Chapter 2 – Road Rage

We’ve all been there. Someone at the front of the queue of traffic is being a tad over-cautious, but you’re quite contentedly trundling along at a steady 50 in a 60 limit. It’s Friday, you’re on your way home, its sunny, the windows are wound down and there’s feel-good weekend music playing. It’s that rare half an hour where you feel somewhat at peace with the world.

Well this week, for me, that was short lived. A quick glance in the wing mirror (yes I do use them sometimes) showed me that someone had decided we weren’t moving fast enough. They had also decided that the other lane – usually designated for cars going in the other direction – should now become their own personal “I’m more important than the rest of you” lane.

So from 3 cars behind, with full beam headlights channelling the power of the sun into my rear view mirror, emerges a white beast – propelling itself forward past a number of cars before realising its error. There was no gap for it to pull back in to.

I’ve never been prouder of so many drivers at once for the solidarity shown that day. The oncoming bus had come to a complete stop, impeded by this now equally stationary moron. Before it has been forced to stop, it has surged past me and at least 10 other cars.

We’d all seen what happened. And we we’re all going to see justice served. As I passed with a smug look on my face (as i suspect my fellow comrades did also), I couldn’t help noticing the crestfallen panic on the chops of the lad sat beside me. Fourty-something with hair gel covering his bald patch and sunglasses now sliding visible down his increasingly sweaty nose, he knew what he had got himself into.

I like to think he was stuck there for hours. I’m confident he ended up a lot further back than where he started. I feel a bit sorry for the bus driver and his passengers, but sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

And yes, just in case you were in any doubt, of course it was an Audi.

Chapter 1 – The End

Well it certainly feels like the end. Whilst I don’t want to bring down the mood in the first chapter I have ever written, it seems only proper to start with the event that made me start writing, when for years I haven’t got past “thinking about doing it”.

I am sad. I am sad because my Fiancé is not my Fiancé anymore. And I don’t mean I am suddenly filled with regret that I have just bound myself to one person for the rest of my life in the most expensive way thinkable. I mean I have been informed by the person I love most in the world that the feeling is no longer mutual.

I’m given to understand that this is something which the vast majority of us experience at least once in our lives. It’s a time when we wish we weren’t afflicted with the burden of emotion. Yet ironically it is when emotion decides to wake from its “lets take it for granted” stupor and slap us repeatedly and unyieldingly around the face for a sustained amount of time. We also don’t know how to make this heart destroying pain stop. We sit and dwell on it, we try to distract ourselves from it and we try (and fail) to ignore it.

But we’re not the only ones who don’t know how to make it better. We talk to friends or family about it, then instantly regret it. This is because within seconds we have been bombarded with infuriating clichés like “its probably for the best”, whatever will be will be” and perhaps worst of all “everything happens for a reason”.

“NO!” You want to scream in their face, “what possible reason could there be for depriving me of this perfect person?! What could I have done in my past or present lives to deserve such debilitating and devastating pain!?” But you don’t, and that is because as much as you don’t want to hear it at the time, you know they’re trying to help. You know they’re trying to show you that they are there to offer their support through this horrendous time, and you know deep down that they are probably fucking right…

I implore you, don’t tell them they have no idea (9 times out of 10, they probably do), don’t push them away and, as much as possible, try not to punch them. You’re going to need them.

As I write, the passing of my relationship is just shy of a week old and being “over it” couldn’t feel further away. However in the last 24 hours, I have managed a full nights sleep & started eating again, I have also found myself able to concentrate sometimes. I don’t believe in karma or fate, but I still feel like I am being punished for some terrible mis-deed which I cant quite remember, but I am also starting to be grateful for the amazing times we had together.

Hollywood shows us that immediately before we die, our lives flash before our eyes. As a relationship dies, the reasons you were together, almost mockingly, do the same. But we shouldn’t be saddened by this, it’s a reminder of some incredible parts of our lives. I say this feels like the end, and it is, its the end of life as I know it. But all that means is the start of a life that I don’t know yet, which I should see as an opportunity to make the most of. Whilst I can’t see that yet and can’t comprehend the awful thing pulsating through me at the moment, I am beginning to realise that it’s probably for the best, whatever will be will be and everything happens for a reason.