Stalking (14 Dec 2010)
I just did a thing that surely everyone must do at some point -- I stalked my exes on social media. Not because I miss them, not because anything is missing from my life, but just out of idle curiosity. A few months ago, seeing their pictures, activities and interactions with others might've caused me a pang of wisteria, perhaps even made me a little morose, but, interestingly, not tonight.
Just now, I flicked through some photo albums on which The Spaniard features on Facebook -- these have long since made private because, simply, it'd be a bit weird still having albums with couple-y pictures in. I used to look at these and feel some sort of emotion -- mostly memories of how I felt when the pictures were taken. It used to make me sad to look at these knowing that, at the time, I had feelings for him whilst he remained totally impassive. But today looking at it, it feels strange even to think that I was once with this man, and that I could possibly ever have felt anything towards him other than to loathe his utter selfishness. It feels so good knowing that I've moved on and, most of all, it feels brilliant not caring a jot any more.
It's funny how time and distance gives you such perspective. I wish I could go back to earlier this year and tell the then 'me' who was feeling so sad and lonely -- even before The Spaniard broke it off with me -- that she deserved so much more than the twat she was with and, that in a few short months time, she would find comfort and her smile again in a friend, if only she would look closer.
The funny thing is this. On the day that I got wind that The Spaniard was going to break it off with me, I was on a big group outing/celebration. I'd gotten TS's text that he wanted to 'talk', and I knew there was nothing else we needed to talk about (eventually, the whole break up process took about 2.5 weeks cos he was a spineless idiot). It had been a long time coming and, even though I knew that, I felt utterly alone, worthless and unlovable. But I didn't want to spoil the mood of the group, so, though it made my chest hurt, I contained my sadness. One person made that afternoon bearable, though he couldn't have known of my pain. Though I was a grumpy cow that day, verging on sullen, he stuck around and he made me smile and brought me comfort. That person was the Cute Nerd - the man I've been seeing for a little while. I didn't know it then, but we would go on to become firm friends, then flirt outrageously, dancing around the fact that we both wanted each other, culminating in a kiss on the platform of Piccadilly Circus Station.
So there you go. Life has a funny way of changing direction just when you're tired of the journey. It's by no means over yet, but it's certainly gotten interesting.
Just now, I flicked through some photo albums on which The Spaniard features on Facebook -- these have long since made private because, simply, it'd be a bit weird still having albums with couple-y pictures in. I used to look at these and feel some sort of emotion -- mostly memories of how I felt when the pictures were taken. It used to make me sad to look at these knowing that, at the time, I had feelings for him whilst he remained totally impassive. But today looking at it, it feels strange even to think that I was once with this man, and that I could possibly ever have felt anything towards him other than to loathe his utter selfishness. It feels so good knowing that I've moved on and, most of all, it feels brilliant not caring a jot any more.
It's funny how time and distance gives you such perspective. I wish I could go back to earlier this year and tell the then 'me' who was feeling so sad and lonely -- even before The Spaniard broke it off with me -- that she deserved so much more than the twat she was with and, that in a few short months time, she would find comfort and her smile again in a friend, if only she would look closer.
The funny thing is this. On the day that I got wind that The Spaniard was going to break it off with me, I was on a big group outing/celebration. I'd gotten TS's text that he wanted to 'talk', and I knew there was nothing else we needed to talk about (eventually, the whole break up process took about 2.5 weeks cos he was a spineless idiot). It had been a long time coming and, even though I knew that, I felt utterly alone, worthless and unlovable. But I didn't want to spoil the mood of the group, so, though it made my chest hurt, I contained my sadness. One person made that afternoon bearable, though he couldn't have known of my pain. Though I was a grumpy cow that day, verging on sullen, he stuck around and he made me smile and brought me comfort. That person was the Cute Nerd - the man I've been seeing for a little while. I didn't know it then, but we would go on to become firm friends, then flirt outrageously, dancing around the fact that we both wanted each other, culminating in a kiss on the platform of Piccadilly Circus Station.
So there you go. Life has a funny way of changing direction just when you're tired of the journey. It's by no means over yet, but it's certainly gotten interesting.
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