“I thought about getting back together too… Just a few days ago, actually”, he told me, while he stirred the red sauce we were making. A small part of me couldn’t help but smile, both with the joy that accompanied the thought, as well as the sweet relief… I wasn’t the only one thinking it.
I didn’t know how to answer him. What could I say? Admit that I simply hoped he would stay in love with me till we could be together again? After spending years trying to actively convince myself that career should come before relationships, at least during my early 20s, saying that would’ve sounded too dependent.
I said, “I figured we both wanted to get together”. A nice compromise from my real thoughts.
Whenever we spoke of our emotions, he always seemed distant. He would say how he feels, but would sound indifferent, almost. This didn’t particularly bother me, I had known for a long time what a reserved person he was. But this made him so difficult to understand. It was like the paradox of rain on a sunny day, or humanity’s ongoing ‘fight for peace’.
At that moment, I started to question everything. All the reasons we had to break up seemed irrelevant, to say the least.
I turned him away from the oven, facing towards me, stared into his big, gorgeous brown eyes, and said “I want to get back together. Just be with me.” I leant in, and we kissed. It was a glorious kiss which I had only experienced once before with him, and since then longed to feel the same again.
If only I had done that. We both agreed that we wanted to be together, and the conversation moved on.
I cursed my logical and reasonable brain. I wondered what it would be like to act emotionally and irrationally at the right moments – I wondered how my life would be, had I not re-thought every action about a dozen times before doing it.
“I thought about getting back together too, just a few days ago, actually”. It was as if the words had come out of my mouth almost instantaneously. I bit my lower lip, stopping myself from saying anything else. I already made a fool of myself as is. She probably thought I was pathetic, and refused to let go of her – although I never really wanted to let go of her in the slightest… that part only had my self-discipline to blame.
I shamefully looked down at the food on the hob, avoiding eye contact. She fell silent, as if confused on what to say next.
“I figured we both wanted to get back together”. What a relief to hear those words.
I craved holding her, I craved looking into her deep, dark eyes, and leaning in to kiss her. But she had brought up breaking up. What else could we do, living so far apart from each other?
I stirred the red sauce once more, knowing its taste was too far from her sweeter lips.