Summer break's over, winter angst is here

Earlier this year, I stopped blogging out of general ennui. I felt my life was boring and I was unhappy about several things: my mother's fading health is upsetting, I still have too many cats, Ian* pretty much ignores me, and I haven't really scored another boyfriend. But I've recently decided to get back on track anyway. I'm determined to fix what's wrong with my life.

With the exception of last month (November), there's not a lot to write about. I did find another lover, although the erotic levels never reached what I had with The Cub. He was/is a doctor's son, married with twin 13-year olds, with an incredible dragon tattoo under his Ralph Lauren button-down shirts. 

And James* has resurfaced again, although he has done this now and then for two years now. 

But the news I'm hating to share is that I think I may be falling for someone who is single, younger than me, has Facebook-pursued me for seven years, met me once in 2014 for dinner and a snog, and kept inviting me to visit him in Cincinnati. (So I'll call him Cincinnati*.)

I finally did so last month and visited Cincinnati for two days before taking in some Chicago museums. But now I am totally confused.

Here's what happened:

Shortly before I arrived, Cincinnati fell off his bicycle and fractured his elbow. It was/is painful, but not suitable for a cast.

After I arrived, Cincinnati developed tinnitis in one ear. So he was even more miserable. 

A few days later, I was checking out his Instagram photos and inadvertently messaged a female friend of his, who sent me a strange message back even after I explained that I'd clicked on her by mistake. Shortly afterwards, Cincinnati sent me an Instagram message asking me what I was doing messaging his friends. It was if he thought I was some jealous stalker weirdo. 

I was so upset about the Instagram incident that I ditched my account (I never used it much anyway) and shut off Facebook for a while. After a few days I wrote Cincinnati a letter and included a screen grab of my Instagram conversation with the friend I'd mistakenly clicked on, as I strongly suspected she had lied about my initial contact with her and portrayed me as a jealous stalker weirdo.

Although Cincinnati never responded to the letter, I finally wrote him a short email and asked how he was, explaining that I hadn't "unfriended" him on Facebook, just turned it off for a while. He politely replied almost immediately and said that his tinnitis had turned into a numb face, vertigo and lack of taste, and he was scheduled for an MRI. This frightened me. But he said nothing about the letter, or my visit, or anything else. 

There's more to this, but ultimately I've decided that if he spazzes about one mistaken Instagram click, he might not be a good candidate for a relationship. Which upsets me as he's an incredibly good kisser.

* See The Usual Suspects.