Third Love

Two wrongs make a right. Three is a magic number. Third time lucky. 

The third love was different from the first or second

It was slow, unplanned, and easy. We fell into each other, into a routine, and into a life. Perhaps a life but perhaps more accurately an existence where we waited in limbo for the next step which seemed to be beyond many obstacles- finding the right place to buy, finding the dream job for me which would make me happier, being scared of communicating our wants explicitly for fear of what might happen. I wasn’t worried though, I was comfortable and most importantly I was happy. 

I knew I loved him fairly early on. He was respectful, kind and caring and I’d yet to experience this combination in such a pure form. I blossomed in his presence, and he stoked my dying embers of self belief and helped me to achieve more than I thought I could. It was the first time I could see that future I’d always dreamed of, but never admitted to anyone (not even him). I was older and more aware of what I wanted from my life, and with a differing sense of what would bring me true happiness. Yet I knew he’d be slower to admit it, so kept it to myself and waited for him to come to me. I waited until a warm evening in northern Spain to ask, without explicitly asking, and when he confirmed what I hoped would be true I felt like I was floating. The perfect adventure with my perfect partner was made even more perfect still. I’d found everything I’d always hoped for: the kindest individual, who saw beneath my demons and believed I could achieve all I’d hoped and dreamed of.

When he left 4 months later, in a realisation he’d made during the length of a morning shower, I realised I’d have to find new hopes and dreams. Hopes and dreams that focused on myself, that I could achieve on my own and that I wouldn’t have to rely on someone for. You can have everything you had ever wanted in your hands and then it can change, through no fault of your own, except that tiny part of you that isn’t what they envisage in a life partner- the part they ‘can’t put their finger on’ and what renders you for all intents and purposes unloveable. Different to the savage, sustained tearing of my previous loves, this one was almost surgical in its break. It was clean, sharp and quick. This will hopefully enable the healing to be a little quicker, yet I’ll always be aware of how easily anyone, at any time, can slice it again. Even by someone who I still genuinely believe to be the kindest soul on the planet. Remember, not even the Genie from Aladdin can make anyone fall in love with anyone else (that’s rule number two).

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