He was my boyfriend for 4 and ½ months and for 4 and ½ whole months we loved each other unconditionally and wholeheartedly even through society and circumstance made it painfully difficult to love one another the way we both yearned and desired. A relationship obstructed with hazards and emotional indifference along the beaten concentrate road, but the love we both shared was never an issue as my lips kissed his for the thousandth time. It wasn’t the 10 year age gap that was an issue as our hearts lovingly intertwined, and even in the frigid conditions our lips still managed to meet halfway.
I was so enduringly comfortable with him as we spoke until the early hours while I lay cradled in his arms, I just wished those intimate and private moments were far more frequent as we bitterly checked out of another cheap hotel room, scuffling to put on our masks to shield from the gulps of wandering eyes etched in the paranoia of his unfortunate mind. Boyfriends behind closed doors but now mere acquaintances as we blend into society on another disillusioned date night.
His social phobia and anxiety was tingling as we brushed shoulders with idle strangers, holding hands along the flicking lights of London South bank exchanging tantalizing tales of ghosts and society. He pushed my buttons and took me to the edge of insanity, as we sipped on Lattes in the benumbed November cold.
Sometimes you have to move on without certain people, if they’re meant to be in your life, they’ll catch up, maybe. He has his own journey to take and in the end he has to learn to love himself first before he can truly love another.
Our paths may cross again, who knows, only one thing is certain, I wish for him to be unconditionally happy, even if that happiness is not with me.
We both fought and clawed for the shredded pieces of a flawed romance but in the end love was not enough to save two hearts not meant to be together today, and maybe not even tomorrow. We didn’t want to resentment one another because we couldn’t hold each other in our longing arms, so in the end we had to let go, not because we wanted to but because it was the only thing we could do. He was the right person but I met him at the wrong time as we both reluctantly wished each other well in our futures without one another.
“I’ll be here if you ever need to talk.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I can’t drop you out of my life.”
“It’s been great, the good times we got to have.”
“I’ve learned a lot, thank you.”
“The upset I’m gonna be feeling is well worth the time I got with you.”
“I just wanted you to know that I value you as much as you value me.”
It’s not the breakup that breaks my heart the most but his little quirks and traits that I will miss the most. I will miss his stubbornness and his opinions on feminism and society; he was always so intellectually stimulating even if I was the only one to tell him so. I will miss his grammar correcting and the way he labelled me pompous as he tried to wrestle me to the ground. I will miss the way we could literately kiss for hours as my hands brushed through the strains of hair on his hairy chest.
He may have not been a hopeless romantic but he taught me there is more to love then couple selfies and flowers, he had qualities that I never could have imagined and in the end his awkwardness and bad habits became the part of him I loved and cherished the most.
If only I knew that when I took that photo of us together on a windswept Brighton beach that it would be the last time I feel the firm grip of his hand holding me tightly as the waves of the ocean spread across the pebbled shore.
If I had known that beneath the sound of seagulls squawking while gliding in the blustering wind that the touch of his hand would be my last, I would have held his hand longer and tighter in the cusp of my shivering hand and make that moment last a lifetime.
If only I knew.