disillusioned

This used to be so glamorous.

The jetsetting world, the flat in London, the first class train rides, the parties, the booze, the networking and endless bouts of meetings (which were really just professional seduction with pastries).

I am not ashamed to admit I love being wanted. Being spoiled, catered for, listened to and entertained.

And I used to love that my job puts me in a position lots of other people want to make me feel this way. (on top of the whole valuable, inspiring, life affirming things it's really about).

But this time around it's just not enough.

4 days in London is a slog - especially when it's only the first of three trips like this before a month has passed.


Before, I'd book back to back meetings, shopping/posh gallery over lunch and spend every evening out. Usually my four evenings in the big city were taken up with the following:
see a show
go to a party
go to a lecture/talk/event
work more
cavort with old friends and gossip.

This trip I have/will:
go to bed early after a failed dinner attempt
watch the bridges of madison county on tv (it's terrible, but I still cried)
work.

I am desperate for my own bed and a good long spoon.

Half of me hopes I wake from this unforseen funk and the other half is completely ready to walk away from the whole thing. and there is some secret part of me that is wondering if perhaps this is what grownups meant by 'settling down'.