If there is one moment worse in a relationship than hearing the sentence “We need to talk” then it’s surely the post split meet. This isn’t even the post split swapping of things at each other flats situation but the possible reconciliation/argument/kiss/tears/silence/agony situation.
Tonight I met up with Emm, the Split was only a week old, but it somehow already felt bedded in (as Alan Titchmarsh would say, though he’d be referring probably to a chrysthananumum or an onion or something, and not a vague notion of being apart from the one that you shouldn’t be, but are).
Now, I’ve been in this situation before.
Walking up to meet the one you loved but can no longer have is odd. You see them in a fresh light. Suddenly she is perfect again and not the monster I had her pegged as last week, within three seconds I can see exactly why I fell in love with her. I get near, she is turned away from me, she hasn’t yet seen me. This is a dilemma, my instincts are all telling me that this is my girlfriend in front of me, and any other time over the last nine months in this situation I would have thrown my arms around her or said something funny or kissed her or something. But know, she is not my girlfriend. I wonder how I would approach a friend, possibly with a hug, or something funnily said. But she is also now not a friend, just a girl I know. So I say hello.
As we make eye contact I see the same restraint in her eyes forcing back the autopilot hug. We walk to a pub.
In the pub conversation is stilted. The big cloud above us is almost visible as we chatter about work, films, Edinburgh and pretty much any other subject on earth that isn’t us. We are laughing, but not in the normal way. This is like when you’ve been with a group of people in a pub and been left with someone that you don’t know, but yet get on with very well. There is a connection, but every topic of everything is superficial and unimportant.
By coincidence we both sup our pints at the same time. The ensuing silence holds. It’s enough to start the rain. I think I started by saying the word “so…” The casual small talk disappeared and the next half hour was spent dissecting what was untouchable only a couple of months ago.
I’d say To Be Continued, but it’s not.