It’s been a year since we stood on London Bridge as the sun set over one of the nicest days we ever had together and I realised stood there that it was the end, maybe not that exact moment, but I realised I had to walk away from it all because no matter how wonderful being with him felt, not being able to talk about him to people, not being able to go places or do the normal things couples do, because we weren’t actually a couple.
I loved him, I loved falling asleep after hours of red wine and pointless talking. We escaped from reality, a reality we both wanted to escape from.
Missed him for a while, I missed him when I thought I needed him, when I thought only his words would make a stressful day better. I missed him until I realised that just as I had fallen in love with him, I could also get over him.
Except here’s the thing, there’s no such thing as ‘getting over’ some one you loved, it’s more a case of allowing the love you have for them to ebb away slowly.
I shared the picture I took as we stood on the bridge, I wrote a caption with it, and despite the fact that love evades me I stand by the words;
Love in truth doesn’t need any adjectives. It doesn’t require modifiers. It doesn’t require the condition of perfection.
It only asks you to show up & do your best. That you stay present and feel fully, that you shine and fly and laugh and cry and hurt and heal and fall and get back up and play and work and live as YOU.
It’s enough. It’s plenty.
For us, it didn’t end easily, it didn’t end quickly.
Instead of ending it between us the morning after that night on the bridge, it dragged on for another 4 months, it ended one year ago today. In the wake of seeing cheap ambient reverb Adele in Manchester with my girls. There’s a song she sings, about the end, about how it matters, about how you both deserve more when the end approaches.
I loved that song, in the kind of way you can love a song that makes you cry even when you’re on public transport and detest crying. So of all the millions of pieces of paper that fluttered from the sky in the MEN that night, it had to be this one that I caught, that landed in my hands. It was the reason I ended it, because I realised that although I needed to say the words, it was already over.
It matters how this ends…
That’s what I wanted, a real end, a door closing, not an angry exchange over texts, not hateful thoughts.
I deserved a better end, we both did. More than the love we felt we had a friendship and when we shouted and the us we were ended, so did that friendship and I mourned that more than the love I think.
But it’s been a year, a year of unloving you and I feel ok now, I feel like I could see you and not feel sad for what we lost but happy it happened.
So here’s to the whiskey, the lobster and the sea side, here’s to dancing like idiots in a gay bar, here’s to sitting on the steps of Covent Gardens at 4am, to the singing in the car, the laughing til we cried and every single moment that made the 17 months we were in each others lives the best 17 months.
If you’re reading this and feel as though your heart will never mend, that you’ll never start to feel happy again, you will. I promise. Let a year pass and you’ll be where I am now, happy it happened rather than sad it ended.