Things I’ll never say

San and I were talking over the weekend, about diaries and life and I asked her if she still kept up with her own online diary. She said it hadn’t been written in for a while, because writing about things means she has to think about them and face them and bring them into the open and deal with them. And there were some things she just didn’t want to do that with. I didn’t press her on details. But sometimes I think I know, because there are things I’ll never say. Like when we spend time together it can feel just like back in the old days when we were still a couple – sometimes it’s better. We’ve both grown up a bit since the days of when I was living in Leicester and seeing her all the time, San has grown out of acting like a princess and maybe I’ve grown out of letting her be one. She also takes more of an interest in world events now – she’ll surprise me with it and I’ll ask her who she is and what she has she done with San.
And sometimes when we see a film together, or we go to see John Hegley together, and things are just good I’ll consider going back.

But you can’t ever go back. This is the girl who broke my heart one time too many –who told me she didn’t love me and couldn’t be with me on more than one occasion. If things feel good between us now, if there is perhaps something unspoken hanging in the air, it’s because we’re not together and there’s no need to know where things are going. There’s no need to feel anything, because we’re just friends now – even if I do still consider getting a flat with her if I get a permanent job in London.

I know we can’t be together, because even when we were together I think we were always both kind of, sort of, looking for someone better or something more. And I know now we still are. It wouldn’t be right to be with San if, like last night, a cute girl catches my eye across the bar, and I get embarrassed and smile and look away when she looks at me. If even if I didn’t act on it – didn’t get the chance to act on it – that doesn’t change the desire. And what about people like Deb, who every time she hugs me I don’t want to let her go and when she looks at me a certain way I just want to kiss her. Or Lyndsay – months now with no contact, but still a flame flickering somewhere in my mind, like the postcard I sent her from France comparing her to the morning sun on the Alps. All of these thoughts and feelings and desires would still be there.

And as I say, San broke my heart one time too many – there comes a time when you have to stop, and say to yourself that there is no guarantee the cycle won’t continue and she won’t do it again in a month, or six months’ time. I guess she knows this too, if it’s even something she thinks about.