Breaking The Ice

One of those nights when only the realisation that my tea has gone cold denotes the passing of time.

I feel as if I may have cheated you with the short excerpt from M’s life earlier.  I don’t have many details about the last episode that I can share, but I can give you some background.  M’s dalliance with her ex/fiance (from now on referred to as J) began around 4 years ago.

4 years of will they, won’t they, on again, off again.  4 years of tension, arguments, disagreements, alcohol and drugs.  4 years of emotional distress, fading self-confidence and a desperate desire to be loved.  Really LOVED. 

I’m lucky enough to have been truly, deeply loved once.  I’ve had songs written about me, notes left on my pillow, a whole catalogue of in-jokes.  I know what she wants, I understand what she craves.  J has no idea.  J is in his mid-thirties, unemployed, and living rent-free with a mate.  He has a child from a previous relationship whom he consistently ignores, forgets and avoids.  J has debts and drug issues and, as we’re discovering, a tendency to deal with issues using violence.

‘Use your words.’  Not something we should ever have to ask of grown men.

I know that love isn’t perfect.  The fantasy might involve white horses and gallant knights (or at least a steady income and GSOH) but in reality, love sometimes lives at home with its mother, changes its underwear once a week and carries the beginnings of a beer belly with pride.  I’m aware of all this, and aware that M needs to make her own choices (and mistakes), but a huge part of me wants to forbid her from going back to J.

Yes, that’s right – after all that’s happened, she still wants to be with him.  I think she sees his violent outburst as the declaration of undying love she’s been waiting so long for. 

I don’t want to begin to imagine what he might get her for Valentine’s.