Well, that was awkward

So, for the first time in almost four weeks I just saw the man, to return some things he lent me for the move. I was not at all prepared for how uncomfortable I would feel; and if I’d been wearing trainers, it’s quite possible I might have broken some kind of land speed record…… in the manner of Thrust SSC. Not because I hate him, nor because I feel ‘spiteful or angry’ towards him, (his words in the text he sent in response to my message of apology for my manner. Although he did concede these imaginary emotions were justified), but because my feelings for him were more profound than I had obviously realised. I was not, however, surprised to receive his interpretation of my sharp exit. It’s always (in the almost one year together) been incredible to me how he sees the rest of the world as ‘angry’, difficult’ or ‘complicated’. It’s his default setting, the first words out of his mouth. Yet he is none of these things. Apparently people are not capable of other, softer emotions. I quite literally did not know how to speak to him. I was tongue tied. I had no words……

I am disappointed, beyond words, that it didn’t work. Because for me it was not ‘sporadically ok’, it was great. I’m disappointed too that to justify his decision he chooses to forget and/or ignore this. (Or maybe it was just shit for him, the entire year). However, my head is full of fab memories, his words and actions and my phone is full of a year of messages of love and photos of us and times we shared. Little hints at an annus horribilis. I am angry with myself, yes – for being so stupid as to think this relationship was different. To think that someone close to fifty would be certain about what they want from a relationship. I’m deeply saddened that that is quite literally it – he’s not part of my life anymore, and I will never know about how he is or what he’s doing or how he’s progressing. That is one of the saddest things about important people who pass through your life for a short time. Actually, it’s the saddest thing about all people who pass through. Except probably I’ll hear on the grapevine that he’s happily married, in three years time, because he’s studied at the Anne PANK Emotional Finishing School, and graduated with the next woman in his life. With honours. Because that’s what usually happens. Natch. And the barrio of Sant Antoni is smaaaalllll……

And I’m confused by fucking everything – that just three weeks before we broke up, we were having a passionate weekend in the Cerdanya and I sent my friend in the UK a message saying that we were experiencing a second wave of falling in love. How could I get it so wrong? Was I living in an alternate universe relationship? I’m not a stupid woman (say nothing). The mind boggles.

And what’s pretty brutal, is that I’ve realised this time round that I want the fucking fairytale, and that annoys the holy crap out of me. Because I’m the one who is pragmatic, I’m realistic, I know that shit ain’t real. I’m good on my own, but if I’m with someone who’s special – then I want it to work-the-hell-out! Fuck. Me! Where’s the bloody frustration font??!

Pragmatic, realistic – or so I led myself to believe. Just this once I’d like to hear, ‘I’m sorry, I made a mistake, I can’t live without you.’ And that makes my skin crawl. I detest that I feel that way.

So fuck you too, Mr Disney.

So, along with his electric screwdriver (goddam it, I’m going to miss that. It was all kinds of loaded-pistol-shaped freaking awesomeness!) and the luggage he let me use – I returned an unopened bottle of vintage cava we were keeping to celebrate our first anniversary: and a ring that he gifted me before the summer. I have no use for such sentimentalities now, or rather, I don’t want them in my new house – as yet devoid of memories. Maybe I’ll keep it that way……… Due to its significance, I would never wear the ring again in my life, so why have it? And tempted as I was to drink all the cava, I finally couldn’t bring myself to open it.

Cutlery organiser

And so, I have just taken delivery of some shelves for the kitchen and a cutlery organiser, so that’ll keep me busy and happy this evening. Tidy drawers, tidy mind………… Or something.

There it is. I have no need to speak to him, I have no need to see him. We’re done.

The end.

-final credits roll-


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