I Saw My Ex At ‘Our Place’

How I Met Your Mother
How I Met Your Mother

I was sitting at the bar in the restaurant that we used to call “our place” when you walked in with your hand around her waist. Surprisingly, my heart did not burst.

Up until this moment, I had been told to act like you were dead. But in that instance, you were very much alive, happy and content without a single thought of me.

I felt my skin heat up and my throat tightened. You were seated in a booth that we had shared countless times prior. All of the memories I had tried to suppress began to flood my brain. Is this really happening?

The restaurant was crowded, with the sounds of laughter and story telling filling my air. Yet, I could only hear your laugh over all of theirs. I could feel my eyes wandering to your table, fixated on the two of you, with your smile locked in on someone like you once did with me.

I sipped on my beer like I had done this a thousand times, even though this was my first legal purchase. I tried to comprehend this situation but it didn’t seem plausible.

There you are. Here I am. And yet, we are strangers.

This was someone I had shared my life with—my secrets, my dreams, my insecurities. This was someone who would wipe away the tears from my eyes when I was upset. This was someone who had been the absolute love of my life.

And I had to watch him, watch someone else. I had to see him look into her eyes. Laugh at her jokes. Touch her skin. I had to look at someone I loved, love someone else. And that alone, is enough to break anyone.

Your eyes did not wander in my direction. You did not acknowledge my existence. You were someone that used to light up when they saw me, touch me any chance they got, and you didn’t even look my way.

As I sat there with hurt in my chest, it became very clear just how much time apart had changed the both of us. What we had was good in the time being, but it wasn’t a forever kind of love. We were no longer the same two people that loved one another. Instead, we were just two people who once shared a small portion of our lives together and our lives no longer coexisted.

There you are with her. Here I am with me. And that is okay. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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