Moving on….Literally

So…quick update on the story (experienced by thousand upon thousands, no make that millions of women) We’re on holiday and he decided he wants to take a break – code for split up. In a funny way all i can hear in my head is Ross from Friends shouting “WE WERE ON A BREAK!” Bizarre what comes into your head in moments of stress!

Whilst on holiday his brother, and girlfriend come along for the ride. To be fair it kind of helped. Having to pretend that everything was ok, sort of made me cope with the whole things. We actually had quite a nice time. Lots of sunshine, nice food and a few drinks along the way.

It did change once we got home. After the first night back, where we were both so knackered we just fell into bed, he moved out of the bedroom. This is where things got really strange. It was so odd to suddenly not be touching, kissing hello/goodbye, cuddling up on the sofa together. It was like he became this art piece hung in a gallery, look but if you touch it all sorts of crazy alam systems would be set off and you would end up trapped and caught out. I must say this was the most horrendous part of the whole experience. It was then I knew for definite that we were going to part.

I will say that I did have the chance to look at our relationship for what it really ones. I discovered that actually I felt really neglected. His first priority was always work, and I had accepted that about him, but now I realised that, that was really unfair on me. Certainly over the last year or so this had become more and more apparent. I would look after the flat, make dinner , see friends, go to work and then be there all smiles for him, when he would always put work first, then rush round for other, then maybe think about me. However this always seemed to be balanced out by his generosity. If we went out for dinner he would pay, he would by me gifts, pay for holidays and other things. I do realize now that , that is hardly compensation for someone who would let you down, always be late, inform you of what he was doing never mind if it clashed with anything you would like to do, or finding out that any days off you both had that might coincide with each other (something that happen rarely with out careers) he was off seeing/ doing something else, and quite frankly barely even ask how your day was! SO time does lead to reflection and for the first time I really wasn’t very impressed with what I saw.

So, for another week we careful live round each other. Once I had accepted that there was going to be no hugs, (not that I thought we would be wrapped in each others arms for hours on end!) no personal contact, I felt a bit able to cope.

In typical man fashion, he did not bring up the situation so of course it was left to me to say something. Wednesday morning I did. I simply said, this is horrible can we please talk about it. Yes he said, this evening. So we did and after a few, well a lot and mostly his I might add, tears we split up. I told him how I felt, and he accepted that he had actually been a bit of a shit – but not a smelly one. Just very selfish. It felt good to tell him that. In a childish way it made me feel as though I could point score too, that I wasn’t happy about things and therefore it was a mutual decision. I know deep down that really it isn’t. But it was till good to get my point across, and for him to take it on the chin and accept it.

So fast forwards another couple of weeks, and tears in the car on the way home from work/friends/shopping. (my poor steering wheel must have some severe water damage!) and I am moving today. Luckily I have good friends, one of which is going through the exact same thing and had a spare room in the house she was moving to.

So here I am, embarking on some forgotten territory… being single. I am so terrified that I do not have that safety net of somebody there to laugh, talk and spend time with, but I am also ever so slightly, I couldn’t quite say excited yet, but I would say looking forward, to being answerable to no one but myself. To doing what I want and not having to consider another person. In short the opportunity to be selfish. I know it is going to be hard, and I know there are going to be times where I miss him terribly. The very fact that he has gone for the whole weekend, so he isn’t here when I leave says to me that he is struggling with it all a bit as well. And that at least shows he cares, even if it isn’t as must as he used to.

Update to follow, once the move is complete..wish me luck!

And so it begins……

So, here I am. Aged 33 and have just been dumped, after seven and  half years. To be fair he did it a nicely as he could, apart from the bombshell hitting down on the first night of our holiday. After a few glasses of wine…After a difficult few months of him being distance…After I had asked numerous times whether it was ‘us’ that was the problem and was told no….

So there I was, looking forward to a week of sun, books, walks around the village, good food, wine and a bit of a laugh and that got spectacularly kicked into touch within a few hours of touchdown. It was a fairly surreal moment. One minute we were talking about work, things we had been doing in the weeks leading up to the trip. Then as the wine kicked in I asked once more what had been bugging him? Then he said it – I’m not sure this is what I want anymore. There was a sense of relief that he had finally said something. I mean, we are not stupid us women, we can tell when something is wrong and we don’t always believe the answer you try and feed us. Yes there was more wine,  some cigarettes and then quite a few tears, an not just my own.

The hours that followed felt like days, but it was still dark and silent outside while we tried to work out what exactly he did want. One thing for sure is that it wasn’t marriage and children, well not for now that was for sure , and of course it wasnt fair on me as he knew that I wanted that ,blah blah blah… I dont really remember all the converstion, whether that was shock or wine I will never know. I do rememeber asking if I should move out, but was told no and that he would move into the spare room. 

I think the alcohol anethatised the pain a bit, but incresed the tears if that makes sense. I dont cry. I dont mean very often, but I actually dont cry. I hate it, I cannot see the purpose in it. What does it acheive other than make you look like you have had your eye balls ripped out your head, rolled about in cotton wool and then put back the wrong way round. I get the whole emotional reliease but, still I would rather spend 5 miutes gurning in the effort not to cry, that actually cry. Gives the face muscles a work out and is maybe why I dont have much on the wrinkle front? 

Of course we ended up in bed together, I guess we wanted to make each other feel better and that seemed the best way. The need to comfort and feel comforted is a strong pull and when it is the one person that gives you most comfort, who is causing you the pain I dont think the brain can quite compute that, so enevitably we end up in bed. 

I woke up feeling slightly out of sync with the world. Maybe cos I slept until 2pm, maybe because I was slighly hungover, or more likely I just had the sand sucked from under my flip flops and they dont excatly have the best grip on whatever it is that is left underneath. 

The only issue now was, how the hell was I going to get through the rest of the holiday? Esspecially as his brother and his girlfrind where flying out the next day to join us?

Help?!