Breaking the Mould

Rachel

Rain trickles down the back of my neck, soaking my work shirt as I slide my keys into the door. It’s Tuesday which means my best friend/ex boyfriend comes round to visit. I step into the flat and shake my hair out, shutting the door behind me. The rest of the afternoon did happen to drag out a lot longer than I thought it would. Tomorrow the action plan is to buy that long overdue fucking umbrella. I’m sick of looking like a drowned rat. No wonder I’m bloody single, I grumble to myself. I don’t know why I said that when I’m not even looking for anyone at the moment. I don’t want anyone. Well I do, but I’d never admit that out loud. I’m happy just being single. Though does it count as single if you still have feelings for someone you shouldn’t have?

I hear a soft meow by my ankles and look down. Both my kittens are nudging my feet looking for food so shrugging off my coat I scoop them up and head toward the kitchen to get them some dinner. I jab the light switch with my elbow and set the kittens down on the soft cream carpet. They automatically start biting and clawing at each other.

I sigh heavily. I hate coming home to an empty, silent flat. At least Robert will be over soon, I think to myself. I met Robert about six years ago when we were sixteen and we hit it off straight away. We dated all the way through sixth form and moved in together the first time round when we were eighteen. But when you’re as young as we were, as things do they go wrong quite quickly. People change I guess. Well, I didn’t really but Robert decided he hadn’t lived enough and met enough people, or rather, slept with enough people. I grew up quite quickly after that little episode and didn’t take anything for granted anymore.

Anyway, we struggled on for two more years then split amicably when we realised we actually wanted different things. However, with six years and supporting each other through family deaths, job changes and laughs it’s a little too much history to just erase, even if he did act like a total cock some of the time. So we still chat on the phone and exchange the occasional text, meeting up once a week for a good chat, dinner and a film. Ok so I still hold a teeny, tiny torch for him, but it’s not something that’s easy to chase away, nor is it something I want to keep holding, but you never forget your first love, do you? Okay maybe it’s not a torch, maybe it’s a candle. A birthday candle with a short burn life before all you have is a puddle of wax.

I know I’m being majorly manipulated by him – he has a girlfriend you see, but if I had a boyfriend then it would be an absolute scandal in his eyes. Robert doesn't function unless he’s in a relationship. If I suggested he and I got back together then he would tell me he wasn’t ready for that yet. Then proceed to jump into a full blown ‘I-love-you-after-three-days’ relationship with the next girl who was gullible enough to fall for the guff he spouts.

A lot of our mutual friends can’t understand why we’re not together considering how easily we work, but no one wants to be with someone just for the sake of familiarity. At least, I don’t. Much as I hate it I do still love him. I always have done and I always have been that sort of person where monogamy is actually my flaw. Not a flaw for most people but for me it was the chink in my armour. My Achilles Heel. My...well, you get the point.

We did have a ‘friends with benefits’ relationship up until recently but he’s just got together with a lovely girl named Lisa and so we just keep our relationship as best friends. I’m sure he has issues with that, but whilst he’s in a relationship it’s pretty much tough tit. Yes, that last little fact does make me slightly ill but there’s not much I can say or do about it, and I don’t plan on ruining a friendship by becoming a crazy bitch of an ex.

I tip the cat food into the bowls and set it down, receiving a grateful meow. I haven’t had my cats very long, but I swear they are the best way to calm someone down. It’s like they can sense your mood and paw at you and cuddle you appropriately. Oh God, my brother was right. I’m completely turning into the crazy cat lady. Flicking on the TV to get some noise in the flat and I start changing out of my wet work clothes and into a warm pair of jeans and a top. Flinging the wet trousers into the laundry basket in the corner of my bedroom I catch sight of myself in the mirror and sigh. I need to do something about that extra half a stone, I think to myself, pulling on a black long sleeve top. It’s not as if I’m grossly overweight, I just have a softening to the edges that I spent honing with karate. I had to give up after 11 years due to severe wear and tear. It’s a shame, and I miss it, but with walking home and everything it doesn't really matter as my arse still gets a damn good workout!