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Tuesday, 20 December 2016

Last night

Last night I met up with my ex.


I hate calling him my ex. He's my best friend. He's so much more than just a person who was my boyfriend for three and a half years. Well, I don't know if I can count it as three and a half years. It was 8 months as acquaintances, 5 months of Facebook flirting, 11 months as part-time boyfriend, full-time best friend (lots of on/off and to-ing and fro-ing!), and then a wonderful two years and three months as a proper couple. It was amazing. He's been in my life since July 2012 when we were sixteen and he's been pretty much the best part of it. We've grown together from kids fresh out of GCSEs, through all of sixth form and A levels and first holidays and first loves, to university, and being real adults and long distance relationships and making it work and making laughs and loving each other all the while.


He's incredible and I can't quite believe he's not mine anymore. We'd slowly been falling out of love for a while and it came to a point this summer where we sat down and talked about it and decided to give it one last push. If we couldn't revive things - so to speak - then maybe it was best to not be together anymore. We really cared about each other and there's still a lot of love there but maybe it's not the right kind of love anymore. He came up from his uni to my uni one Friday night at the beginning of October to us to "talk" again. We both knew he'd come up so we could break up.


I suppose it was as mutual and calm as it can be when two people still love each other a lot and are crying on a bed because they know they can't make it work anymore. We helped each other work out how to change our relationship status on Facebook from "in a relationship" to "no relationship information to show" and then snuggled down to cuddle and cry overnight. The following afternoon, he left. We kissed goodbye and that was that.


He left me a bag of my favourite snacks and a letter in my bedroom, tucked behind an armchair, as a kind of apology. I read the letter once that evening and put it away where I haven't touched it since. I cried maybe one tear after that and got on with life. There was so much to be done because stuff never stops and I'm a person who likes to get shit done. Five days after the break up, I got with my housemate who I'd always got on really well with, and who was there for me throughout September when I needed someone to talk things over with about my relationship. Maybe I moved on too soon, but mine and my now-ex's relationship hadn't really had the right kind of love for months. We were best friends and got on really well and loved being in each other's company, but sometimes that isn't enough. My housemate and I moved really quickly and it didn't feel like a rebound because something had always been there deep down and it just felt right.


We didn't talk again until the middle of November when he messaged me to see when I'd be home for Christmas and if I wanted to meet up for a drink. We spoke for about 45 minutes on Facebook messenger, and it wasn't until about half an hour in when something in me cracked. I cried tears that wouldn't stop, that poured down my cheeks and left me gasping. I missed him. So much. I cried again the next night in bed but after that I was fine. I enjoyed the start of my new thing with my housemate, loved his company, had the best time.


I got back home for Christmas on Saturday and my ex messaged me to see if I was around on Tuesday night to meet up. I felt excited to see him. To see my best friend. Going from talking to someone every day, to not talking for over a month is difficult. Really fucking hard. So I was really looking forward to seeing him. He called me as I was walking there because he'd arrived early and wanted to know what to get me at the bar. I walked into the pub with tears in my eyes because I already knew at that point that he still holds a massive part of my heart. I spent the night fighting back tears as we caught up on each other's lives and as I told him I was seeing someone new and as he told me he was also involved with another girl. I smiled and said I was happy for him but my heart was breaking. He said it's very casual with them and that he hasn't fallen for her and doesn't know if he will, and I felt pleased. And I hated myself for it. Because I'm with my housemate and it might be a new kind of love forming, but it's nowhere close to what I felt for him. My ex.


If he and I didn't have the right kind of love anymore then why did I cry myself to sleep last night, cry so hard that my whole face swelled up? Why have I been fighting back tears literally the whole day at work today, on my run tonight, and have them cascading down my face as I write this? I know the answer. I have a literal aching in my chest and I didn't know it was possible to feel like this. I thought I was fine but seeing him has brought it all back. If this is heartbreak then it fucking sucks. It also sucks that it took over two months to kick in. I don't want this to be the end of us but I think we need time to grow some more separately before we can come together again. I hope we come together again. I hope it with all my heart because I need my best friend back. I love him.


I know this is really disjointed and I've bashed it out in literally 20 minutes with swollen eyes and a river coming down my cheeks. I feel awful. This is so shit.