Jason loved my lips.
I know this because in one of my much-loved past times, “What’s your favourite…..” I once asked him what his favourite physical feature of mine was. “Lips,” he replied, not skipping a beat.
I was pretty chuffed with this. I was expecting the standard “eyes” answer (it wouldn’t have been chest area, alas) so to hear it was my mouth had me feeling all gooey. “Why?” I wanted to know.
He proceeded to tell me that he loved the way the bow of the upper wasn’t a bow at all; it was my Batman mark. While everyone else (well, the vast majority) has the standard two peaks, mine is more like a scribble mark. It makes you unique, he said. Only you would have fucked up lips.
During the long long long wait to see if we’d get on the flight to Lakla (still unable to confirm), I was inspecting myself in the mirror (not in a vain way I promise; more taking note of how much I’ve changed) when I clapped eyes on my lips. Instantly I was transported to memories of Jason.
And you know what? There was no sadness, no pang of longing. It was pure fondness for him, no more no less. I was astounded to realise he hadn’t entered my mind in a good few days.
How long does it take to get over someone? As one pretty prone to ignoring and blocking out emotions, for me sporadic sadness is usually the case following a break up. In the past partings have often been on my part so heartbreak has never been an experience I’ve encountered. Missing a previous partner and feeling a pang for them would come in waves, but that was as far as it went.
I said in a previous post how it doesn’t pain me to think of Jason to the same degree as it did a few months ago. I didn’t think the slightly sick feeling would ever fully go away though; I’d loved him, truly loved him with all I had. I might not have shown it to its extent or been the best girlfriend in the world, but he had my heart in his hands.
But it’s gone. I love him as a friend, no doubt about that; he is a fantastic, fantastic person. But when I think about him with someone else, it doesn’t elicit any agony or desolation. In fact, I think I’d even go so far to say I’d be happy for him to have a female who wasn’t me.
Isn’t that weird? The one you wanted to have forever, to have your life with, and you can truthfully say you’re on board with them moving on? Maybe if it was actually the case (or if it is and I come to learn about it) I would feel anguish and this spiel would be rendered irrelevant. But I sincerely think I’d be ok. A-ok in fact.
Josh and I just had a massive d&m about relationships, love and break ups (it’s just like being with Beaver, it has me overjoyed). It got me really considering how I’ve been when it comes to such matters and the lessons learnt.
I think I’m – wait for it – growing up and developing, oh what’s it called? Maturity.
I’ll always look at my lips and think of Jaas. But in upturned endearment, not downtrodden woe.