Seeing is believing...

I've always thought that the time comes to celebrate our mistakes in life; often our mistakes are what lead us to our destiny. This undoubtedly is only apparent during the later acts, but we can see how critical moments and events that we thought were earth-shatteringly awful at the time actually come to steer us in the direction that we need to go.

Last night I met with Duz for the first time since "the split", "the split" being my rather dramatic e-mail to him of a few weeks ago entitled "closure". He rather interestingly drew attention to my love of all things drama-laden by saying I had actually penned "closure!" I pointed out that the word "closure" needs no exclamation mark; the mere sight of the word would strike fear into the bravest of men. He fell silent. Motion carried.

Break-up assessment meetings are by nature the most volatile of beasts. You agree to turn up hoping that your partner's agenda and motives will be broadly similar to your own. Indeed, why else would you both be there? Why take time out to discuss at length something that was ebbing away silently without you both deciding to prod and poke, unless you think there may be life left there after all...

And so I sat and waited for him to arrive. He is not the sort to take time out, to drive over on the eve of most probably losing his licence (101mph on the motorway.....court tomorrow) unless there are matters of great significance to discuss.

I was right. I usually am, but rarely for the reasons I thought I would be.

My opening gambit in any type of "drains up" discussion is always "so, what happened here?" It is masterful in it's simplicity. It implies a yearning desire to get to the root of the calamity, it resonates with importance and it sounds vaguely like it was uttered on Hill Street Blues, which is undoubtedly why I've retained it for regular usage.

He shook his head, closed his eyes. "I'm not sure. I know only part of it". Time to outline that part, I think.

To say I was in shock following his account would be totally inadequate. He cited all the feelings, all the thoughts and all the fears I had experienced during my time with him.

It was as if he had reached inside my mind and stolen my thoughts, my fears, my paranoid tendencies. How can we mirror fear like that in relationships? How did I not see it happening? Because we never acknowledged it.

We never verbalised any of it at the time that it really mattered, before it was possibly too late. I tried to point out to him that the last time we met I had driven over to see him in a last-ditch attempt to resuscitate what we had. I reminded him of a glib comment he made, "don't give up the the tenancy on your house anytime soon". He couldn't remember saying it, but I remember the hurt it generated all too well.

He described me last night as "cool, together, guarded". Of course, this is an alien concept to me as I sit and type this post, but I know that is the image I have strived so hard to craft over the years. Never the push-over, a resilient survivor who barely feels hurt at times of relationship crisis. A victim of my own success, it seems; I actually managed to fool someone who was meant to see past that persona.

We stayed up til late talking. He needs time to get his head around what was said as he had come to terms with the fact that it was all over, that I had moved on (I play my part to perfection, it seems)

Duz looked very fragile and strangely smaller last night. And vulnerable too; that most attractive of qualities when displayed in the right amount and at the right time.

The waiting line beckons, I think.

relationships