I have been writing this post for around eight months already.  I have started it just as many times.  I’m not sure why it’s taken so long, or why it’s been so hard to get out, but it just has.  Now, I’m sorry if a lot of this post it repetitive, and you may have heard it before, but I’ve tried to keep it as fresh as possible.

Now, I have tried on numerous occasions to write this without telling a story, but that has proven to be very difficult. Anyway, it’s a little long, but please bear with me, as I finally get it out.

A lot of people will tell you that one of the best ways to get over an ex is to jump into bed with who ever will have you.  This has it’s obvious benefits, but it has just as many negatives.

As most of you might know, my break up came to me as a bit of a surprise.  Yes, there were the problems that we were both very aware of, and the fact that she was moving to a new city played a huge role in it, but that exact reason was what I thought would keep us together until the very last possible moment.  It wasn’t to be, and I found myself hanging on.  (This is something I feel is quite obvious, though.  The person that is the one left clutching at straws will always have some hope… Blah blah blah). Anyway, about a month later, I was chatting to this girl online.  We’ll call her ‘RBG’. We were friends of friends and have never met but had occasionally chatted via the mass emails that were sent over Gmail. I actually thought she was a bit freaky.  In the state I was in, there was little that was better than staying at home every night and spending large amount of time online doing nothing in particular.

It started very simply, one night:

22:16 RBG: Why on earth are you online at this time of night?

That night, we spoke for an hour. 240 lines long. A week later, the conversations spanned over 600 lines. RBG and I started chatting a lot more.  We got on really well with each other.  Sent a couple of photos to each other.  Told each other secrets.  She had recently broken up with her long term boyfriend.  She was the perfect distraction.  I had started feeling myself again.   A day after 600 lines, I went over to her place with a bottle of wine.  We had officially met.  We watched a movie, ate chocolate and drank rather large glasses of wine.  All was well.  And it ended very well.  I stayed over there that night and it pretty much took off from there.  I was the perfect person.  I made her dinner.  I did the dishes when she cooked.  I made her smile and laugh.  And, I made her sweat,  I left her wanting more.  I was so excited by her.  I told my friends about her.  She even took me to a ballet, and I went with no second thought.  I tried to make her happy.  She, after all, was also going through one or two bad things too.  We were both aware of the dangers after just getting out of a relationship.  And I certainly was not ready for anything crazy deep.  But what we had was awesome.  And now, SHE left me wanting more.  This was surprising.  This was good.  This, all the while, trying to forget the ex.

And it was working too.  Until the ex called.  She needed something one night, and she didn’t know who else to call.  Generally, I am the guy that friends would call when they’re in a spot, and I would help out without thinking about it.  I had no problem with it.  Now, that, along with the fact that my ex now was wanting to see me, had me out there helping without any hesitance in 5 seconds flat.

This is where The Ex and I sort of started talking again. It had been about 7 or 8 weeks since we had broken up and I was quite happy not talking to her.  But I missed her.   And, you still have that little bit of something that tells you she wants you back.  She broke up with me, of course I thought she had some inkling to get back together.  But that really was never my intention.  It was over and I had completely accepted that. Then why the hell was I fixing things?  Why did we start talking again?  Why did we try so damn hard?!  It always seems worth, but now, isn’t hindsight the most wonderful thing.

RBG and I had been seeing each other for a couple of months and it was amazing. Everything I did with her was great.  Every second was worth it.  I never wanted to be anywhere else or with anyone else.  It was a tough time, though. We were both writing exams and had other things happening.   But this was when my head told me that I wasn’t ready to a relationship.  “STOP!  What the fuck are you doing?!  You are bruised and broken and here you are putting yourself in a vulnerable position! Idiot!”

“But it made me feel better!” I tried to reason.   But no, my brain took over and started to affect the relationship RBG and I had.  I stopped trying, and stopped being so affectionate.  But I still loved being around her and with her.  And then I lied to The Ex.  I had told her that I hadn’t been with anyone, thinking that this would tell her how weak I was and how much she should know I needed her.  Again, blah blah blah! Whatthefuck was I thinking?!  In reality, I think I needed to know if she had been with anyone.  But no one should ever have that knowledge.  It will only cause more damage than good.   I think this is a good time to point out that RBG knew I was seeing the ex, and this made things very difficult.  She was uncomfortable with it, and I could see it in her face, yet she never really said anything.

I kept seeing RBG for a another couple of weeks or so after that day at The Ex’s.  A bit later, I was seeing The Ex again, and somehow, my lie had reared it’s ugly head.  There were a lot of tears.  I then had to explain a lot.  Some things I wouldn’t have ordinarily told her.  Things about RBG – Like how long and if I had feelings for her. She said it was for me lying to her, that all her trust had disappeared and she didn’t think we could ever be friends.  These were not the words I ever wanted to hear, especially after we were so cautious to be friends again. After much arguing and trying to calm her, we eventually found a sort of middle ground.  I can’t really explain it now, because I’m not entirely sure I understood it all – I mean, I was still confused as to why we had broken up in the first place.

