Don’t Call Me Maybe?

I don’t think I’m living the best version of my life. But every now and then something happens that reminds me that, if not the best, ther version I’m living is pretty bloody good. Certainly top-tier I’d guess, and a fuck tonne better than the one I had lined up a decade ago.

But there’s still things that suck. Work is still work, life happens, and breakups are very much still a thing.

It’s usually pretty civilised, a few times exhausting, and once or twice kind of bewildering. I used to say that I’m still friends with most of my exes, and that’s probably true on a purely numerical majority, but it glosses over the sizeable minority where, after the breakup we aren’t exactly antagonistic or anything, we just go out separate ways. Usually it’s with a spoken or unspoken understanding that we each would like some space before interacting again as friends. But those bits of space have a tendency to grow. The social awkwardness of not being the thing that you were before, making it easier to just leave something on the back burner until it quietly falls off the stove entirely.

It rarely takes me by surprise now, I’m getting better at recognising when things aren’t sustainable, or when someone isn’t satisfied with the way things are. It sucks but I guess it’s better than getting caught out of the blue right?

Except, every now and then, I’m wrong. And that’s fucking brilliant.