Denials Delusions and Conclusions

You are furthest from my mind when our favourite song comes on and an Issey Miyake walks by, when people use your catchphrases or I walk past mannequins wearing items I know would look more delectable on you. You are furthest from my mind when I type out another text for my draft box, never to be sent. I do not think of you when I look in the mirror alone, without you standing behind me, holding me, saying ‘we look picture perfect together’.

You were furthest from my mind when I accepted a date with Hakeem, new beginnings, moving on triumphantly I told myself. He picked me up, smelt nothing like you, it excited me. At dinner we did things you and I always struggled to- we conversed. Minds were exchanged, points of views appreciated even within wild counter proposals of the other’s theory. Talk did not focus on ‘my guy’, ‘he said …she saw…her ass…’ and all other talk that bored me beyond indignation. But even as I rejoiced in this moment, I longed for your hand to be the one that brushed past mine when I reached for the bread; for it to be our glasses that were raised at the table across from us in a toast to many more years together. You were not on my mind …ok maybe once, when the waiter took our orders, it reminded me of something, treacherous nostalgia as it was. I missed having your eyes search me as you tried to guess what wine I would prefer to accompany my meal, all the while holding a look on your face that was usually chased with flirtatious comments of your intent to make me pay later for ordering from the lobster side of the menu. You made me laugh.

But this dinner wasn’t about you, this was Hakeem's night. Yet even as I thought that, I knew I wouldn’t return here with any other but you. It’s not Hakeem’s fault, I should have told him I had too many fond memories with you in this place, that visiting it without you would feel like cheating. I thought I was beyond this, I needed to prove it. You were furthest from my mind before I met you and now, there seems to be no pushing you out of it. It’s not the obsessive or school girly crush of can't eat, sleep or breathe without you. It’s more of a knowledge, that you are to me like a part of my childhood that defines me, a part that I cannot choose to escape or indeed leave behind on a wish. You are still connected to that part of me that sleeps with the lights on, that runs into heavy rain with a playful smile on my face. I didn’t think of it as love when we were together and yet with us apart, I know I am not done with loving you. I have not started. The answer to the question - what does this mean, where do we go from here? - shouldn’t be so deep in my heart. It shouldn’t take others making up their minds and simultaneously mine for me. I feel I am still a child and I will not grow up to your song, not yet.