Hello blogging world!
After becoming single for the first time in almost 4 years (3 years and 9 months to be precise, but who’s counting?), I thought I’d start a blog to detail the trials and tribulations of being a single 20somthing in the UK. 4 months in and I’ve already got a few interesting stories to tell! All names – including my own – will be changed throughout this blog.
But first things first, we have to go back to the beginning. Which is really the end I suppose. I was madly in love – let’s call him John. We spent 2 years as friends and got together at the end of school. John was everything I ever wanted; sweet, attentive, in tune with his emotions, and we were completely in sync. Then 3 months in, I went off to university, 2 hours away.
In our first year he was working nights at a warehouse, so although we were basically in different time zones, he could afford to visit every single weekend. It was almost like the distance wasn’t there. We talked about moving in together, marriage, kids, the lot. In our second year he then started university in his hometown. The plan was always to build a life together after we’d both graduated, even though I would do so a year before him. Due to circumstances that were not his fault, he had basically no money while at university. He still visited when he could, but over the next 2 years every week became once a fortnight, which became once a month. Good morning texts disappeared, and during my final year (his second year) I would go 36hours without hearing from him at all. I probably should mention that he studied Acting.
Rehearsals consumed him and I continued to slip his mind. I cannot count the number of times we argued about him forgetting about me. My argument being, if I was that important to him he wouldn’t forget to message me, as he was always at the forefront of my mind, I expected to be the forefront of his. His argument being that his passion was his life and he was desperate to get a good grade, he had a one track mind and so could only focus on one thing at a time. I’m not saying either of us were right or wrong but it was certainly a conflict of interest. When I graduated I got a job. A job that took me 8 hours away. We were strained at 2 hours, so of course this was a big concern for me. I asked John if he could see himself moving to my city when he graduated, would it be good for him and his career as well as our relationship. I knew acting was the first thing in his life that he was truly passionate about, something I believed he could be successful in, and I never wanted to get in the way of that. But the plan always was to live together when he graduated. I said that if he couldn’t see himself moving up then we needed to end things there and then, the distance was killing me already and I wasn’t going to struggle for another 9 months if there wasn’t going to be a relationship at the end of it. He assured me he would be happy to move. So we embarked on an even longer distance relationship, with the hope that it would all be over once he graduated.
Things became extremely difficult from the second I moved. It took me 6 weeks to get him to visit the first time, when I couldn’t take any time off work, and he was having every other Friday off university. Because he was busy. Communication was breaking down and even when we saw each other it became filled with ill thoughts and arguments. He visited a total of 2 times, I travelled down 4 times, including valentines weekend, and surprising him for one of his final assessments playing his dream role. He then said he didn’t want to move in July (our original plan), he wanted to move in October. People had been telling me for months that he didn’t really want to move, I kept telling them they were wrong. So this hit me like a tonne of bricks. Things were falling apart, were we really going to make an extra 3 or 4 months? Then what? Would he move it until after Christmas? The following year? After a long, long, talk he finally admitted to me, and to himself, that he didn’t want to move to my city, it wouldn’t be good for his career. We weren’t making each other happy for a long time before this conversation, the only thought that was keeping me going was the idea that we would sort it out when he moved. That was no longer an option, so we mutually decided to end it. It was hard, we were still in love, we spent our final few days together knowing it was probably the last time we’d see each other, and then I drove the 8 hours home, a little more broken than the last time I did that journey.
Interestingly I wasn’t sad for as long as I thought I would be. Yes I was madly in love with John, but we hadn’t been happy for probably about 12 months before we broke up, and it was over in my head (If I’m honest with myself) for at least 4 months prior. We continued to talk for a while, but he would tell me he still loved me and that he missed me, it wasn’t good for either of us. He was finding it much more difficult than me. I hate to admit it, but actually, after the break up, I was happier than I had been in months. I could finally fully immerse myself in my new life, forge new friendships, explore new places. My social life completely blossomed. This is when the fun, and not so fun, stories begin! But I’ll save those for future posts.
And if anyone was interested, John ended up getting a First in his Acting degree, which he has just finished. I am pleased for him, he worked very hard, and I’m glad our break up didn’t end up impacting negatively on his grade.
That’s it for now! Next time I’ll be talking about an embarrassing incident that happened 2 days after the break up… Oops!!
Jane xx
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