Do I want to date again?

I met up with him today. It was a source of anxiety, but at the practical level I needed to get my house keys back. On the emotional level I think I needed to see him to remind myself that we don’t hate each other, we’re still the same people and that maybe we could be friends.

But do I want to be friends? It’s been 8 days (8 days!) since the break up, and I have come to realise that no matter how sad or tearful I sometimes am, it’s not because I want him back. I wrote previously about the reasons that actually I have a sense of freedom and a burgeoning sense of excitement about one day finding somebody new.

Do I want to be friends? Do I miss him as a boyfriend or as a person? Do I just miss that sense of having somebody that was just mine and that knew everything about me?

I think that the very fact of having questions is the useful part of blogging. It’s really handy to write it out in slightly flowery language and try and figure out what I’m feeling.

So we saw each other. We had lunch. We chatted a bit about future plans for ourselves. He’s deferring his degree to focus on mental health, which is a massive and positive decision on his part. I’m waiting to see what is happening with my application to study a Master’s. He’s going to some events for his hobbies. I’m seeing friends on various places and hoping to make the most of this ridiculous British heatwave.

We split the bill in the restaurant. An echo of our first ever date. For the last five years, one or other of us has always paid the bill in full and swapped off for the next time. We got bubble tea which tasted horrible. Space Oddity was playing in the background and I sang along. He said the song would always remind him of me.

We said goodbye. We hugged and then both slightly ducked in for a kiss. We didn’t kiss, but there was a beat of tension when we realised what we had automatically begun to do. I made a joke about it. He laughed.

I pretended to laugh. I walked away and cried in my car.

I’m not a frequent crier, and I’ve forgotten how sometimes it feels like a release. I left the encounter feeling positive and lighter. I never once thought about wanting him back, or wondering if he cared or loved me. These were the things which I’d worried about, so it was nice to realise that although I was sad at the ending, I wasn’t sad that it had ended.

So this brings me to my question. Do I want to date again? As in, date again soon and now?

In seeing him, in a strange way it made me feel loved again. When I was a teenager, I never believed I would be loved, and just after he dumped me, I believed that he had never loved me. Seeing him showed me that although he broke up with me for our differences, there was a lot that he still liked about me.

To date again now would feel like searching for proof that I can be loved. It would feel like I was looking for validation, and there’s a part of me that would like to sign up to a dating website just to chat to strangers and feel that buzz of talking to new people. That might be all the validation I need at the moment.

I’m less sad today

I woke up at 11am to my mother poking me and telling me she was going out shopping. I picked up my phone and I looked at rubbish and thought about my new reality as a single person, and just how strange and new that feels. I thought about the new freedom I have and how heady and terrifying that is. Then I had a wee and ate two apples (but not at the same time).

I’m not quite so sad today. I’ve watched my second Adam Sandler movie in two days and realised that his movies make me think about my dead father, which is a nice thing because it’s lovely to have little reminders of my dad every so often. Thinking of a parent’s death also puts a relationship break down into context, because neither of us have died and that’s pretty nice. I don’t even feel like someone has died today, so that’s also pretty nice.

Not quite so nice that my best friend has decided to leave me, but I think that’s okay.

Last night I downloaded Tinder and Match promptly freaked out. Over the last five years, I’m aware that the dating game has changed. I know that I’ve changed too, but it’s very different when you have the smiling pictures in dating profiles looking up at you at 1am.

I mentioned the headiness. It’s exhilarating to think of kissing somebody new, a faceless amorphous somebody who will hopefully not mind my chubbiness or my lack of willing to wax every piece of body hair I have.

He didn’t mind that, and it makes me sad (again) that he’s gone.

But, he was shorter than me, which is easy enough when you’re 5’9. And he didn’t earn much money, which worried a small and secret part of my mind that only comes out at night. He was white, and I am brown, which sometimes concerned me that he would never quite understand some parts of my history.

He was also kind to me, and he was talented. He showed me the delights of live music, and he introduced me to some friends who I hope I’ll be able to keep.

I deleted the dating apps. I’m not ready for somebody new, and I do want to grasp the freedom I have. I might well download them again in the future, but for now, I’ll try and enjoy the boundless possibilities in front of me.