I have realised that last year was very poignant for many reasons. It consisted of many difficult conversations, feelings of elation, uncertainity and sadness.
It all started back in Dec 2008 when my sister got married. It was a lovely day but there were a few moments of upset when I said that I would organise her hen party. I left it to the very last minute, upset my sister and cried alot. I realised that I was jealous of her. She has a family and a husband/soulmate. What do I have? Nothing…..single, getting older, no sign of a partner or children on the horizon.
Then, at the wedding, an old friend of ours arrived at the evening reception. We seemed to have an instant flirtation between us. We danced and laughed together all night. We realised that we didn’t want the night to end, so we got a taxi back to my flat. We then had breakfast in the morning with the family at the local cafe. When he left to get the train back to London, we said that we would take things steady and see what happens.
Over the next few months we spent the weekends together, mainly in London. I was happy that I may have found my prince charming. I knew that he wanted a family and we got on well together. I could get over the 17 year age gap. He was young at heart and didn’t look his age. I was beginning to think that this could be the start of something amazing.
However, after two months, we were out having dinner at an italian restaurant and ended up talking about ‘us’. He announced that he didn’t see us lasting any more than three or four months and that he didn’t know why we were together. How did fate put us together? He was analysing it and thinking too much. Why couldn’t he just be with the moment and see where that leads us? In that instant my bubble burst.
In March 2009, we went to Regents Park and sat down on the grass. The sun was shining. I picked up vibes that he was being ‘offish’. I asked what was wrong and he that he felt it wasn’t working. So after a long conversation and many uncomfortable silences, we decided to break up. I wanted to run away, get the train home and never see him again. However, I stayed and we walked around London, he was crying, I was crying. We drank lots of tea and then concluded that we actually could try again and ‘see what happens’.
The next few months were more or less the same. I would go to London on a Friday afternoon and get the train back to Brighton on Sunday evening. During the week, we did our own things and spoke once or twice. We weren’t really missing each other during the week. The weekends were lovely being together. Sometimes we would argue. I found myself learning things from him and also realising new things about myself. I realised that he could wind me up and I would lose my temper in such a way that I hadn’t done before. He would say that he loved me, but I knew it wasn’t the love that I was wanting….it was more of a ‘love you like a friend’, ‘i think the world of you’ love.
Then one Friday evening in July 2009, we argued about some trival issue and went to sleep without the subject being resolved. The next morning my thoughts were to discuss ‘us’ at the next opportunity. I had had enough of arguing and feeling like I was being dominated or going crazy. So, we were lying in bed and he said “this isn’t working is it?” I said “No”. What shall we do? We decided that we may as well split up. We went out for brunch and talked about how we feel about it all. There was lots of crying and hugging. I got the train home later that evening, with more tears. I knew deep down that it was the best thing to do. We were more like good friends than lovers. We had basically been ‘fuck-buddies’ for the last eight months.
