Wednesday, January 20, 2016

I'll Do My Crying on Spotify

Okay - day four since I broke up with The Climber and anxiety is setting in. It was quite good fun for the first few days. I was longing for some 'me' time, I felt full of righteous self-justification and I was filling my thoughts with memories of all the rotten things he'd said and his bad habits. By this morning that was wearing off and now I'm starting to miss the cuddles and the conversation, the sex and the fun. And I'm worrying about him - is he okay with the breakup? Is he already touring the dating websites? Is he going to try and win me back with flowers and a big speech? The answers to those questions are probably, in order - no, yes and definitely no.

The thing is, I'm wondering if I overdid it, ending the relationship. Is that a common worry afterwards? I suspect it is. We've been walking out on each other and storming back to our own houses almost from the start of our relationship - maybe that was a sign that we were never going to last. And yet, the arguments were over tiny things. I really thought that we would iron them out eventually and all would be calm and serene. It all comes down to talking - well, communication in general, I suppose. I didn't think there was enough of it going on, he didn't like being prodded to respond. Typical male/female stuff. In fact, I never bought into that whole Mars/Venus stuff until I got together with The Climber. And then, at the grand old age of 55, I found myself buying Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus - and reading it from cover to cover more than once. Even managed to get him to look at it, though I'm not sure it did any more than give him ammunition in the sex war...

So now, the mellow playlist is playing on Spotify again, and I'm crying in disbelief that we'll never lie together again and listen to the songs, never sit together again and sing them with the guitar, and wondering if I did the wrong thing telling him that I was tired of the arguments, that we'd reached the end of the road. If I hadn't broken up with him, we'd be lying together now...it's a hell of a thought...

When The Golfer died, I thought - no, I was certain - that I would never love again, never be loved again. I'd never be touched, desired again, never have sex again, never have that one person who is with you against the world. Well, amazingly, wondrously, miraculously, I found a man in his fifties who not only fancied me but who could still do something about it and I've let him go...

Ah well, back to the sad songs, I think. I will be fine, fellow rosehippers. Life is certainly an adventure...

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