late last week sometime my expartner told me she’d started seeing someone up in Cairns. She spent some time explaining that it wasnt going to go anywhere, it had natural constraints due to incompatibilities and her desire to eventually move back down to Melbourne. He’s just a very close friend really, she said finally.
I thought that she’d spent a bit too much time explaining all this for me to really believe her. It was nice that she wanted to let me down gently. Of course, she could be telling it as it is. She’s not the sort of person to lie to that extent.
I chose however to believe that she was seeing someone in a real sense, not just in a relationship of convenience, friendly sense. It is after all another stage in breaking up, in living separate lives. And now that she’s 5000 kilometres away, it felt to me that it would be easier to accept that she’d moved on and through that come to some sense as to how much I’ve moved on.
And I have moved on. But not as much as I would have liked.
Perhaps it was because the weekend was uncharacteristically party free for me – oh, there was a small hippy affair at Amber Rhythms and I caught up with a close interstate friend (and her new bf) on Saturday night and there was a marathon BBQ on Sunday that saw me drinking way too much beer but I was in bed early every night and there was a distinct lack of dancing.
As has become more common for me ever since my ex moved out, my days are happier and more contented than they have been for a long time. That hasn’t changed. But in the last four nights or so, I’ve started dreaming of her again. The dream that still stays with me is quite simple and short. I’m walking in the local supermarket and I see her with her back to me descending down the stairs. I am overjoyed to see her but then I realize that she’s in Cairns still and it cant be her. At that point, I woke up, jolted awake and struggling for breath, choked by the strongest physical sensation of grief I’ve felt while dreaming.