I was rooting somewhere in the middle aisle in Aldi, you know the one with all the random stuff you definitely don’t need but will defo fire into your trolley anyway? With my phone in one hand, potentially a hamster cage in the other, I was trying to distract myself from checking the opened status of the last message I had sent him. I knew what the outcome would be, but yet here I was… again.
Did I really think this time would be any different? Frustrated, I wondered at which point I had presumed another night spent with him would equal a relationship, or even any type of progress. I also wondered why I was always so willing to skip back into his confusion as if I was lovingly carrying a basket of muffins. I knew I was always too quick to start designing my wedding dress anytime he sent me more than one heart-eye emoji.
By the time I reached the velvet stools, I caved. Checking my phone, I was right. There was no WhatsApp from him, no Snapchat. He had hit me with one message earlier that day to keep me sweet and then disappeared back into the abyss. I pondered when I would see him again, getting him out of the abyss wasn’t an easy job. I usually needed solid signs of me moving on, and this wasn’t an option at the moment in the middle of Aldi’s baking section. Also, I reckon the man standing beside me had a good 40 years of marriage behind him, bit rude of me to ask him for a quick sabotage Snapchat.
The romantic feelings had subsided by this stage, I was on the verge of stocking up on eggs and calling the gals for backup. The truth was, there was obviously always something appealing to him in that abyss… A pool? Games room? Jacuzzi? God knows, but he bloody loved it, and my god did I want to get in.
