Well, the last few days have not exactly been smooth sailing. In fact the last few days have been more tangled and jagged than any I care to remember. Liam’s going. In a few days’ time he will fly out of my life and into whatever the next thing he is searching for may be. It’s no secret I didn’t take the news of him leaving well. How could I? I had figured we were in a place where I had every right to be informed of the decisions he was thinking of making before he made them. WRONG! Here’s a little lesson for the 20 something’s out there: When you’re in a relationship in your 20s it’s not marriage. Nowhere near it in fact and therefore your partner is free to do whatever it is they wish to, with or without your permission or knowledge.
Speaking to friends about my beau’s planned departure, however I got the sense that I could have been going too easy on him.
“What a dick! Like a proper huge dick” Em said, when I confessed to my roommates why I’d been in such a funk lately.
“I mean, I do the dip on girls I don’t care about this guy’s pretty harsh, if I do say so myself” said Steven, to my surprise. He’d done more insensitive things to girls than I could possibly count and here he was surprised and the insensitivity of my beau.
“Maybe, I overestimated how serious this relationship was. Maybe it was just a fling and if so he has every right to up and leave whenever he feels like, no?” I asked.
“NO!” said Em and Steven simultaneously.
And I’m starting to believe they’re right. I mean even if I wasn’t important enough to him to be told about him leaving before he bought the ticket, he knows how important he is to me and therefore should have shown a little consideration.
What a dick!
My phone had been singing for the past few days, with calls and texts and voicemails from the boy whose off to travel. I hadn’t spoken to him since leaving his house that day and, though I knew I had to make it right before he left, I felt it necessary to get out all of my anger and frustration before I did.
And then last night at around 12am he called. And I answered, not because I had figured out what I wanted to say to him but because I wanted to hear his voice, I missed him. So I answered.
“Hello” I said.
“What is this? Are you seriously planning on wasting our last few days together?” he asked, through clear frustration.
“I didn’t know these would be our last few days together until recently so I don’t know how I feel about it and, as you didn’t ask me I’m fairly certain you don’t care how I feel about it”. I said, allowing anger to come strolling into my voice.
“No, I don’t. I’m doing this because I need to do it. It wasn’t about us, or our relationship it was about the fact that I need to do something more. You understand that” he insisted.
I did. Recent events in my life had led to more uncertainty and confusion than ever before. In fact the only thing of which I had been certain was he and I. Now apparently that certainty was gone too. Maybe my real problem was I hated the fact that he was brave enough to take a risk and maybe get some answers while I was content to just keep trudging on. Or maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t offered to take me with him. I’m not sure if I’d have gone but it would have been nice to be asked.
The conversation ended with me making my way to his place. When I arrived we didn’t talk much, there was no amount of talking that could figure everything out in the space of one night. So we went to bed, huddling together for the time we had. And just as I was drifting to sleep I felt the need to tell him:
“I’m proud of you. I couldn’t do it”.
And I really was.
The 20 Somethings 