The Ex and I.

My ex told me that I made him want to be a better person. He also told me he loved me. I’ve been to weddings where the groom makes the exact same statements to the bride during the vow exchange. I thought our chemistry and the love we had was enough. If it were we wouldn’t be exes.

I don’t consume a lot of romance for entertainment, but the time I spent binge watching Sex in the City seems to have melted my brain. I thought he was my Mr Big. After years of feeling like we were together even when we weren’t dating, I was hoping he’d see the light and come after me. I honestly believed that whatever happened we would end up together. Even if the ‘whatever’ was a long-term girlfriend. Or breaking up with me over email, twice. Rebounding into girls who I thought were friends, lying to me about being in a relationship and regularly forgetting my birthday are also on the list of reasons why I should have walked away much sooner.

I thought I could settle for being friends, for some reason it’d be better than losing him altogether.

The friendship was really tested while I was visiting my dying mother. He was working through a break up from a relationship I never thought would work. At first I thought my opinion was a result of jealousy. As time went on it made less and less sense of why he was still trying to make it work. She didn’t like sex. Or crazy adventures. She wanted a refined lifestyle. All these things that conflicted with the person I knew him to be. The preoccupation with getting the princess back took up so much space in his mind. Even when he tried to be there with me during my mother’s death he was always distracted.

I was tired of only getting the leftovers. Tired of waiting for the moment he realised that I was the love of his life. Tired of believing all the crap I kept telling myself. Because no matter what I believed reality was different. He kept choosing someone else. I was never the one. I worked hard at hanging on to what I thought we had. Life isn’t a romantic comedy, at least not for some people. It takes all sorts of stories to make up Hollywood. And maybe mine’s more of a fucked up indie movie, with what I’m hoping is a surprise happy ending.