“Can Bon Jovi die now? On his bed of roses, in a fucking hurry?”, mumbled my lovely friend Joanne a.k.a my Lonely Hearts Club partner yesterday eve prior shoving a piece of overpriced sea bass – or what ever the title of her fish – in her mouth. I laughed (a bit sourly, but I laughed): “Yes, Bon Jovi has got to die. Quick-sticks.”
Despite the fact that Valentine’s Day is nothing but one big commercial bullshit operation De Luxe, meant to keep the retail industry afloat instead of filling little hearts with love and affection, we both felt a bit miffed. Miffed because of being single at the age of 30+, miffed because of the disappointments with the opposite sex so far, and that that bumping into a decent guy who sticks around no matter seems to be more tricky than finding an honest politician.
Oh, to fill you in: Mr Insignificant Other shortly after m return from Australia to Cape Town decided to stay in Down Under for a couple of years instead of a couple of months – officially canning the plans we had for the future (marriage, kids, and eventually finding a house with a superb attic for me to write my stuff).
He made that decision without consulting or involving me while we are technically living together. Awesome. He told me about his new plans over the email. Awesome, part 2.
It is the 4th time he has changed his mind with regards to ‘us’ (I count 3 break ups from his side since we started dating half way through 2010). And I am done now – despite the fact that I do happen to love him. Fact of the matter is that I have ran out of ambition and energy to persuade him to believe in us and to come back to SA.
He after all changes his mind more often than I change my panties. I am too old and too young at the same time to sit around and wait until the midlife crisis subsides and until he changes his mind regarding his ‘Down Under decision’ and ‘us’ once more (which is likely to happen, looking at the past). I know from experience that he eventually will have a change of heart again. And again.
It has been difficult, of course. Hey, up until recently I thought he was The One as he made me believe that we were meant to be together forever and beyond.
Last year’s Valentines Day (we were broken up / break-up number 3) he rocked up with roses, begging me to take him back and swearing he had changed and promising that he would not rest until he had me back. I was adamant: No more of this shit. One month later, however, I got tired of his chasing me and decided to give it another go. I loved him, what can I say?
Everything seemed to fall into place and we were Happy as Larry. This convinced me that we were truly meant to be together, simply because we managed to overcome all the bullshit.
In the end, I think that he loved ‘the idea of me’ instead of ‘me’. Otherwise you would not be so cruel and clueless. If you truly love someone, you don’t nilly-willy change our mind like that and don’t move from “I want to have our baby” to “I never want to go that route”. I could be wrong.
What ever the deal is: some things are not meant to be – no matter how hard you try, how many grenades you catch and how much you bend over backwards. We live, we learn, and all that jazz.