There is one thing that calms me slightly about this whole horrible break up.
It's this: the feeling that maybe deep down, in fact there is no maybe: deep down, I knew we weren't going to be forever. Could I imagine him being with only me for the rest of his life? Not really. Were there things that worried me? Silly things, like would he be predestined to do as his dad had done; leave his wife and family for another woman one day? Yes, these things happen. But when his actions and words continually disproved this feeling I had deep down, there was never any reason for me to give those thoughts the time of day.
Perhaps I knew that a break-up would come, eventually. I knew it would hurt. But I never expected it to happen three weeks after we'd moved in together. I never thought it would be this sudden, or be so inexplicable and so at odds with everything he'd said and done throughout our whole time together. If I'm truthful, I thought it would happen when I was 30. Then there was the strange fleeting realisation just before we moved in together, a quick calculation in my head of "our lease will come up for renewal in December." Meaning, oh god - what if we broke up at Christmas?
The surprising thing is the relief. Good luck to the next girl. Good luck to his eventual wife.Thank god we have no social ties, no mutual friends, no Facebook trail to hide, delete or block. Thank god we rented in a desireable area of London, and had a flat that was snapped up within days. Relief that once again, the only thing I can feel is hurt, sadness and anger - but definitely not regret.
I'll leave that one for him.
10 comments:
I seem to have a knack for stating the obvious (especially on this page) but better three weeks than three years. Or thirty.
Stupid arse (him not you).
You're pretty lucky to get out so quickly. Bruises will heal, men will come, sun will shine, all that. No FB trail, luckier still. Thank god for no common friends!
I think you had a lucky escape with it happening so soon after signing the lease on the flat. It could have been so much worse had you both really made it into a home.
I have to agree, three weeks is better than three years. The more you invest in a relationship, the more of yourself you could lose in the end. I learned that the hard way.
The fact you're able to see the positives, such as they are, is pretty bloody impressive.
Hope it's getting easier. x
Unbearable - At first that seemed like the worst thing about the whole mess, but now it's definitely a positive. How perception changes, eh?
London lass - Couldn't agree more.
Nimpipi - Not adding eachother on Facebook was the best thing I ever did. I don't have to worry about seeing him and someone else. Phew.
Perp - Although I didn't see it that way at first, now I'm definitely coming round to that way of thinking.
Jersey - That is true. It feels like we were together for years and had lived together for ages, but in fact we really hadn't.
Blonde - It is getting easier, by the day. But then I haven't been living at the flat, haven't seen him and haven't heard from him. I just have to hope I don't bump into him on the street.
Is it bad that I'd happily marry the person who wrote that sign?
(Based on you, Blonde and the other London girls I know, this is where all the decent people are. Would you recommend moving there for a less tempestuous love life? :/ )
It's kind of bad, given that the person who wrote that sign carries around a large marker pen specifically for writing angst ridden messages on toilet walls.
But yes, London is where the good people are. (allegedly)
That doesn't make sense. I live in Lancaster :)
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