I thought I was over him. I truly did. Honestly.
〉 I had my crush on No-Name, I was intrigued and interested. I kissed him and I liked it.
〉 I started dating the rugby player and was happy, excited – I was crushing on that one pretty hard. I compared so many things about the Rugby boy to Trouble and each time the Rugby boy came out on top. Obviously this meant I was over Trouble right? I was moving on – for sure.
Even the day after a great date (and steamy make out session) with the Rugby boy when I first saw Trouble, the day I got the apology I never expected, despite the chemistry and the initial happiness to see him, I still believed I had moved on.
Even after the wild night in Cardiff where we kissed, danced and partied the night away – I still drove back to London the next day truly feeling like I was ok, like I was over it, him, us. Obviously it was clear that something was still there between us – chemistry, electricity, something – but there wasn’t anything in me that wanted to be with him. He’d hurt me, and I was over it. I had something new in my life to focus on, something who hadn’t hurt me. Yet.
Even when I saw No-Name the other week for the first time since that didn’t go anywhere, a few glances were exchanged, a few hugs were had, I found myself interested. So, I’m definitely over Trouble – right?!
I have constantly told all my friends, colleagues, family, that i’m over him. That I don’t want to be with him. Again, another sure sign that I have moved on, right?!
So how come after the two-hour phone call the other night night I felt flat? Why now am I questioning the moving on process I had worked so hard to achieve.
It’s not true, is it. I’ve been pulling the wool over my own eyes. I haven’t moved on at all, have I?
distanced hearts club ♥