I just wanna wish you well...

I have a worry and my worry is this; yes, I know that I'm more than capable of moving on from The Boy (yes, him again, pipe down), the process is already in full swing, but I wonder; will there always be a tiny place in my heart that belongs to him and him alone? I feel there's a real possibility of that being the case.

There are times where all I want to do is share something with him, I laugh at some comment or story I am being told and his face pops into my head. *puff* And there he is. "Oh, The Boy would love this" I think "I must tell him!" and while I'm summing up whether I should send him a witty message there and then or wait until I see him in person, it suddenly dawns on me that, I won't see him in the flesh and we can't message each other anymore. This is the point when my eyes do that achey thing and my heart becomes heavier than an obese whale. I think about the last time we spoke and how horribly awkward and hurt I felt and I want to do a little cry. Of course, this is when my brain kicks in, mentally slaps me and forces his face to the back of my mind (bravo brain!). Which in itself is upsetting seeing as it's such a nice face. Bastard.

Yesterday I met up with a beyond wonderful tweeter who I shall call The Daddy One, and I shared a particularly humiliating "pillow talk" story that happened between me and The Boy. The Daddy One politely shared his own hilarious pillow talk story that rendered me speechless. No easy task. We both agreed his story made mine look completely normal. Well, we all talk about World War II post boom-chicka-wa-waaa, right? No? Well, now you've just made this awkward. I hope you're happy.

The Daddy One's story was witty. It was fun. And it was definitely worse than mine. *phew*

Two things immediately popped into my head; the first was how amazing it felt to find a boy who laughed at my awkwardness in a warm and friendly way. A boy to whom my quirky musings were a turn on and had lead him to present me with verbal grapes and flowers. Not many would have dealt with my incredibly unsexy pillow talk in such a comical manner. This is a rare trait and I have decided it is one I shall miss a great deal. Oh, here come those achey eyes again.

The second thing that came rushing to the front of my mind whilst listening to The Daddy One's story was how amusing The Boy would find it. Oh, how we will laugh at the realisation that I am not in fact the least sexy pillow talker in all the land. And then how he will mock me all over again for my WWII naked chit chat and then... Oh. Right. We don't talk anymore. That's the badger. How terribly annoying. Bugger.

The Boy and I have been playing this impossible back and forth game for so long and have built up such a bank of memories I worry that now it's all over, there will forever be times, when I'm not quick enough to stop myself, that my mind will leap frog to his face and a memory we have made. I'm not saying that I don't love the memories I have with this boy, this emotional fuck wit of a man (unintentionally, though it may be), far from it, but I wonder if there will ever be a time in my life when I don't think about him and sigh at what could have been if things were different.

They say you can't choose who you love, they have a point. I may still be hurting at his absence, but I know, or rather I hope that one day soon I'll be able to dedicate a rendition of Danke Schoen to him and I shall smile at what we once had. "Thank you for all the joy and pain..."

Now please excuse me while I eat my own body weight in pasta followed by a drowning of Nutella. Who says a broken heart can't be productive.