A year ago, on 27 September, my recent ex indicated (for the first time ever) that he felt off. Not from us, he insisted, but from his life. He couldn't describe beyond that. Previously (many many years ago) I'd had an ex who expressed something similar only to cheat on me so my radar kept warning me to be wary, to lookout and instead, I double downed on the empathy and care. 

I don't usually shit on my exes or make it a point to splash sordid details here but I also don't usually have a break-up sequel in the same year with the same person twice; unique problems require unique solutions. 

On 27th September, this year, I cut all ties with my recent ex. Favourite ex, nice guy, kind, puppy dog eyes— you get the drift. We had broken up earlier this year, and I'd pulled all the cords out. However, a combination of many reasons and matters of the heart compelled both of us to look at each other again, albeit differently. 

It also didn't help when we ran into each other on a weekday morning when neither of us expected anything of the sort. What followed were real feelings of care, trust and all that. I gave "friendship" a shot with my ex, going against my idea of working things out with someone I've been in love with. 

It was something that he had pushed for. It was something my closest friend had pushed for. Against everyone who had seen me cry, dip mentally, be upset about the course of events since 27 September last year, I went ahead and opened the channel of communication for us to talk. Naturally, things didn't flow. 

Until one day in August this year, when he came forth. Said the nicest, kindest, real words of affection. Said he's erasing boundaries between us and that there's hope, among other things. I saw the man I had briefly fallen in love with. It was everything and more, the words poured from both our sides, and while our understanding of friendship was very different, we were clear on our affection for one another. 

From that point onwards, his aim at sexualising the relationship was a part of our equation, and mine to de-escalate that was a promise at honouring the friendship. Both of us failed at it. 

My birthday rolled in and I had been a mess emotionally and physically. I was way too anxious, unprepared for my vacation. It did not help that he picked a fight with me over telling him that it was surprising he rememebered my birthday (he dislikes them) and that I don't hold the same space in his life (he had accused me of being sarcastic when I was honest). In addition, I shared a major life update with him, to which he had no reaction. He was cold-ish, unwelcoming of my presence for two days including my birthday. We warmed up by the end of the day because I made an effort, I apologised. I owned up. 

At 38,000 feet in the sky, on my birthday weekend, period and mood swings hit me hard and I decided to come clean to him. In vulnerability, I told him what he meant to me in terms of importance and how I would have just looked out for his wish in a sea of presents and everything else. A few hours after the landing, he hit me with a monosyllabic response and a hug emoji. That was it. All of my outpouring with one word and an emoji followed by it. 

Through the next 4-5 days, when I didn't hear much from him (except a tech support query- how to move WA widget tray for emojis). I realised he wasn't all that into me. I was clear— this is as good as over and I just had to call it out. I could have, alternatively, asked him where he stood with me, but his actions revealed his answer. I knew for a fact that this was long done, and we are conveniently tugging at heartstrings. 

I had prioritised resolving the work crisis in the short-term future, so my relationship (more like situationship, this time around) took a back seat for me. I was convinced this man and this crisis is not a priority to be picked right now, and when time comes around for us both (we had a lot of shit at work we were dealing with and I didn't want to push), I'll initiate the chat on where we stand and where to next. My friend had forewarned, "You better be the one to move on first because if that's him, you'll be fucked in the head."

I didn't pay any heed because, remember, my work, took priority, and I knew where I stood in his life (label friendship, and actions all over the place). And again, he was in a state of transition at work so it didn't seem like a good time to push him or me in that direction. 

The first week of return at home and at work hit me harder than a 30 kilograms checked-in luggage. Things at work were high-pressure and I was still recovering from jet lag. Nearing the weekend, and at this point we've not spoken for a while, I caved in and initiated a conversation. He was sweet, attentive, asked questions, remembered what was up in my life professionally as per our last conversation.

Everything was smooth. 

