July 30th 2018

Today Alice and I shared our last meal together — our last supper, if you want to be biblical about it. She moves out tomorrow. This break up has been rough, but we’re still civil with each other, in fact, we’re still normal with each other, and in many ways that makes the whole thing harder.

I came home from work, as I always have, and there she was, as she’s always been. Except today was different, because she’d packed her suitcase ready to move back to her parent’s house.

After a decade together, we were almost at the stage in our relationship when we were looking forward with excitement to a string of new ‘firsts’. Instead, we’re looking back at the lasts with a combined sense of regret, and longing.

I’m positive that this won’t be the last time we see each other, but tonight has had a weird sense of finality about it.

It’s the last time we’ll cook dinner together. The last time Alice will moan at me for using too much cheese. The last time we’ll set the table. The last time Alice will ask me “Will you get the drinks ready?”. And the last time Alice will have to make the drinks herself because I forgot. It’s the last time Alice will complain that I made dinner too spicy for her, and the last time I’ll put the washing up off until the morning because I’d rather spend my evening with her relaxing in front of a film. And, it’s the last time she’ll fall asleep while watching that film, despite insisting that she wouldn’t.

I will miss all of that horribly, and I’ll miss her even more. This is going to be so rough — it already is — but we both have to keep reminding ourselves that this is going to be for the best in the long term.

Until tomorrow, it just doesn’t feel like that right now.


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