10:20 am
I haven’t slept much. Pretty normal: after all, when you end a relationship, you kind of get disorientated when you realise that some of your habits, the ones that you had established with your partner, will change. Or will no longer be there. It’s not only Love to come to an end, but also many little things that you might have taken for granted, such as sharing a car, having breakfast together or going to the cinema on a specific day of the week. All of a sudden, that piece of lifestyle that had the power of making us feel good, joyful or confident, is no longer available. In its place, a destabilizing feeling, so deeply annoying that we start to doubt – even when we already know the answer- our decision to end the relationship. Like me now: I faced him, I talked to him, I communicated my decision, supported by rational evidence; and shortly after that, I started to freak out and I don’t even know exactly why.
But I won’t desist: I will be faithful to my instinct and go with my gut. So, let’s make some space to positive-thinking, creativity and elation. I will be the workshop of myself. It will be such a party.
14:30
Such a lousy weather.
16:30
I’m so rundown. In pieces. Depressed, to say the least. I’m useless. I miss him, and there’s not much I can do about it.
17:30
Or maybe there is: I could text him.
17:33
No. Come on, I’d be a real b*tch: first I declare I’m not ready for a relationship, and then I tease him? No. Stop f**king around with that phone, Donna. Get a grip.
17:34
Tell you what: I will only compose the message without sending it. Just to see what it would look like. “I’m so sad, really missing you. I don’t expect a reply from you…”.
No, wait: this way he will understand that I totally want him to reply.
“…I don’t want you to reply”.
No, this would give him the impression that I don’t want him to talk to me at all.
“…you don’t have to reply. I only want you to know”.
Humph, this is just so wrong!
17:45
“I think of you 100 times a minute. I miss you. Being apart is difficult and painful. Maybe texting you is wrong, but this is torture. I have a lump on my thr”.
No more space available.
Shall I hit the ‘send’ button? Will he think that I’m unstable? Well, what difference would it make?
17:46
Sent
17:47
He hasn’t replied
17:48
He’s not calling
17:49
Maybe he hasn’t read it
17:50
Maybe he hasn’t received it
17:51
Maybe my phone doesn’t work very well
18:30
Oh my God! It’s flashing! A text! A text from him!
“Nothing wrong in texting me. I’m sad too. I’ll get over it”.
What the hell? ‘GET OVER IT’?!
This is totally unexpected. Where are the desperate attempts to win me back? The imploring prayers? The changes he’s willing to undergo to save our love? I mean he’s supposed to send me flowers, or at least Neapolitan babà, or…I don’t know, playing Nino D’Angelo's or Gigi D’Alessio's sloppy songs!
I am honestly appalled.
Totally unacceptable behaviour.
What if he gets too over it?
What if he finds comfort in a busty, blonde, beanpole, which he can totally pick up because he’s so good-looking?
19:30, at work
I am sweeping the outdoor area of the pub, when I hear a car tooting. It’s him. Why is he not stopping? Maybe he will go around the block and he’ll come back?
19:34
Clearly that wasn’t the case.
19:35
What shall I do? I feel like calling him, just to say ‘hi’.
19:36
No, I can’t. That would be completely out of order.
For Christ’s sake, where is that confidence I had? My fulfilment in being lonely, the bad-ass attitude and the right dose of feminism which provided the platform from which to shout the axiom "relationship = jail"?
Did I make a mistake or do I just have to get used to the idea?
He’s really not the right man for me? Says who?
Very confused.
20:47
Oh My God.
He’s just got into the pub.
He’s waving at a girl who’s already sat. Who’s she?
He’s sitting at her table.
Now they’re drinking together. They’re chatting away.
Not that she’s a ‘wow’, you know. Pretty dull, if you ask me.
Ha! Now he’s standing up. He’s heading towards the door. He’s left her by herself. Ha!
Yes, but he’s also left me without the chance of talking to him.
3:36 am, at home
I’m so tempted to text him, but luckily I don’t have any credit.
“Tonight at the pub I saw someone who made my heart race”.
What an absolute idiot I am.
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