Lover has been on my mind so much lately.
After weeks of convincing myself he was worthless and not worth being upset over, not worth missing, I pretty much had myself convinced.
Today I was sure that I was going to see him. I knew it in my blood. When Emily suggested tonight that we go out, I hoped to see him, as much as I had a feeling I would, and therein lies the problem.
He was out with his friends, I was out with mine. We sat at tables opposite each other all night and I managed to only glance once or twice. I spent the night talking to a lovely guy. About Lover, of all things.
In fact I spent the night talking about him to anyone who would listen. I told Emily once we got home that it was a good thing I had seen him out. I didn't die, I didn't panic, and I didn't make an ass out of myself, I carried on with my night on the surface and looked to be having a great time. All I could think about was him.
Learning what I've learned in recent weeks, about the lies, the behaviour, the crap, the suspected drug use and confirmed suspicions, all I can think is that I miss him still. He wasn't the world's best boyfriend, not even close, and he is so full of charm that he doesn't have a whole lot that's real about him. And yet...
I tell my friends that I miss being a girlfriend, not that I miss being his girlfriend. The latter is the one that's true though. I really miss being his. I miss talking to him, I miss texting him, I miss curling up in the bed with him and passing out. I miss our silly little routine of going home with a take away and watching Come Dine With Me. Truth is, he is on my mind as much now as he was when we were together. Months apart, and still he is all I can see.
All the logic in the world says I am better off without him, and in my head, I know that to be a fact. He lied, he (probably) cheated, he made promises he had no intention of keeping, and he made up crap about me after we finished. And yet if he called me right now, I know I would pick up the phone and talk to him all night.
I really thought I would marry him.
Knowing what I know about him, I should never want to speak to him again. Truth is I'd still marry him tomorrow. Do I really think that little of myself? And why do I think so much of him?