The next day, RBG was leaving. She had finished varsity and was moving back home to a land far far away.  Things with her and I had to end.  She was moving away, only to be seen when she came back to pack up her house. We spoke and both knew we needed to end things. So we did. Right?  She was clearly very attached, and I knew it too.  But so was I.  We eventually said goodbye with a kiss. Reality is too complex to let it end there.  We continued to sms each other messages and chatted regularly.  The time came and she was coming back to Cape Town.  I tried not to kiss her, but resistance was futile.  It only went as far as that kiss but the next day, I slapped her with the news that I would be driving across the country with The Ex to move her back to her home.  Things were not well and we stopped talking completely. But this was what I wanted and needed right?  To get that emotional worry and burden out my life while I still so raw from the last one.  (Just for the record, nothing happened between The Ex and me on the drive.  Nothing at all.  Can someone be the first to believe it?)

I’m not sure what happened but she eventually stopped being angry at me and we chatted once or twice.  She told me she would be back here for new years.  I was apprehensive but the day came and I was actually going to go.  It was at a house in a town about an hour outside here.  I had met the host once but there were a few close friends going and they convinced me to go.  I mean, what else could I do?!    A few of the group, some of which I had never met, went through a few days before. This few included RBG.  So I drove there in my car.  Things were weird.   Very uncomfortable, but I was determined to be okay with it and we would see how things would go.  We all took a walk down to the beach.  It was there that I noticed RBG and The Host.  There was definitely something there.  I’m not blind (really).  I saw it.  And it upset me.  I was furious.  Who did this guy think he was?!  And seriously, what was her aim in this whole thing?

I tried to put it aside, I even invited her to go to the shops with me to talk it out, but she declined.  Things were still very weird with us.  So I left the house and tried to make myself feel better. It didn’t work.  I was a little shocked that I even felt this way in the first place.  I wasn’t the one who was supposed to have these feelings.  I was clearly in this more than I had ever realised.

We eventually got the balls to sit down and talk about it.  Alcohol is good for some things.  She told me that she missed me and I told her the same.  She kissed me, and I kissed her back.  She then stops and tells me that she can’t and needs to go back to the party.  Things are a little better.  She tells me that we need to try and enjoy ourselves. Pah!  Simple, hey.  We leave her room and go our separate ways.  She goes back to The Host, and at least she tries to be discrete about it.  He looks at me.  I tell him with my eyes that she really wants to be with me, and you’re just a lame second.  Oh yes, you’re an asshole too.

We do our own thing, but I don’t feel any better.  I tell a friend about it, and he hates the guy with me.  Calls her a bitch too.  Haha.  It’s the little things, I guess.  RBG and I try and play is cool, but that doesn’t seem to be working, and we found ourselves in her room again.  We kiss again.  All over each other, but someone breaks the kiss.  She looks upset, and starts to cry.  I don’t quite know what to do, but we talk it out for a little bit, before she looks deeply into my eyes and tells me that she’s fallen in love with me.  I’m pretty much speechless at this stage, and I don’t really know what do do or say.  I remember kissing her again.  We talk for a little bit more about how much of an idiot I have been and how things may have been different.  She again leaves, saying that she can’t do this, even thought she so desperately wants to as she has spent he last few weeks trying to repair herself.  She tells me that I crushed her.  She leaves to go back to The Host, and I avoid her.  I get really angry.  Frustrated.  Lost. Mad. You name it.  And this cocky, womanising fuck with his condescending smirk, just being there.

So the friend and I got high.  It was quite possibly the best thing I could do.  I tried to stay away and pretend.  But I knew I couldn’t.  And so did she.  We didn’t speak again that night.  When sleep finally called me, I found myself a couch and closed my eyes, hoping for it to come soon.  Instead, all I could hear were sounds.  Not sounds you ever want to hear.  Sounds of her with him.  Sounds that make you want to be sick.  Even a year later, they still make me sick.  It’s something I will never forget.

The next day went quickly.  I left the instant I could, and that was that.  We didn’t speak for a long time.  But when we finally did, she wanted to know why I was so upset.  So I told her.  She had no idea what had happened.  Didn’t help the fact that it hurt so much.  Didn’t change anything.  She left a few weeks later to the UK, and I wanted nothing to do with her.  But I forgive people too easily.  Never forgetting.  I will never forget.  This year has been hard, but it’s another thing that has helped me grow.  I forgave her and a few months later we were talking again.  Things were okay.  I was over it. Mostly.  Yet, ironically, I missed her a lot.  Can’t explain why, but it just is.  I don’t know if I ever loved her, but she’s a really lovely person that just helped in the whole process.   I know I hurt her.  But she hurt me too. In saying that, I think she and I will be really good friends one day, if not already.

