How long does a person take to forget? Very fast, it seems, for him.
It took him barely three months to move on to a new love after the end of the three-year relationship. A year passed and he got married.
How is it so easy for some people and incredibly painful for others?
I blame it on social media. An easy search can call up recent activities and pictures of happily ever after for them, but confusion and bitterness for me.
Three years have passed, but he is no longer on the “friends’ list”.
How long does a person take to forget?
Sometimes, never. Yes, I haven’t forgotten, only because he serves as a reminder of everything I will never want in my man.
All of my significant relationships started when fate and cupid came together and decided to nudge me in the direction of men who generously gave me their versions of love and precious pockets of time.
This one though, will forever remain my favourite tale of serendipity and entanglement we can never seem to unwind ourselves from.
I was easing back into singlehood and met a girlfriend whom I normally didn’t meet – and haven’t again since that evening. The original restaurant we picked was full and we ended up at a cafe right across where we sat perpendicular to his table.
We were two strangers who got a good eyeful of one another between mouthfuls of forgettable food and were destined to remain so until my friend leaned over to talk to his friends. Little did I know that mindless, insignificant conversation was to change my life for the next four years and beyond.
Words exchanged led to loose plans for drinks. I ended up using my phone to text him for our separate parties to meet up because my girlfriend had lost her phone sometime in between dinner and social lubricants. A pleasant but unimpressionable time as a group at a bar that no longer exists went on to supper and that night sealed the beginning of a slow, sweet courtship that wasn’t an accurate prelude to a stormy relationship.
But never mind the buckets of tears shed, the dramatic proclamations of i hate you’s and the generic ache couples think is so unique to them.
Because he will always remain the man I travelled some of the world with – oh, looking forward to winters spent in his country like a migratory lovebird, fighting and making up on the arrondisements of Paris, the most perfect week basking in the fiery autumnal colours of Tokyo and geisha-spotting in Kyoto.
He will always remain the man I picked up a new language for to communicate with hypothetical children who I would have loved to have inherit his small eyes and good heart. But instead we made a pidgin language that I can’t resist lapsing into when we still communicate.
He will always remain a man whose scent, from the nape of his neck, I will miss with a painful pang; who could right a wrong day, who would hunt down a specific tea shop in Kyoto to buy back tea leaves that I can’t bear to drink only to repeat the same gesture in his country from a shop that wasn’t there anymore, even after our painful, protracted split.
I realised I loved you when I started to miss your smell so bad. You missed the smell of my perfume on your bed- fair enough.
We decided to end it and you gave me
two of your t-shirts, lingering on them your scent.
I stuffed them into a drawer, perhaps
having that hope we may find each other one day again.
Somehow my mom found one of the shirts, did the laundry and assumed the shirt was my brother’s
He wears it at home and it was just strange. I took out my ex’s other tee and chucked it into the bin.
i guess it was fate. i guess it was meant to be. we were meant to be together and be apart. at the end he “was” supposed to come to me as a life lesson. a lesson that i was meant to learn and not make the same mistake again. one advice to give to you, if you dont see yourself marrying the person, just get your ass outta his/her life before falling in too deep.. *if you know what i mean*
take care! and hope you have found *the one* dont waste each others time!
i will leave you with a quote from anewmode.com