Skinny jeans

10 Sep

I love East London. I’ve lived here for years, and witnessed various areas gain more coffee shops – and more people in very skinny jeans – as scruffy neighbourhoods ‘up and come’.

My ex also lives in East London.

When we started dating we spent all our time hanging out here in various bars and restaurants. Which means my bus ride to work goes something like this:

– Past the place where we met for date number 4, when he bought me dinner to celebrate my pitch win, then walked me home although I wouldn’t let him come into my flat.

– Past the bar where we drank wine on date number 3. And the bus stop where we kissed afterwards, grinning at each other like maniacs.

– Past the Vietnamese restaurant where I made him laugh so much, despite his hangover, on date number 2. And the bar where we sat afterwards while he counted the freckles on my forearm.

– And finally – worst of all – past the spot where we first met. And the cocktail bar where we sat and talked all night on date number 1. And the street where we first kissed, outside the music shop, looking at a Stik painting on the wall.

That is my journey to work. Every. Day.

What happened on date number 5? He invited himself over to my flat, sat on this very sofa and asked me to be his girlfriend.

The same sofa where he sat five weeks ago, ate the pizza of doom, and broke my heart.

Well, I love this sofa. I love the colour. I love how comfy it is. I love that it matches my flamingo cushions. And I’m not changing it just to get rid of his memory.

I also still love East London. And, as it happens, my skinny jeans fit a lot better these days.

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2 Responses to “Skinny jeans”

  1. jadedwildcat September 10, 2013 at 8:33 pm #

    So beautifully written, albeit filled with a sadness and nostalgia that I can actually feel just from reading it off the screen. Again though, I need to applaud you for carrying on, for being able to acknowledge these things, endure that bus ride of painful memories every single day and still find yourself in one piece at the end, not breaking down or trying to beg him to come back or anything.
    Your strength really does amaze me. I wish I could learn just to see and acknowledge all the painful reminders and still carry on, instead of letting them break me down.
    Here’s to you surviving another day. xoxo

    • aprileb September 11, 2013 at 7:15 am #

      Thank you. I do not feel strong at all, but hopefully I’m getting there. I’m writing this on the bus – ha! It really is like someone thought up a way to torture me with a moving theatre that replays our happy times. Hope you’re doing OK x

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