Taking the long awaited sip of wine, on an early summers evening and meeting your gaze over the rim of my glass. Receiving your compliments, my hair, my shoes, my cheeks burning with an unfamiliar blush. Being told by your friend that you were only on a break from your long-term relationship, to not get too attached or involved, and trying to heed his well meant advice, but not being able to, being drawn in, feeling helpless to the pull and grip you already had over me in those early moments.
After the drunken stumble and tearing off of each other’s clothes before we even made my bedroom, waking desperate for you to leave, thinking that I’d never see you again, so you may as well go before I got in too deep.
The surprise and delight when you called asking to meet the following Saturday. Sitting on my patio looking at the garden full of lanterns, candles and food, shit is this too much for a first date? Picking you up, down the side road of your flat, clearly you not wanting to be seen getting into my car, my heart sinking. Your hands on my face, looking up and seeing you looking at me as we are kissing by candle light under the twisted willow.
Falling dangerously deeper.
Being overdressed for a beach date! You slipping your hand into mine as we walked through the country park, you picking me up, legs around your waist as we kiss as the August sun set. Your text to let me know you’d got back together, my heart sinking once more, letting go, and moving on.
Your 1am call weeks later, you’ve made a mistake, you asking what I wanted out of life, did my plan fit in with yours. The waiting, planned meets in Supermarkets and loading your shopping, and matching advent calendars for you both onto the conveyor belt.
Lunch meets ahead of Christmas to give you your gift, knowing we couldn’t be together. Waking Christmas Day, knowing you are there and I am here. New year, wanting to be kissing you as the chimes come in with heart full of hope for a future together, but sipping on a wine miles from home, just to get away from the pain of not being with you.
Musical Saturday’s in January, weekend “weather” predictions and hyperlinks. Leaving. Thoughts of at last being together. Rushing to meet you and be there for you. Feeling your pain, needing and wanting to fix you, being torn with happiness that at last we can begin, but letting you grieve your end.
First Valentines, your pain, my disappointment and impatience. Trips to London, taking someone else’s place, my hope that at last this it, reminders that it’s not. High fiving moments, trips planned to heal your heart and conscience. Late night talks, cups of tea, not wanting to leave you. Not wanting to lose you.
Vampire sleeping, mid sleep scooping me up and spooning in to me, not awake, does he realise what he’s done.
Breaks to clear your head, fishing trips and Pinterest stalking, texts to say you miss me and I need you. Fear of pirates, and vessels being capsized. New homes chosen, trips taken, wanting to come and meet you. Birthday meeting my friends, first pictures taken. Spinning me round on the dance floor. Catching your look.
Guitar playing, love of music, board meetings and agendas, sex on your table, kitchen counter, up against the wall, on the floor, the bath, anywhere, anywhere we could lay our hands on each other.
No resolution, no solution, no title, no Facebook status, nothing but rolling with a year of not knowing.
Toothbrushes sneakily taken out of your holder and hidden under your bathroom sink. Barbecues without invites, meeting your friends unprepared and pixie number two comments. Am I enough. Do I compare. Are you hiding me for a reason. Should I just go. Does he want me to go. You telling me you love me. Wanting and desperately needing to believe you.
Hospital admissions. Needing you by my side. Meeting another of your friends. Is this it. Seeing shooting stars, smoking brisket, tooth brushes back under cabinets. Left jewellery put away. Never meeting your parents, fear there’s someone else. Friends parties, pictures taken and passionate sex, then question marks raised, ruining the dream in a split second, seeing the fear in your face, feeling the familiar feeling of betrayal. Wanting to believe you.
Fresh starts, but never again truly together. Christmas Eve made so special, my insecurities ruining it, gut feeling that you aren’t being true, that you aren’t being honest. Hospital admission. Alone and wanting you. New year resolutions and emails separated by time zones and thousands of miles. Promises for the future. You weren’t being true. She was there. Were you together. Why didn’t you tell me.
Blog posts about clicks, terrified that our click will never be replicated, that we are giving up on something that could be amazing. Back together, back apart.
German gifts, lies and mistrust. Insecurities, on both sides. Me desperately trying to move on with someone else, but not being able to because of our click. Toothbrushes in bins. Back on. Naked dancing to our playlist. Goodbye, please don’t let this be it sex.
Hospital admission, major surgery planned. Birthday meal, no card, you said I’d hold that against you, and I do. Lunches with friends never mentioned. More lies. Back door knocking before surgery, card given, our last night together. Awaking from first operation, you not being there, no text, no call. The pain and disappointment, feeling used. Telling nurses that you’ll probably visit later, that you must be busy. Your late night text, but no visit.
Realisation that every awkward moment has lead us here. That I need to let you go. I need to set myself free. It wasn’t what you said, or anything that you did. It was what you didn’t say, what you didn’t show.
Our awkward moments, the push and pull, like the tide surrounding that vessel. The vessel surrounded by those pirates. New starts.