The next day, when my body and mind were protesting to take a break from overworking and underresting, I asked him if we could meet for coffee. He was allegedly at work at 10:30 pm and naturally, that wasn't going to be a plan that he could join in on. In anyway, he lacked spontaneity and I had known this would be a tough call.  

Saturday morning began with inquiry on why I wanted to meet for coffee. Realising clearly I didn't want to do a chat like this on call/text, I brushed off. In the same conversation, middle of what I think was flirting, he spat the cold truth— he is dating again— and apparently that changes nothing between us except the sticky stuff. 

For the first time, in a rather long time, I felt a rage familiar to the kind I'd felt when my previous partner(s) had cheated on me and I had found out. I realised I didn't want to carry out anything, no explanation, or question, no curiosity. Just wanted to bolt and leave the situation. 

I told him I can't do it and he tried to shortchange me with "Friendship" repeatedly. I had point-wise rebuttal for every line he threw (and there were not as many, except a fair amount of gaslighting and manipulation). All I could gather was, "I've a lot of feelings" and that I have "tried friendship". It did not work for me. For his sake and our sake, I gave it a shot and now I had to leave the space. 

The conversation ended abruptly. 

Last time, the breakup lasted 10 days in February and 2 continuous days in March. There were pleas, reminders, sweet-nothings, frustrations, affection; there was weight in it. This time, he had one foot out the door and had established that he's taking the other foot out of our intimacy. 

I don't need to be reminded twice where I'm not needed, so if the week leading to my birthday was any indication, I was fucking done. I was done when I wrote a heartfelt confession to him mid-journey in an aircraft and when I didn't hear back anything concrete. I was done when I realised I was never going to be it. He was always looking to bolt and infact had acted like a complete coward in leading me on days until he broke the news to me. 

 I was just the fallback convenience, a fact that my friends had individually told me over the course of a year and a half and I'd chosen to ignore them all. 

Love is so potent that it drives you to insanity. 

So, naturally, after the conversation ended, I did what any sane person would do— went to watch a movie alone. 

One Battle After Another at an IMAX near me. 

Two things hit me en route home after the film: one of the earliest memories I have of us talking and getting to know each other, he had texted me relentlessly throughout Killers of the Flower Moon (last Leonardo DiCaprio film) in 2023. I was flirting and giggling through the film in the theatre at an IMAX and texting him. My attention was largely on him and it was then I knew that a man compelling enough to draw my attention out of this film was going to be a permanent fixture in my life. 

During One Battle After Another, I had texted a close work colleague, my therapist for a slot and re-read our break-up sequel chat over a thousand times. I'm pretty sure the folks behind me could see the unhinged behaviour but I was out of fucks. 

The other thing that came out so clearly was the date. It was exactly a year since my relationship with him turned into relationshit and he had moved out of my orbit into god knows whosoever else's. I was sure he was not into me, but the crumbs, the sweet nothings sprinkled in pennies on the ground, had a chokehold on me that was hard to explain. 

I remember howling like a baby when the breakup went through on that day in March this year. I cried like I had never cried before and my life looked dark as hell. I don't even remember how did I go back home and how did I come to the office, but the folks at work could see something was wrong and asked me to take 10 days off to recover. 

I invested that time in myself and put my pieces together. 

This time again, I've to bring myself up again, but in a true sequel way, the road is set and I'm ready to rock and roll. 

This end-of-a-cycle with Leo's film and 27th September were incidental. I had anyway planned to watch the film alone at the same showtime and I had been thinking of telling him that there's a lot of water under the bridge. His disdain and lack of empathy towards the end reminded me why I should have never gone the friendship route and how, what I learnt at age 17 from Seventeen Magazine was the holy grail of all things relationship then and even now. 

I hope our paths may never cross and that I don't have to go through the misery he put me through with any man or woman ever again. 

Here's to being single for the second time after a break-up with the same man. 

Please embarrass me in person if you ever hear that I entertained a text from him, let alone allow him back in my life in any capacity.