Missing him

22 Aug

Last night I had fun. Maybe for the first time since the pizza of doom. We had a reunion of buddies and colleagues who hadn’t been in the same place at the same time for years. And everyone’s life is moving on so perfectly. People are getting married, people are buying houses together, people are making new people. Weird thing is, I thought I’d feel bitter and twisted. But I felt genuinely happy for them all.

In the past when I’ve broken up with people I haven’t really missed them. I’ve been overwhelmed with anxiety that I’ll never get married, never have kids, never get the perfect house in the country complete with cats, dogs and – per chance – a pony. (Yes, I’m that traditional.) This time, these things haven’t even crossed my mind. In fact, if my ex was to say he never wanted any of these things – not even a goldfish – I’d still want to be with him. Because it’s him.

So I’m not panicking about never meeting someone else because I don’t think I’ll ever be attracted to anyone else. The thought of kissing someone else makes me feel physically sick, let alone marrying someone else.

I miss him.

I miss him so much that it wakes me up at night. It blindsides me when I’m walking around the supermarket trying to take an interest in food. It sneaks up on me when I’m busy, well, trying to keep busy. And sometimes it reduces me to the nervous wreck I was sitting in City Airport twitching and crying the day after it happened.

It’s hard. But the good news is I can feel genuinely happy for my friends. This is particularly helpful as I have two weddings coming up in the next three weeks.

Also, when your friends are awesome enough to send you beautiful flowers that make you feel loved on a miserable day, you can’t really help but be happy for all the nice things that happen to those friends in life, can you? Thank you, Jennie. X

P.S. My ex never bought me flowers. Just saying.

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