I Think He's Gone Weird
General I Think He's Gone Weird

“You just never know who you’ll meet or when you’ll meet him…”

I was a few days into heartache. Everything still felt raw as I tried to piece together the events that had led me here… to the ghosting. I was full to the brim with anger and hurt, and had pretty much convinced myself that I wasn’t destined to ever find a great guy. Saturday rolled around, many tears later, and I was spending the day analysing his story circle on Snapchat because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of actually opening his story. Plus, I knew there would be content there that I didn’t want or need to see in full.

The girls were all busy that night, so I was fully ready to spend the night being a lonely, blubbering mess. That was until my mum came to the rescue. “Come on, I’ll be your wing woman… we’re going out!” And that was that. I put my best bra on, Sally Hansen head to toe, squeezed my feet into my most uncomfortable high heels, caked my puffy, tear-soaked eyes in concealer and got glammed up for a night out with my mum.

The best part is, we went to a town neither of us had ever been to before. I think she was determined to do three things – 1) Make me laugh 2) Make me get off his social media pages , and 3) Prove to me that there was an entire world of amazing men that I was yet to meet. The entire journey down consisted of her telling me: “You just never know who you’ll meet or when you’ll meet him!” Hmmmm. Pretty hard to believe when I’ve just been ghosted by a fella who sent me a picture of his brekkie one morning and practically had a professional wedding shoot on his Insta story with another woman 12 hours later. How could I still believe in Prince Charming when I kept chasing men who were keeping me sweet with granola pics?

So anyway, after two cocktails, the clock striking 12, and enough “living my best life” stories to convince him that I hadn’t spent the day stewing in a pool of my own snot, I was ready for a battered sausage, bag of chips and my bed. I dragged my bitterness into the queue and waited to order. Some minutes later, I hated to admit it, but mum was right. I got chatting to the guy working there – Twenty-something, handsome, friendly, sometimes goes out in the same town as me… genuine? And just like that, in a new place, under bright lights, a bag of chips, and the pain of my doubtful heart, there was a certain magic about him. “Maybe I’ll see you out some night?” he said as I made my way to the door. “Yeah, hopefully!” I replied, meaning every word.

I almost went back, to this day my mum still thinks I should given him my number. I didn’t, and I haven’t ever seen him out, so maybe that magic wasn’t mine to know permanently, but I knew it for a moment. And in that moment, the Universe was only saying one thing: “You just never know who you’ll meet or when you’ll meet him!” And just like that, I unfollowed the heartache on Instagram, and I believed in Prince Charming again.

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