Trying to Throw my Arms Around the World

Letting go

Letting go

I let Lou go that night. The funny thing was that I believed her when she said she would never have acted upon her feelings for Claire, while all I did, at the first hint of trouble, was rush down to Claire’s house to hide in her arms for as long as it took. My abrupt break-up with Lou didn’t so much shatter my faith in love as it obliterated my beliefs that I would ever be part of a happy, successful, long-term relationship. As I looked down on her, crouched next to me, her knees beginning to wobble because of the strenuous position they were forced in, I realised that Lou wasn’t the problem – not the biggest one anyway. I was my own worst enemy. I was in my late twenties and I had absolutely nothing to show for. Various one-night-stands, some brutal heart-break, a bit of betrayal here and there and a few revenge fucks thrown in for good measure, sure, all of that was present and accounted for in my life, but actual long-lasting love, the kind that seamlessly delivers you into a sturdy years-long affair, I didn’t have a clue what that felt like. Of course I was afraid of what actually taking this hurdle, of what actually committing to Lou would do to me, but more than that I felt unworthy. There I sat, Lou, the woman I loved, at my feet, begging for another chance, and all I could think was, you don’t want to be with me. Not really. Why else would you have developed feelings for someone else, even if deemed silly and foolish, so early on in this relationship? It’s not you. It’s all me. I’m not someone to go the distance with. I’m fun until I start fucking it up, until drama gets the better of me. So I let Lou go and then went and found myself a substitute, someone to take away the most immediate pain.

Lucy, who was still paired up with Joan, making them the most unlikely happy couple ever, introduced me to a freshly single accountant named Jill. She went about it very subtly, no doubt after having taken lessons from Joan. I met them at a West End pub the weekend after I let Lou walk out of my life.

“Jill, this is Lee, who just broke up with her girlfriend for reasons of betrayal and other issues I don’t understand,” Lucy said. “Lee, meet Jill, who split up from her partner of five years a few months ago and needs to be distracted. I don’t believe there could be a better moment in time for the two of you to meet, so Joan and I, with our big hearts and limitless compassion, set this up for you. Have fun.” Then they left.

“How awkward,” Jill said, visibly uncomfortable. She seemed a bit uptight, or maybe it was just nerves forcing her eyes to dart around skittishly, as if trying to avoid something.

“Drink?” I asked, not particularly interested, but not willing to let the opportunity slip away either.

“I’ll have an orange juice, please,” she said. Fuck, I thought, another one of Joan’s teetotallers.

“Oh no,” I said. “I’m not having that. How will you get drunk on that?”

“I won’t. That’s the point.”

“Why not?”

“I’m driving.”

“Fair enough.” I let my gaze dwell on her for a few seconds and I wondered what I was doing. This woman wasn’t Lou. She didn’t have Lou’s purposeful glance, nor her cushion-like lips. She didn’t speak with Lou’s suburban accent and didn’t wear her hair loose so it could always be played with. Sitting next to her, the possibility of something looming, made me miss Lou so achingly much, I almost ran out of there. But where to? So I stayed.

To be continued…