I sometimes have too much time on my hands to think. And this weekend I've been wondering what guy in my life is "the one who got away". I spent ages thinking about this just this morning as I lay in bed trying to force myself to get up.
So . . .I think it was the guy who was the second guy I slept with. This was about seven years ago now - I can't believe it was that long ago! He was a friend first and foremost but we built up such a good relationship with each other. We would email back and forth all the time and the emails got flirtier and flirtier but I never saw anything in it because although I liked him and fancied him a wee bit, I knew he was in a relationship and nothing could ever happen.
But, somehow, it did.
I've never approved of cheating, don't get me wrong, and I don't really believe that because I'M not the one cheating that makes it right. But sometimes when you're stuck in that moment, when you REALLY like someone, it somehow just doesn't matter anymore. Does that excuse my actions? Not at all. I still judge myself for it.
We never spoke about his girlfriend. To his credit, he never told me he was unhappy with her or wanted to leave her, at least we avoided that cliché. Although mutual friends, who had worked out what was going on with us, had told me that he wasn't happy. So there was a tiny glimmer of optimism that me and him could actually work out beyond our little fling.
But it didn't. Things just didn't work out that way - circumstances beyond any of our control happened and they ended up closer than ever. Who's to say that wouldn't have happened anyway? Who's to say they weren't meant to be together all along? We won't ever know.
Sometimes though, I do think that if me and him had actually got together properly . . . that we would still be together now. Because there was a brief point when I was pretty sure he was the one.
I hadn't really thought about this in years and YEARS until just before Christmas. There was a night out and he ended up back at my flat afterwards (not like that. Mind OUT of the gutter please!). Long story which involves one of my friends getting ready here and leaving her keys here, one of my teammates getting so drunk she passed out in the street, me having to bring HER back to mine as she couldn't remember where she lived . . . and then my friend had came back to get her keys, bringing him with her as they were going in the same direction and planning on getting a taxi together. BECAUSE it was nearly Christmas AND a Saturday night it was hard to get a taxi so the three of us had hung out in the kitchen for a few hours while they waited, them drinking vodka pilfered from my drunken teammate, me imbibing cava.
It was weird to have him back in my flat seven years later. In completely different circumstances, him now married, with a kid. It was definitely odd. It was fun at the time though, but after they finally left, the memories came flooding back. The way it had started . . . completely out of nowhere. How devastated I had been when it ended. And I really had been because I'd been CONVINCED for that couple of months that we would ultimately end up together.
I'm over it obviously. It was YEARS ago. But sometimes . . . well, you can't help but wonder "what if?" can you?
Do you have a "one that got away"?