It’s been two years.

Two years ago yesterday; the 5th of February, I left the other side of the world and came home. I left Big Love. Maybe I need to think of a new name for him.

Guess what happened yesterday? While I was talking to the Bestie on THAT side of the world, she bumped into him in Subway. She has only seen him a handful of times in two years and on the second anniversary of me leaving, as we are chatting, she bumps into him. What are the chances of that? We don’t even talk that much anymore…

She sent me a photo she had discreetly taken of him as they were both waiting for their food. He was wearing exactly the same outfit he was wearing the night I left. He was wearing the dark blue jeans that I bought him. He was wearing the hoodie he got while we were in the War Zone. I still have the t-shirts to go with that hoodie. They are currently in my “I don’t know what to do with these” pile as I am in the process of moving house.

The only difference between that night and this night? This night I don’t care. I was more annoyed that she had sent me that photo than the photo itself. No longer did I think he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I noticed something too. He has a really flat face. He had a cleft lip/palette and I always adored that about him. From the side-on angle though, he looked a fucking mess.

He had nasty shoes on. He would never have worn nasty shoes if we were still together. There was no sense of style; nothing about him that sparkled in any way. He has lost his sparkle. Or has he just lost his sparkle… in my eyes?

I realized something. I don’t think I love him anymore. As much as every now and again, he still appears in my dreams, it’s not him. It’s not him now that I want; it’s him then. And I’ll never, ever get that guy back. He ruined any appeal that he once held in my opinion.

I didn’t cry yesterday. I didn’t get upset. I didn’t feel the overwhelming urge to blog about it. I miss him. I miss him everyday. I miss that side of the world too; a lot more than I ever let on. I made the right choice though. That light at the end of the tunnel that I had been searching for, for so long has finally come in the form of my slightest tubby, very grey, man panther.

Things took a long time to turn out right for me but finally, I think they might just be doing in my direction. I’m certainly a lot happier now than I ever have been. I’m so skinny now too. I’m no longer the size 16-18 chunk. I’m a size 10-12 hot chick with defined shoulders and a cracking set of legs. Speaking of which, I have blood tests tomorrow to make sure there’s nothing wrong with me. It would appear that I’ve lost weight at such a fast speed that people are genuinely concerned. Hopefully the blood tests will shut them up and get them off my back.

So that’s it. The second anniversary. I survived. And I’m happy. I just hope that Big Love is too.

 

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