So, there I sat, months later, missing RBG.  A lot. I tried to tell her too.  In fact, I did tell her.  I used those exact words, but whether it was the wall she had put up to protect herself, or she just didn’t care anymore, but I didn’t get the response I was looking for.  Using another cliché, you never know what you have until it’s gone. And the cherry on top, the grass is always greener on the other side. Always.

This whole rodeo is a tough sport to be in.  They say that the best thing to do is get back on the horse, though.  You’ve just fallen off, bumped your head on the ground, you have a bit of a headache, but you’re okay.  You give it a couple of days, that was a hard damn fall.  However, there you are, a week later, riding away happily.  Things are going really great now.  You are having the most awesome time.  Things are feeling really good too, and you are settling into a rhythm that you could ride with forever.  But then the horse decides it’s PMS is too bad this month and bucks wildly.  You’re thrown badly off it, landing awkwardly on your shoulder, and you hear your clavicle snap.  The horse doesn’t run away, no, it comes back, sees you riling on the floor in pain, and proceeds to trample all over you, breaking 3 ribs and fracturing your left leg.  You also have a concussion.  You’re broken, both physically and emotionally, and you never see yourself ever riding again.

But now, weeks pass and you miss it.  Badly.  You miss your horse.  The way it galloped in a technique only you could fathom.  And it had the most beautifully groomed mane.  But that bitch broke you.  And you never forget.  So you try a few other horses.  Ugly, unattractive, shallow horses, but they ride really badly and all you’re left with is a stiff back and what feels like a hangover.  Then, one day, you’re walking through the stables and you come across a real beauty, the kind of horse that makes you stop and just admire.  Without thinking, you jump on it, and bolt out the stable at full speed, riding for miles and miles.  You’re having a really great time until you realise how far you’ve gone out and you’re already exhausted.  The horse still seems ready for more, so you slow down to a trot to try keep it happy, but it still doesn’t help.  You’re too concerned your riding fitness is really low, so you eventually turn and make your way back, with the horse seemingly unhappy.  You eventually get back to the stables, and dismount slowly.  You’re both hurting, and went way to fast to appreciate it properly.  You leave awkwardly and call every now and then to see how the horse is, but that long hard ride caused reoccurring injuries that you thought were all better.  This time, treatment is harder, longer, and much more painful.  You don’t think you’ll ever ride again.

The hardest part of a breakup is the recovery, obviously.  No one can tell you how to do it, or how long it’ll take before you’re okay, but when you’re ready to jump back on the horse, you’ll know.  About a month after my breakup, I got together with a really amazing girl.  We were together for a few months, but it really was too soon for me, and I ruined something that may have been very different if it had been at a different time.  I’m so truly happy that it happened, maybe not totally the way it did happen, but happy, still, and I’m really glad we’re good friends now.  She doesn’t really know how much I appreciate her and how much I really adore her.  I’ve tried to tell her, but I’m not sure she really believes me.  Needless-to-say, she was soon out of my life, and I was once again left in a painful hole.

The good thing about this time is that it was my time.  It was the first time in quite a few years that I was just with me, to be me, to learn more and to grow.  The recovery period has taken a long time, but it really has been about me; I haven’t even had the odd fling.  But now, I think I’m ready, for whatever this damn world has to offer.

Or so I thought.  I had been chatting to this girl for quite some time, getting quite close, and very personal.  And I kinda really liked her.  But Twitter causes problems as well as fixes them, and due to our online presence, we both got affected by seeing things, even if there wasn’t anything there to begin with.  And what makes it worse, we were not in any type of real relationship whatsoever.  Wait, that can’t be true, I like this girl.  But she got hurt, and drifted slowly away without actually telling me what was wrong, and I was far too slow in drawing the answer out of her.  So, after all of that, she wanted the “let’s start from the beginning” approach.  Yay.

So, here we sit, both online.  My brain tells me not to message her because I shouldn’t.  It really sucks when you know you should stop, but you just can’t.  So, of course, the first few nights I didn’t stop.  I tried, tried both to stop, and then to see if there was anything still there.  Too little to late, though, and I got nothing.  There was once a small glimmer, a glimmer I didn’t quite understand, but it turned out to be a funny reflection.  She’s still online and it makes me wonder who she’s talking to now, who has her pretty, amazing attention.  She’s probably reading this, in which case, don’t get freaked out, but it had to be said.  I guess it’s time for another medium recovery now.  It’s a real pity.  Really.  But I’m ready, and I will be fine.  Bring on the stables…