Do you remember the last time you saw the one that got away?
Were they walking away? Leaving you standing with your heart in your hands and wondering why they didn’t want to try anymore. Have you battled not to speak to them, not to get in contact, even though they’re kind of a cunt, mostly because they’ve got your sweatshirt and quite frankly that sweatshirt is your most prized possession, so you’re going to need to get it off them, see them, to get it off them at some point.
But if you saw them again, say at a mutual friend’s birthday, before you’re ready, would you manage to keep your cool, smile, say hello, and then get on with the rest of your evening? Or would you ignore them all night and then find an excuse so that the two of you could be the last to leave. You’d find a way to have one last drink together so that you could get the closure you’ve always wanted? Do you really think that one drink is going to be enough?
It probably would have been a pretty standard story, had we not been locked into the pub for six hours because some tosser in the pub down the road decided to hold thirty five people hostage. Thirty-five people hostage for fifty K. Can you imagine that? I think I’d at least demand a hundred, just for the effort. Anyway, If there’s one thing that’s going to make you forget any awkwardness with an ex-partner, it’s going to be the fear of a shooting just down the road, especially when you’re in the pub garden and not allowed inside. Right?