Exactly at 9pm I walked into his friend’s newly opened bar. The neighbourhood was grungy but the bar was impressive, spacious, light wood, retractable ceilings. The group hadn’t arrived yet. Of course he was late to his own goodbye party.
I stood nervously at the bar, looking for empty seats. Orderly, I found two next to each other. I sat down, hugged my small bag, wondering how I could make myself seem more approachable and less serious. I got up, took off my jacket and hung it on the hook beneath the bar, shook my hair out, before flipping it over to one side. I sat back down on the stool and hobbled myself forward. Resting my elbows and bag on the bar, I took space and got the bartender’s attention. Thoughts trickled in, should I tell the bartender I’m a friend of a friend of the owner, should I reposition myself to face the entrance, was my top cute enough for tonight. Oh text him: “I’m here, no rush.” More thoughts, do I look hot. Smiling at the bartender, “hi, could I get a glass of Prosecco, please”. Awkward just sitting and waiting, should I try to have a conversation with the bartender. Definitely don’t check your phone, no one else at the bar will come up to you if you check your phone.
An hour later, I see him walk in towards the back of the bar. Dark, his black D&G puffer jacket on, left hand pulling through his hair, and a silly bounce in his step. He walked to me, said something irrelevant about the bar and his friend the owner, and sorry we’re late. I returned a warm hug and bubbly, “Hi! No worries, how are you?” After that it’s blank, I don’t remember much of the small talk we had with each other. We kept it very mature though. Not that I’m surprised. I appreciate that we did. My heart was beating on overdrive most of the night. I smiled a lot that night.
Later, when I got into bed, alone, every part of my chest hurt. Profusely. I wished and wished and wished I could have left with him. I was also upset that his friends felt left out of our connection. I was upset that another friend made a comment about our relationship as if we were playing a game. I completely, unashamedly adored him. I don’t know what it is about humans, that after 9 months I can still feel the same familiar pangs of need for him.
There was a heavy spark between us all night, but I somehow found the power to leave early, at midnight. And I made a decision that I wouldn’t be with him. Reminding myself of the things I needed but he wouldn’t/couldn’t give. Reminding myself that, we did not have the relationship that I wanted. Reminding myself that, he was not willing or able to give me all the connections I wanted and needed.
I’ll tell you though, I adore him. I can’t fathom how it is possible to remember that you love someone this much after not seeing them at all. Nothing for 9 months.
It just destroys me to know how much we loved one another. I could cry all night about it.
I needed something to remind me that he was not for me. I read and reread this but it wasn’t enough.