Sunday brunch was lovely. Came home, took a long bath and fell asleep. This morning I woke up calm. A bit tired and still smiling.
As I read my mails, I saw a comment. Someone asked me why don’t I write about moments with my ex S? Here’s the thing, there were no moments to remember. Or maybe, the fact that he found himself a lookalike of the girl he was in love with before he met me, and then left his marriage to be with the lookalike, made all the moments invalid. I walked away and didn’t go back, I can’t fix my ex S, then why bother trying? The fact is – I am not going back to what broke me. Neither S, nor J.
I was losing my mind over two men who didn’t mind losing me, and was settling for someone who didn’t appreciate me. Neither one of them Stéphane nor Joël, added anything to my life but pain and heartbreak, and self-questioning. Hence neither one of them belong to my life, therefore this effort to not lose my mind, heart and time over similar men, ever again, and thus this effort to forget by writing it all down.
So yes, moments are remembered when they are honest and real. The moments I remember with S were violent and unkind. Hence, there is no point remembering them. It was so dire that his messages weren’t even my favourite notifications on my phone (isn’t that something when you are actually scared of receiving messages from your husband)? I still have nightmares of S yelling at me, added to it a new nightmare of J glaring at me! Those two relationships were abusive enough for my brain to forge in new formative memory that forever changed how I think and process information.
Hmmm… come to think of it, both S & J made me feel miserable rather-than happy in love. Both made my life stressful and unpleasant – so is it really worth trying to remember moments with them?
Ok, since you asked, here’s one example with S – he bought me a singular blue rose (there was a time Blue Rose was my favourite flower, after the play The Glass Menagerie). This singular dark blue rose (reflective of mystery and imagination) to apologise for yelling at me in public on our anniversary, because I requested him to put his phone away, instead of texting his “friend”. S was known for gaslighting. So this time, I saw right through “oh you are imagining things” excuse. His attitude at the restaurant was so embarrassing that even the owner/chef (an old Italian man – hitherto believed to be a patriarch) was looking at me with pure pity. That was our last anniversary together.
Moments.
.
ANTHROPOLOGY OF LOVE 