Yesterday as I walked down the cobbled street in San Cristobal, I realised that BGC wasn’t reaching out to hold my hand like he normally does.
Instead of just grabbing his hand, I let mine hang limply as Nev set to work figuring out the situation.
BGC is a hand holding pro, so it’s very rare for us to walk side by side without holding hands.
My left hand felt heavier somehow. Out of place. Pissed off.
“This is it” Neville whispered. “We haven’t even reached 2 years and the romance is dead.”
If you’re new round here, Nev is my mind.
“All good things come to an end”
Nev mused. “Yes”, he agreed with himself, “magic can’t last forever. What – did you expect him to be madly in love with you forever, Andrea? You fool.”
I strode ahead, cold walls of “fuck you” assembling themselves around me with every independent stride.
BGC reached for my hand a bit further down the street, but I was too busy overanalysing to care. I wrenched my hand away at the first opportunity.
I considered what it would be like to be single again.
I paused to dwell on the dread of starting Tinder back up again.
I wondered if I’d need to move countries again.
I pondered about selling all my furniture again and becoming a full time digital nomad.
10 minutes later BGC caught up to me, striding ahead violently. “I’m not feeling too well”, he mumbled.
A lesson from my mind to yours: Don’t trust your Nev. He’s almost always wrong. And even when he’s right,
he’s still not helpful.
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