Moving on: A Farce

Seemingly never-ending ramblings on the enigma of love.
A break up is generic. We all know the personal grief, the repetitive thoughts, the incessant waves of loneliness, just to name a few. Of course, some people have mature break ups. But those sound pretty boring, since you still feel those things, you’re just not allowed to dwell on them in the name of being “mature”.
It’s been over a month since my break up, and over 7 months since I’ve last seen him. At first I thought time would make things easier. I went through the sadness that was expected, even by Eid I was still majorly low energy. After that was the anger and some bargaining. Again, generic. I was mad at him for a variety of reasons, none of which held up to any kind of scratch.
When they say you shouldn’t talk to your ex, I don’t think any of us really listen. We talk on and off, still to this day really. At some point it was fun, and a sweet conversation with a loved one is never a bad thing, even if you’re trying (but not really) to get over that loved one. Eventually, it started feeling as though nothing had changed. The things we did in long distance were largely the same as we were doing now, as “single” friends.
I got kind of drunk last night and lost the little inhibition I had. I texted him a line almost verbatim from my journal. “It sucks walking around knowing there’s someone out there who would love me so deeply and genuinely, if only I weren’t so far away.” A fucking cosmic joke. I unsent it in the morning, not sure if it was too late or not. But he didn’t engage. He’s always been better at the self control part of these things. These being purely emotional decisions.
I’ve been wearing my university t-shirt recently. Once to work, but mainly as a pyjama top. I started thinking maybe I’m so sad about Adrian because he was my last connection to who I have been for the past 3 years. Maybe I just don’t want to think that university Farah has sailed, gone for good. All the freedom and lack of responsibilities that came with being a student. All that the walks, going to Hyper or Tesco, the lake. Now, I’ve made my mature bed. I have a job (that’s a whole other source of grief), I need to open a bank account, I have phone calls with suppliers, and can only go to Sahel on the weekends. While I’m still glad I got to finish uni as soon as the pandemic hit, to avoid paying exorbitant tuition fees on overglorified Zoom meetings - I don’t think I realised how fast life would move on.
Shahbano asked me if I’d still be willing to get back together with Adrian if we had the chance. I know I love him enough to blindly go back to calling him mine. Because I do, and I would want to. But we know how it would go. Long distance just can’t sustain us. I told her I don’t think I can because of that, but also becuase it seriously hurt me when he wasn’t willing to "move” here for a while (a month). I know as a 20-something year old, it’s incredibly selfish to try and pressure someone to move across continents for a relationship. I don’t necessarily feel guilty about wanting it, but I understand it was overboard. Still, it’s hard not to feel mislead. When it’s so difficult for me as an Egyptian to just get a visa, whereas he (with an American & European passport to his name) can just hop over at any point.
Recently, I’ve thought about deleting our chat. As if that’s how I can force myself to stop looking backwards. I mean, I do daydream about a future where we run into each other, but that’s neither here nor there. I don’t know if it’ll help, if even make a difference. I rarely delete these kinda things. Last week, I stumbled upon mine & Shibini’s old discord chat, made me laugh at how cringe we were. Anyways, it’s hard to move on when I’d still gladly throw myself at his affection. Trimming excess love hurts. Maybe another month will help, or maybe I’ll still be stuck in this weird loop. Of loving then hurting. Of being sappy, then unsending. Headaches & heartaches, and wondering how the fuck to keep going.
By all accounts, these days I’m actually doing a pretty good job of trying to move on. Today I sent someone topless pictures. It was the first time I’d sent anyone other than Adrian an intimate picture of myself. I’ve also convinced myself I have a date tomorrow when it’s likely nothing more than a quick trip to Diwan and back. I am hopeful it’ll be fun, and the dude is super sweet, but I don’t wanna force myself to blindly go where I think I should. Isn’t that what moving on is though? If it is then I guess I’m doing great. But in general, I know once I cross a line it’ll be hard to pretend like things are casual.
I do wonder how Adrian’s doing often. Not as much, but still substantial. He’s on his work grind, I know that much, since X-works is due to launch soon. It’s actually kind of nice to not be (or at least feel) secondary to dumb apps. The line between career-driven and workaholic was always pretty blurred with him. He was working all through university, and then some. I am grateful, he’s the reason I was able to get into UX/UI at all. Doesn’t take away from the burnout he started feeling recently. Does the socialist in me or the desire to be a housewife stop me from seeing career as the all-important facet of life?
I just remembered on Saturday, me being stupid and reading back mine & Adrian’s chat from 2nd year pre-relationship. I screenshotted some things. You can really tell where we were headed. I saw a text where he proposed living together post-graduation. I told him it depends on visa tings really; he said it didn’t have to be in the UK. That hurt. It all feels surreal. Obviously, you shouldn’t take what a 20-year old in a fresh relationship says too seriously, but the seed was planted. And now I flashback to that fucking phone call that ruined it. I’m not mad anymore. I have Russell Square to think of. All the ‘lib’ and ‘j?’ texts felt wholesome. University life. Pre-covid life. All surreal, and all in the fucking past.
I can’t tell if I’m necessarily a different person now. I still love him, but I think back to all the effort I put into long distance just to keep someone waiting. Just to keep myself waiting. I’m still waiting I guess, just not on him. On something to get me out of the house, or better yet the country. You just go back to being the sole focus in your life. That’s nice. Not like a journal, social media, or a fucking blog aren’t vain enough already. Maybe I should learn from Hoda. I don’t know if she’s ever been in a relationship, but it’s safe to say she doesn’t spare any thoughts to getting a guy. Idk, I doubt there’s one correct way to deal with this. Still, if moving on means not caring then that definitely hasn’t happened yet.
