Last night I was at home and ended up speaking to a guy I used to know on Facebook. This was a guy from school (not F) who I hadn't seen for years. About six months ago he asked me to lunch and I said yes but it started to feel very much like an actual "date" based on various things he said after he'd asked me - so I was deliberately very vague about things. He asked a few times and I fobbed him off as I just didn't feel ready. The last I heard from him was New Year, when he wished me a happy new year, but due to some stuff that happened with my ex on New Year's Eve and an email he sent me that broke me in pieces, I didn't even have the energy or motivation to reply, and I hadn't heard from him since.
I've always felt a bit guilty about this, like he was this perfectly nice guy who I'd been stringing along when really I'd had no intention of going for this lunch with him. So last night I saw he was online and decided to say hi and apologise for not being in touch. It turned out he is currently seeing a girl I go to pole dancing with . . . and he's pretty infatuated with her. So I've clearly missed my shot there, which is something I had always thought could happen.
Yet . . . it didn't bother me at all. I was actually happy for him. With us, the timing just wasn't right and even now it wouldn't be. We ended up talking about this girl and how much he liked her, and I ended up telling him how I thought I might always be single because I'm still too cut up over my ex and how everything ended to even CONSIDER getting into any sort of relationship. It was quite a cathartic conversation actually - it was almost like once we'd taken the possibility of going out off the table, we got a lot out of talking to one another. Well, I got a lot out of it anyway.
It seems like he really IS a nice guy, and I am keeping my fingers crossed that this relationship works out for him.
In the meantime, I'll just keep on trying to cope with the horrid realisation that my ex just still means waaayyyy too much to me for me to move on just yet . . .