My Life is Not a Romantic Comedy…

I returned from my trip a few days ago and am still processing everything. I will write a separate blog post about traveling solo because I think that is an interesting aspect of being single and something that more single people should explore – but alas, I figured I would close the loop on my fantasy of facing my ex vs the reality of facing him.

On the Thursday of my trip, I woke early and got dressed, curled my hair, did some make up and wore a cute outfit just so that he could bask in my cuteness and woefully regret his poor choices in life. When I checked in, he and his family had not yet checked in (the tickets were purchased on a single itinerary), so as the flight time came closer, I arrived to the gate and positioned myself well enough to see the full length of the terminal in my periphery. I opened my Kindle and (more or less pretended to) read a few pages of my book.

Still no Ex. Hmmm.

When boarding began, I checked my Facebook and saw that he had recently been online. Figures… running late… probably will be the last to board… So I boarded the plane and found my seat. Time passed… The door closed.

Still no Ex.

As much as I dreaded facing him again, I have to admit I was a little hurt in that moment. Did he buy a new set of tickets just to avoid seeing me again? Did he just miss the flight accidentally?

In spite of that, I pushed it out of my mind and had a fabulous trip. So fast forward to the morning of my return.

On my return I was considerably less concerned about seeing him. He had posted photos and video of his trip, so I knew he had somehow made it to his final destination – but I had concluded that he had likely decided the money to purchase new tickets was worth it just to avoid the stress of facing me. I dressed comfortably, put the minimum socially acceptable amount of effort into my appearance and headed out.

About 30 minutes before boarding was to begin I decided I was going to grab a bite to eat at a cafe inside the airport. As I was about to enter, my eyes scanned the small cafe and spotted his family in a corner table. Being somewhat surprised, though short of completely shocked, I quickly turned around and left without being seen. I returned to the gate area and hoped I would be able to board the plane without being seen, although I’m not sure what my plan was to entirely avoid them given that I had not even bothered to request my seat be moved since I wasn’t planning on them being there.

As I stood there waiting from my group to board, I allowed my eyes to scan the crowd. At that moment our eyes locked across the room and he looked as if he were going to cry. I didn’t allow his pained expression to cause me pause or another moment to pass before turning back toward the gate and walking onto the plane. I found my seat and got myself situated.

Perhaps he had requested a seat change.

The plane filled and finally him and his family boarded. His mother was assigned the window seat next to me, his and his son were the row behind. She asked him if he would prefer to switch with her and to my surprise he said he would. I unbuckled my seat belt and moved into the window seat. He laughed and said, “Oh you want the window?” to which I replied, “I think I deserve it.” and put my ear buds in.

We sat in silence, I watched the in flight movie and he watched something he had on his phone and dozed from time to time. Occasionally his leg would bump against mine; warm and comfortable and familiar, as if this was just another flight of the many trips we had taken together.

It was during this time I noticed that he was still wearing a bracelet I had given him as an anniversary gift. The bracelet is engraved with the coordinates of the house we shared (which is now my home alone) and on the inside is engraved, “Don’t Fuck It Up”, which was a joke between the two of us, as well as, a friendly reminder (which he apparently should have taken more seriously). The presence of that bracelet on his arm made me ache for him even more, but I continued to watch my movie and tried to not allow my mind to ask the question – why?

About half way through the flight I heard a loud snoring, assuming it was him, I turned and looked at him; at the same time he looked at me and we both started laughing. (The snoring was coming from his son in the seat behind us.) While we laughed he pulled me into his shoulder, kissed my forehead and grabbed my hand in his for a moment. In that moment of laughter it felt as if no time had passed. The familiarity of his laughter, the strength of his embrace, his hand in mine and the smell of his cologne; all felt like home. The electricity that danced between us was still there, as it always had been.

When the moment passed and the reality struck me again, I pulled my hand from his grasp and put my earbud back in, returning to my movie and trying not to acknowledge that that tiny moment had likely set me back again in my healing.

When the flight landed, he handed me my carry-on and I walked away. I didn’t say “Good-bye” to him or his family. I didn’t look back. I just couldn’t do it again.

Not knowing when or if I’ll ever see him again breaks my heart, but telling him Good-bye again would be too much.