I was in the health food section of the supermarket examining some tinned vegetarian products made out of wheat gluten and preservatives and wondering why anyone in their right mind would eat them. It was late, I’d had a long day and tend to procrastinate and go off track at such times.
In a swift movement someone step-jumped around and in front of me. I dropped my jaw but somehow not the tin. An ex lover. But not just any ex lover. The ex lover. He pushed his “play dialogue” button and was off. Talking. And I felt compelled to talk back. And, oh boy, my heart was pounding in some anxiety reaction.
On the surface I was awkwardly holding a conversation with someone I hadn’t seen in years. Deep down (and to the trained observer) my body reactions were talking strongly to me. My hands vice gripped the shopping basket handle and held it as a barrier in front of me.
I don’t remember much of what was said. I was surprised at how he looked, talked, questioned, said it was good to see me, that he’d like to have coffee, at how he divulged details.
I wanted to press his “mute dialogue” button.
Did he always talk so much?
Was I really once obsessed by this man?
I’ve been back just over a week. One. Week. The Universe is sending me closure for that relationship. Or else it has a twisted sense of humour.
A telltale sign: I was only slightly dismayed that I was am looking like a zombie who hasn’t been eating well or getting much sleep, hasn’t done any exercise in two months, wearing the last of the clean clothes that don’t match or fit very well and have visible signs of hay fever.
I guess it’s a case of been there, done that.
And now I’m off to bed. I get the whole morning off tomorrow. Joy!