Fragile

Sometimes coming out of a relationship can feel a little like coming back to life. My friends and colleagues welcomed me back, I tried a lot more to be a part of things. Attempting to immerse myself in plans and battle my way back to the happy, jovial person I enjoy. I mean, who doesn’t enjoy being happy and laughing and looking forward to spending time with friends? The only problem during this time was that any sense of happiness, of general relief was very fragile.

Luckily for me I had already felt the overwhelming relief that what Megan and I had was finally over. I didn’t want to waste anymore time on her, I was even beginning to realise the woman that I had loved for so long might not even have existed. It was one of those ‘lightbulb’ moments that had been a long time coming.

My friends were quite amusing during this time. Coming out with phrases such as ‘The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else…’ and all sorts. It was quite amusing and it wasn’t as scary as it could have been. I had been in this situation before. It felt a lot like deja-vu. I knew what had to be done, I needed to be social, make friends, maybe even date a little and more than anything, I needed to find a new place to live.

I got really lucky with my living arrangements, in no time at all I had made a couple of enquiries with a friend of mine and secured a sizeable room in a shared house in West London. I still live here so details will be vague on how wonderfully convenient it is. My parents were going to help me move my things out at the end of the month and I’d skip out on the last month of living in the apartment Megan and I had found together and enjoyed ever so briefly.

All I had to do was somehow run down that last month in the flat. Megan would come by when she knew I was at work and ransack the place, taking things she knew would inconvenience me. All the cooking utensils for example one time, then her TV with all of my leads for the Sky TV box and my playstation. I couldn’t care less about the TV, I had my own after all. It just felt like a vindictive move. When things of mine started to go missing I asked that she arrange to come by when we could both be there.

I had been right about her planning to make me into some sort of villain… Megan claimed that she feared for her safety and wouldn’t come to the flat while I was there or alone at all. That was going to be her excuse for coming by and taking stuff while I wasn’t there, I could deal with that. I wasn’t thrilled about it, but I could deal with it. I remember having a bit of a whinge about it to my parents and with my friends, but I got past it as best I could.

I started packing all my things up, after all I’d be moving out early as possible. To keep myself busy in the moments I had the flat to myself I started chatting to a couple of people online, I made plans to meet up with a friend that was on a training course in a nearby city, I saw my friends that I had neglected more often.

Things were still fragile, I remember having fun with a couple friends assembling flat-pack furniture one evening while we chattered away not realising how late it was getting or that her neighbours probably didn’t appreciate hammering after midnight, oops. It was a chance for me to moan and get it all off my chest, these were my friends that I had made when I first came to London, it felt good to have people I could turn too. I had introduced them both to Megan but I felt safe, like I didn’t have to worry about what I was saying with them. I could just get everything off my chest if I needed to.

It would be odd things that might set me off. Getting that email that claimed I was such a monster that Megan couldn’t be in the same place as me almost did it, the continual ransacking of the flat managed it once or twice. There were moments when I thought I could feel my blood boiling, yet I was coping. I’d have my moment when I would shout or just generally get angry and it would pass really quickly.

I was beyond relief when it came time to move out. My parents had helped me with many trips to and from the apartment and my new place, even cleaning the carpets before we left it almost completely bare. I had some large pieces of furniture to move so we’d used a van and it still took a couple trips. We left the large things that we couldn’t be bothered to move and one that Megan had wanted totalling up to some very heavy wardrobes, a couple of ikea sets of draws and the bed-frame.

It was a long day but when it was over I was finally able to wash my hands of it all. I would never have to see Megan again. I still trusted her just enough to make sure the final bills and rent would get paid with the money that I put into her account. I went to the letting agent and handed back my set of keys over a month early and signed some form to say the deposit could be handed over to Megan in full since her parents had loaned us that money.

All I had left to do was start living again. It wouldn’t be easy but I had done it before and I knew it could be fun. Perhaps it’d be easier this time since I’d done it before and lived through worse before, at least this time I had a nice place to live, friends and a great job. I had a fun few months in London the last time I was single, it was certainly full of adventure and many fun stories to tell at the pub. Before August was over I’d already managed to arrange to meet someone new and go for dinner or drinks one evening, it looked like I’d bounce back quicker than ever. I knew how to make London work for me. I’d do just that, again.