Moving On

Last night I met with W. We were having a catch up and he was telling me about his ex girlfriend. Apparently she saw him and his new flame out together last Friday night, kissing in a bar just off Leicester Square. She has since been texting him relentlessly, telling him what a bastard he is for breaking up with her, and that he has ruined her life. She’s also been texting some of his mates, to remind them what a bastard their friend is – just in case they didn’t know. Quite what she hopes to achieve from this lunacy, other than a restraining order is quite beyond me. It got me thinking though about my own ex girlfriend, and made me realise how fortunate I am. You see, my ex is one of my best friends. We have a close and healthy relationship and she is a family friend. In fact the only thing that had made me wonder of late is how our relationship might change in the event of either of us meeting someone new. This brings me onto last Saturday, which proved to be a bit of a milestone. What happened last Saturday? I hear you ask. Well, I will tell you.

I had been in the gym for an hour and a half and decided that I had earned the right to a greasy breakfast - well my willpower in the gym only goes so far after all. I walked the short distance to my local cafe and made my way through the front door. Once inside I was looking forward to bacon and eggs and the morning papers. It was busier than usual as I scanned the room for a free table. Above the noise of the chattering clientele and the barking of the cafe owner to the kitchen staff, someone called out to me. It was A, my ex girlfriend. I noticed there was a jacket on the chair opposite her and a half eaten plate of food in front of it. In my mind I realised who they belonged to and had the new found knowledge that her new boyfriend (who I had recently heard about) was in the building. From there my mind darted to the next important question. Not the menu, but what did he look like? Now in practical and grown up fashion, this shouldn't have mattered or even occurred to me. She is my ex girlfriend after all, and I want to be happy for her and have good things happen in her life. As such I should have just focused on the menu and started thinking about my stomach's breakfast desire. But somehow, there was something inside me that wondered. It wondered about things like, what if he was better looking than me? What if he was richer? What if he had a George Clooneyesque square jaw and tan and that the Porsche convertible parked outside really belonged to him? You know, the usual paranoia. These thoughts, were racing through my mind as I engaged in the "how's work?" chit chat of an everyday catch up.

And then, he appeared and sat next to me. "Hi," he said "Nice to meet you". Needless to say, he was a regular guy and perfectly pleasant. Not George Clooney, not Ricky Gervais, just a nice guy. We chatted, my ex smiled, no doubt happy that we appeared to get on. Then eventually, after nearly half an hour of greasy (although delicious) food and conversation, the three of us left. We said our goodbyes outside and I walked one way and my ex and her new boyfriend walked another. As I walked I looked over my shoulder to see her arm around his waist and his draped over her shoulder as they huddled and walked in the crisp morning air.

And that was that. I turned back the way I was walking and smiled. I was happy for her and glad that she found a nice relationship, but my smile was more for myself. I was feeling happy and contented - I had moved on.