Sorry for the absence guys,
I suppose it was inevitable, my beau left and so I had to throw myself into something. That something, whether intentionally or not turned out to be my past. I turned, like many do, to the old days, the days when life was very carefree and I was, well young and naïve. That place was uni, university the place where you get educated not only in terms of schooling but in life.
Now I feel the need to clarify that uni was not all plain sailing for me. It was full of friends who became foes, grades that (occasionally) became fails and boys that turned out to be total assholes. Which I suppose is life but all of these events made for a time in my life that was fairly awesome. So when, on Saturday morning my friends Em and Luke decided to return to the place that had made the last three years of their lives, I was more than eager to join them.
We drove up like excitable little lambs, but it was exciting, exciting to see the world to which we had belonged a year after we’d left it. I was worried it would be nostalgic, sad even. I was worried that uni may have been the best time of my life.
My uni was beautiful, though it was not Oxford or Cambridge, to me it was perfection and boasted the kind of beauty that begs you to come back and take a little look before it takes your breath away once again.
Before we knew it, we were there, looking up at the gates that had housed many drunken nights and times that promise never to be forgotten. Walking around, the place hadn’t changed, it was still the same place that had excited me the first time I ever saw it. It was still the place in which I had grown but in other ways it was different. As we entered the quad, we were met by old friends, friends who were still living in the bubble.
It wasn’t long before we went back to the old bar that we’d loved and continued an old tradition within it, watching Eurovision surrounded by an endless supply of drinks. Only there was an end to drinks this year (we weren’t living on student loans anymore).
Just as I was starting to wish I’d never left, missing the old days and the old way, wishing I’d never loved and lost Liam but had instead stayed here and remained that same naïve fresher, I saw him. Not Liam. This him doesn’t deserve a mention but seeing as he played a fundamental role in my feelings as we drove away from uni I’m going to mention him.
An ex, the kind of ex that you beg the universe to never have to see again, the kind of ex who you can never look at and say “at least I learned”. No he was the kind of ex who taught me lessons I’d rather not know. He taught me one thing in particular, that men can be total ass-faces and that crying in front of someone who only wants to hurt you is the biggest mistake you’ll ever make.
Despite not wanting to see him, I said hello. I had to, it was my way of showing him that I had grown, that since the last time we’d seen each other I’d become someone new and had lost love’s far more worthy than him.
So the conversation went a little like this:
“Hey, good to see you (though it wasn’t). How have you been?” Fairly nice of me I think?
“Good (pout, pout).” That’s all he said and then he walked away. He walked away as though I had been the mean one in our relationship! What a loser.
Well, that was it I was ready to go before I knew it. Not because of him specifically but because I was done with that point in my life. I had grown up and whether or not I was on to bigger and better things, I felt and still feel happy to have moved on at all. I guess sometimes that’s the way we have to look at life and loss. I know that though those days at uni were amazing there are more amazing days to come and, strangely, I know that though Liam was a great love, there are more and greater one’s to come.
So my friends and I drove home. Far away from the place in which my 20s had begun. We drove all the way home singing Taylor Swift 22! lol Gosh, what losers we’ve become