Generally if things appear too good to be true it’s because they are. My fledgling relationship didn’t make it out of the nest, sadly.
I thought because we’d known each other so long things would be different, but I was wrong. I received a “Dear John” text. Usual excuse, “it’s not you, it’s me, I need space”. Whatever.
I don’t have a particular issue with that, if I’m honest. Everyone deals with things differently. Has daemons to battle and mountains to climb that others can’t see and don’t know about. If it’s not right, it’s not right.
What stung for me was the method of delivery. A text message. Not a face to face conversation or even a phone call. Just a text message in the early hours when he presumably thought I’d be asleep and not able to respond. I found that really disrespectful and pretty cowardly. Clearly being the first love/muse counts for nothing.
So I’m dusting myself off, trying to undent my pride and restore my dignity and self-esteem to functional levels. One day I shall be that old lady who wears purple, talks to trees and hoards cats. But not today.
2018 is still unfurling itself. I am determined it will be my year. My trust may be low and my cynicism high but hope still abounds; you never know what – or who – is just around the corner.