Your feelings are always a gamble. And despite Sportsbet’s constant reminder, we don’t gamble responsibly. How are you going to know if you don’t give it a go? *Shoulder shrug emoji*
You meet someone at what seems like the right time. “Ah, I’ve been waiting for you.”
You don’t stop to think about whether it’s that particular person you’ve been waiting for, or whether you’ve missed the familiar touch of a hand on yours. The burning feeling of a kiss on the cheek. The satisfying, sore feeling after a night full of… strenuous activities…
We blame flings that don’t turn into relationships on ‘not the right time.’
Long term relationships, summer romances, fleeting moments.
It just wasn’t the right time.
Right person, wrong time.
Wrong person, right time.
The same shit. Over and over. We (almost always) blame it on time.
You chew your friends’ ears off, (over)analysing what went wrong and why she’s better, and they do the same to you. And the reason is almost always, because you met him at the wrong time.
When I was young, dumb and… young and dumb, I had a crush on one of my friends. As luck would have it, he had a crush on one of his. My galpals tried to comfort me in telling me that it just ‘wasn’t the right time’ for him and I.
‘Maybe in the future,’ was what they said.
I asked, ‘yeah but how farrrr into the future?’ (whiny 15 yr old girl voice).
They said, ‘I dunno, maybe like in three years. Probably when we’re in year 12 or something.’
I couldn’t help thinking, well fuck me that’s a bloody long time! He’s not worth waiting that long for!
That thought there begs the question – if he’s not worth the wait, is timing what I can blame?
And here lies the answer –
3 years later came and went. We had remained friends and liked different people and gave each other advice. After getting my poor lil feels hurt from one (who I thought was) special boy, he was my shoulder to cry on and ear to whinge (incessantly) to.
And, naturally, that 15 year old crush started to seep back into my head like fog on a cold Canberra morning.
Feelings came and settled in. Shared and not quite received. Took some time to leave again.
I, he, and the effervescent, loving galpals of mine, blamed it on timing yet again.
Could we really blame it on that?
Or, god forbid, dare I say that classic cliche… we just weren’t meant to be.
(Which we definitely weren’t and I sure as heck know that now).
I met a boy two weeks ago. Literally a week or so before I was due to move back home. He was fucking gorgeous, man. Like typically good looking. The type of looks you’d write books about [and that I probs will do]. We met at one of my favourite spots in Sydney, on that fateful day I decided it would be a really fucking good idea to trek 6.4km to the city centre at 5:30am, all because the bus drivers in the inner west were on strike. I was tired, delusional, and 47% could have made the guy up had I not received a text from him the day after.
I was almost kicking myself that it wouldn’t work out.
Wouldn’t, because fuck attempting a long distance fling when I can’t even be bothered to date someone a 10 minute drive away. I’ve even tried the cross-seas thing and it sure as hell ain’t for me.
So I didn’t try. Because all these 23 years has taught me a lot about myself, and a lot of that is: I fall hard and fast when I know it’s not right for me. Because, you know, sense.
Timing has a funny way of showing you there’s something better for you yet.
Trust the fuck out of it.
24 year old writer, just trying to find her way through the world through words and funny anecdotes.