The Last GoodbyePosted: August 8, 2011
The next big challenge was to move my several tonnes of belongings from the house to the new apartment.
It’s really remarkable how much stuff you can accumulate without even realising – and on top of this ‘stuff’ I also had to transport a couch, a bookcase and a desk.
I think this was the moment I felt most alone since the break-up.
I have no family and so without Him as my trusty other half, I was faced with an overwhelmingly daunting task of moving all this stuff by myself and without any transport.
And suddenly I realised that while I’ve been incredibly unfortunate in the Family area of life, I have managed to stock up some wonderfully kind and generous friends.
That fateful morning I finally escaped what I was now coming to see as my own personal House of Horrors, I had two trusty male friends to provide a van and willing hands to help me move My Life.
I sat in my new room that night surrounded by all my worldly possessions and felt more hopeful and lighter than I had in a very long time.
I wasn’t free yet though.
I had to see Him one last time as we signed off on our lease with The Evil Landlords.
After the ordeal of cleaning up the house – that The Evil Housemate was conveniently absent for – and after giving a metaphorical two fingered salute to The Evil Landlords by refusing to give them even more money (on top of confiscated deposit) to pay to fix something ridiculous, I brought Him back to my new apartment for a final chat.
We spent hours talking about our relationship, trying to pinpoint what exactly had gone wrong, reminiscing about The Good Old Days and wondering about the future.
I did my best to make him see the importance of spending our separation evaluating what he wanted and what I wanted and who we were, so that when we meet up in six months time, we’d know for definite whether it’s a Yay or Nay for Us.
We broke our No Physical Contact rule as we said goodbye.
I had known we’d have a final kiss that day and I wanted so badly for it to be beautifully memorable.
A final kiss worthy of the end of our relationship.
However as we huddled under a useless umbrella as the rain poured down our backs, I found myself more preoccupied by the fact I looked disgusting as my fringe was pushed off my forehead and tucked into the hood of my rugby hoodie and my face was flushed and sweaty from the humidity.
This was going to be the last memory he had of me for the next six months.
This is what his brain would throw up as he meets yet another pretty, fabulous blonde and begins the inevitable Ex comparison.
I also realised how hard it is to give a kiss your all while standing on a packed street, trying to keep an umbrella steady with one hand.
And so it was an inevitable disaster.
A calamity, if you will.
But it was a very typical thing to happen to Us, so in a way, it was oddly comforting.