The longer you live in the past, the less future you have to enjoy...

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Only two weeks ago I was writing about my romantic disasters, my romantic future and how my time on the shelf had become the norm for me, rather than an occasional experience.

I revisited my past recently, very recently. The past weekend in Manchester. Over the past 10 months I had been in contact with an old flame, someone I met a long long time ago, 20 years or so and though the contact was benign and felt nice, it culminated in a reunion of sorts this past weekend. Awkward at first, it is amazing the power of alcohol has on awkwardness and a sense of shyness.  Two people, who were together for little under 2 years, broke up 21 years ago and ended up in bed again. I don't recall who initiated it, it doesn't matter, it felt nice and human nature leads us to doing things that feel nice, we forget the down side to doing things that open us up to hurt. The lesson is, scabs heal, and they may leave scars, small ones, but scars all the same. I have admitted on this blog many times that I am a dreadful romantic, a little naive, even at my age.  In the back of my head I wondered if two people, estranged for so long, could re-ignite whatever it was they had, with more life experience adding to the attraction. It didn't work out like that. Messages were exchanged, compliments given and taken and well wishes made but nothing could re-ignite that spark, no amount of hope and romance on my part and it proves that even at 46 I can learn a lesson. And the guy, he is lovely, he has grown and changed far more than I have, he is intelligent, warm and funny and the one thing he did, for 24 hours he made me remember my 24 year old self and it was nice!





September 20, 2016


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