It’s sort of winding down now. I don’t think about Adrian as often, and even when I do it’s not as emotional. I guess being redlisted was probably the universe looking out for me. The date (?) went really well. We sat at 30North together and then went to Diwan. I bought Persepolis off his recommendation, and he bought Gulliver’s Travels off mine. We decided to share a copy of Dumas’ The Black Tulip after I told him Dumas was actually a black man (mixed, wtv). After that we cruised in his car around Zayed with a j. I had a lot of fun save for the slight awkard question “Is this a date?” that I didn’t really get a solid answer on. Still, was a truly lovely time and I hope to do it again soon. He’s doing his week in geish right now, which is good for me so I don’t deep dive into this guy.
I’ve somehow regressed. I found out something I shouldn’t have and it hurt so deeply I was shocked I ever managed to feel like I’d made any progress. Well that’s not entirely true. I had an intimate moment with someone that led to an intimate night the next day. I want to tread carefully, my heart feels insanely fragile at the moment. It might be my period, which was supposed to hit a couple days ago but I was so stressed I probably made it late. In any case, I’m upset with myself. I can’t seem to manage a night without mulling over the same thought patterns over and over again. Even yesterday, we went to Diplo to get food and I walked into Diwan with Farida. All it took was 1 look at a Murakami book for the dam of emotions to break loose. I obviously ended up buying the book.
The only way I’ve been avoiding texting him near constantly is by screaming at myself Don’t be a simp.
I still fail sometimes, but it gets me through some useless instances. Hasn’t helped prevent any of the thirst trap posts though. However, it’s not like I’m still hypnotised into believing he’s the perfect one for me, but the door was left ajar in such a nice, hopeful way that it’s almost impossible for me not to fantasise about what a (distant) future run in might be like. There’s obviously going to be sex involved if neither of us are dating other people. Even this upcoming London trip, whenever it happens. What happens then? Will it just confuse my emotions all over again? Is it even worth it? His birthday is in a week. I feel so stupid.
At this point I’m starting to get angry that I’m not over him. I wake up and think about him, see something funny and think about him, buy a fucking book from Diwan because it makes me think about him. It’s ridiculous, especially when I know it’s not reciprocated. At least, not to the same extent. It’s been over 2 months. This time last year was when shit started going south too. I don’t know what to do or how to be
anymore. I spent so long in this relationship trying to figure out how to make it work و جيت على نفسي
in so many ways. Calling too often? I called less. Texting too often? I texted less. I was trimming my love from way before the break up apparently. I’m still having to do that now, even without the relationship.
Well, here we are. Shahbano gave me a reality check a few days ago, I needed it. It’s hard not to write negative things right now because of my feelings. His brithday was yesterday, I sent him a wish before noon and he called me at nearly 2AM to say thank you. He was with Mahik or however you spell her name. I’m pretty sure they’re either dating or about to start dating. It hurts, but it’s not surprising. Adrian never really knows how to be without a girl in his life. At the end of the day, though, I just want him to be happy. If he’s happy fucking around then by all means fuck around. It doesn’t feel sincere when I talk to him anymore.
Part of me is hoping not to see or hear from him, even when I visit London. I don’t know if it would be rude not to hit him up, but at least for now the red list has my back.
It’s now been over 3 months since Adrian and I broke up. I don’t wanna think about him anymore. I don’t wanna have anything to do with him take up space in my head. Sure, being mature is great. We said we’d be friends or homies or whatever the fuck, but that’s barely gone through. Getting my shit from him was a fucking nightmare. Knowing all the things I know about Mehak just bit me in the ass yesterday. Apparently she blocked me, I don’t know why it got so under my skin the way it did. I also went on his Soundcloud and found her as the cover for a song (remix) he posted yesterday. I feel like a rung in a never ending ladder. Adrian just moves on from one girl to another with no fucking sense. I unfollowed him again.
I honestly thought at this stage, me being over someone would be the end of it. I never thought Mehak would affect me in any way. a7a. It might be because I’m so strict with myself about not hating/blaming her for what happened. I don’t wanna be that kind of girl who just lashes out at women for men being cunts. But I guess not all women think that way. I don’t even understand why it was necessary or even a fucking passing thought to have to block me. I don’t want your man. He was mine for 2 years. Now all those memories feel tainted. I tried yesterday, after feeling like shit, to look at some good memories. To remind myself that it’s not all bad. But even that felt hollow. It’s not like in a movie where I rush to think he never loved me. I know he loved me, but I also know that Adrian doesn’t know how to be without a woman in his life. I just took up more space than usual for a while I guess. But now he’s got a new artsy brown girl with nice eyes. Figures.
I reached a boiling point. Ended up hurting my own feelings since I couldn’t let him know half the shit I’d known about. He turned the blocking thing around on me. We’re not friends anymore. I’m mad, but I don’t regret it. Life is so much better without him in all honesty, and clearly having him stay (even just barely) in my life was messing with my head. They think I was overly dramatic and petty, it’s annoying af to imagine them laughing at this together, thinking they’re so fucking mature. But I learned my lessons, I’m grateful for what I have and who I am. I don’t need a crutch anymore. No one’s fooled anyways.
The end.

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