I’m still enjoying this newfound sense of freedom. He was never restrictive, and was always kind and supportive of things that I wanted to do. Some things he wasn’t so happy about – tattoos, new piercings. You can take that two ways – maybe once he loved me for how I was, maybe he’s not a fan of body modifications. On my more melodramatic days I’ll say he never loved me and just didn’t like tattoos. On my more realistic days, I can recognise he used to quite like me as I am.
So last week I was out with a friend who was visiting for the day. She has a tattoo, and agreed to accompany me to the tattoo shop so I could maybe get an impulsive one. (Spoiler alert: they couldn’t do anything on the day, so I just had a little chat with someone there about my anxieties.) This wouldn’t be 100% spontaneous – I have put some thought into it, I just haven’t jumped in just yet.
Before we get to the shop, and in loosely thinking of him, I came across his mother and sister. I’ve managed to avoid them for nearly three months, so it was of course very strange to happen upon them. We did the polite thing where our voices rose several octaves whilst talking about nothing in particular. How are you? Oh wow, that’s nice. Glad to hear that! Must get going, see you soon.
I’m incapable of not saying ‘see you soon’ or ‘see you later’, it’s like a ridiculous little compulsion even though it means nothing.
I did say something very awkward. In a way to try and say goodbye, I said ‘well, I’m seeing him on Tuesday, so I’ll ask about you then.’ That means nothing, and is also very silly if I did mean exactly what I said.
To the next point – I was meant to see him today (the aforementioned Tuesday). I haven’t, but only because I’m developing a cold and would much rather be in my house. But every time I tell people I’m seeing him for a casual dinner, I’m met with raised eyebrows and ‘why?’
I miss him less. I miss lying my head on his chest, and I miss holding his hand. I miss kissing, and I miss intimacy. But if I’d thought on this a few weeks ago, I would have missed things more specific about him. The inside jokes. The way he’d play me the newest songs he’d written. My sadness (dwindling by the day) is less about him in particular, and more about the physicality of having a partner.
But we have history. We shared five years worth of experiences and conversations, and I care about how he is. I care is his mental health is (hopefully) getting better. I care about whether he’s going to finish his degree. I care about his new job and if it’s going well. When we meet up, I’m trying to focus on our futures as separate individuals with different paths, and less on what we had, or indeed could have had. I don’t think that’s weird, but I do struggle when other people suggest it is.
In other news, some (LGBT) work friends who say I should tap into the bisexuality might take me to the local gay bar, so we’ll see how that goes.