The Ex

I bumped into one of my ex’s yesterday on the way home. We had a pleasant chat, I’ve never split up from someone in a bitter way (yet!). I guess I’ve always come to realise that things aren’t working out and I’m not one for flogging a dead horse. Not that I jump ship at the first sign of trouble either. Most of my relationships have lasted a good few months at least. The shorter ones have always been genuine mistakes, where I’ve met someone on a night out, then the long term spark just isn’t there. What makes this ex a little unique is the age difference between us. When we met I was 19 and she was 33. I can’t say this was a plan on either of our parts; we met in a dark, loud nightclub. My friend went off with her friend and we were left to our own devices. As it happened we got on like a house on fire and chatted until dawn, before realising that there was an attraction there and kissing. Apart from the age difference, there were other complications: she was/is a vegan, whereas I am a confirmed carnivore. Whilst she held these beliefs strongly, she in no way judged or preached to others, but it always made for interesting moments when we met each others’ friends! We ended up going out together for two years, I was fairly mature for my age (probably from being an only child) and things were good for quite a while. The sex was amazing – the ideal combination probably, my youthful exuberance and stamina, her self confidence and willingness to experiment. It became apparent though that this was not really going to work long term; she had no desire to have children and the age difference was starting to tell. What really fast tracked our break up was my father getting ill and dying. I was living a few hundred miles away and the travel necessary was eating up my weekends. The real issue behind it was that she felt nothing for her father, and couldn’t understand why I would be so willing to give up all my time at weekends to see him, when there was nothing I could do to help. My father had cancer of the throat, and was unable to eat or speak for some time before he died. Quite often he was in a morphine stupor, and he basically withered away. We had some major rows about my visiting my father culminating in the day he died. We had travelled to see him, by now he was in a hospice and the time was measured in days. When I saw him I knew he didn’t have long left and told her that I was staying, she basically gave me a choice: her or my father. There was only ever going to be one winner that day, and I stayed while she went home. Later that night my father died, and I was glad I made that decision. We carried on for a few months, but it was clear that our relationship had changed irrevocably. We split and yesterday was the first day I’d seen her since. Which was a little spooky – it was the anniversary of my father’s death yesterday, and I had been thinking about her earlier. It was good to hear that she’s in a stable relationship and even acting as a step mum to her partner’s children, something she would never have contemplated back then. I was genuinely pleased that things had worked out for her and even more pleased with myself for having the courage of my convictions back then. I don’t doubt the relationship wouldn’t have lasted long term, and I have no regrets surrounding my father’s death. If only all major life decision turned out so well. It’s not the sort of mistake you can learn from, thankfully I got it right. Shit – didn’t mean for this to be a melancholy post, but I think there’s some positive in there somewhere!