Drunk in Love

The second date I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Alex gave me his car. Back then, in my world, that was crazy. But now, I appreciate that it was a pretty normal thing in Alexander’s world. Who was this man, and how had I ended up with him?

 

Ashford International Hotel somewhere I used to consider ‘glitzy.’ It really was a simpler time. We got far too wasted at the bar, him laughing at me running away from the wasps outside when I popped out for some “fresh air” (cough, smoking, cough).

 

He almost left. It’s the rose-tinted glasses effect, selective memory, but Alex almost left. He wasn’t going to wait because I was running so late. In my defence, no one would give me a lift. I still didn’t have a car, nor any ability to plan (rolling my eyes). I had to do a 40-minute walk just to get there.

 

As if that man was going to leave after meeting me. Although this was still pre-“good” teeth. He got so drunk, and he was the cutest drunk. His laugh oh, that laugh was so contagious. It made me smile. It was just so silly, that childish giggle. I really hope I get to hear it again. I really hope he still has it.

 

I fell in love. I was in love. At least, that’s what I thought love was. It certainly felt like the kind of pain that only comes from love being torn away seven red wines deep, unable to get off the kitchen floor. But if it was truly love, could it end? I simply can’t accept the idea that true love ends. It’s meant to be timeless, ageless, endless. And yet, right there and then, it had ended. Alex was over. Sitting in the Windsor kitchen, I couldn’t see a way forward for me, for Alex, for us. Regrettably, we couldn’t work. We can’t.

 

But back to 2010 things moved quickly. From that first date in September to March 2011, I packed up and moved to Buckinghamshire. Over the next six months, we got a dog, I found a job, and we started building a life together.

 

It was the beginning of creating core memories defrosting wine over a saucepan, redecorating countless times, even knocking through walls for the second of two kitchen remodels, family lunches on Sundays, and traveling the world together. For a time, I could honestly say we were a team. But that quickly faded.

 

Smiles across the table, showing a united front, those “I got you” looks, slowly turned into eye rolls and muttered comments each one adding a brick to the walls he had so quickly torn down by making me feel safe and secure. The same man who had knocked down those walls was now the one forcing me to rebuild, brick by brick, just to feel safe. I created new characters with each brick as a safety blanket, building a wall greater than the one before, on the shaky foundations of what was left of my relationship with Alex. I wanted to feel safe from him, instead of safe with him.

 

My softer side, my true vulnerability, was always an essential part of who I am. It was one of my best qualities. But I don’t show it to anyone anymore, out of fear of being hurt. No matter how much I remind myself that not everyone will hurt me, and that Alex didn’t mean to hurt me, we both focused so hard on trying to build the perfect life together that we forgot to live the beautiful life we already had.

 

We worked towards the future without enjoying the present.