A year ago this week, my ex went away for his summer of work in the US.
I remember the morning he left for the airport. I stayed in his bed for a while, smelling him on the pillows and bed sheets. Then got my stuff together and went back to mine. Completely oblivious to the fact this was the beginning of the end. Completely secure. Completely in love.
I remember the night before he left. We went for dinner with his friends and then said our goodbyes fairly early and went back to his because he, “wanted quality time with my beautiful girlfriend.”
I remember the night before that I took him out on a date in East London. We went to the cocktail bar where we had our first date and drank over £100 worth of deliciousness. We had late night burgers, and got a taxi home. He spent the whole journey trying to convince the taxi driver that Alex Ferguson was my uncle.
I remember I had just been offered my new job. I felt excited, but nervous. And I told myself that I had three months’ notice to work in my old job, and by the time that was done my ex would be back from the US and we’d be living together – so I had all the support I needed and so much to look forward to.
But I also remember something he said that night when we were drinking our overpriced cocktails. Something about how when I’d told him about my tumultuous relationship with the ex before him he wanted to look after me. And that got in the way of romantic feelings. It was out of the blue at the time and we were both quite drunk. I questioned him on it and he said, “Babe. I totally fancy you. I totally love you.”
I remember believing him.
Pizza of Doom 
Memories . . .
As with condoms,
They are a blessing as well as curse.
Hang in there.
You can do this.
Ha! I like the comparison.
Our brains are torturous devices. They way they can hold information and recall it for you whether you want it to or not. Sometimes I think my patients with dementia don’t have it so bad after all.
Bastard.