You remember that liberating message I finally got after a full week and one day? A message that by the way could not have been misread at all. Unless of course metaphors sound to you like peculiar riddles you should read literally: “No, why would I still have my green LED lights on, it’s daytime you silly and it’s been over a WEEK since you saw them on.”
Three months and two days after he texted me about the green light, I moved my colour coded book collection to his house where we wake up in love and fall asleep even more in love after yet another day spent in total awe of what’s happened to us lucky bastards.
We’re glad to be able to settle down now: our first weeks together I was catapulted back into being sixteen years old, limited to sleeping on shuffling airbeds and in extremely warm single beds in friends’ spare rooms and living rooms. When after about five lovely weeks I felt I’d spent enough time in the living space of others, I asked my ex-husband-to-be to move out of our common house so I could settle down again in the place I’d so grievously left behind. Camping out is more than nice but knowing how important privacy is, I more than granted my friends theirs.
When you’re forced to give up your marriage, one moment you will realise that all sorts of opportunities arise. I’m not thinking about that handsome neighbour (or maybe I was at the time), but about a silly little thing: giving my colourful religious ‘artwork’ (lol) the attention it deserves but obviously was not getting while stored away in a dull box at the back of a dull closet.
I overhauled the bedroom and turned it into mine. I got rid of any ex-partner-and-Kathleen vibes as well as new him-and-his-girlfriend souvenirs. Being extremely satisfied with the result, I loved spending most of my time at home in that room. The fact that, due to circumstances, the living room was filled with dull boxes also made me head upstairs anytime I could.
My boyfriend of 1.5 months would come and live there every other week -that doesn’t make you live together, or does it now? He’d see his -I forgot to tell you about them! He’s got three lovely kids which I got for free to do bonus mom things with like going to the beach (I must admit, a dog did urinate on the oldest boy’s T-shirt, but apart from that, great day!), making a huge mess in the kitchen to get rid of an excess in fruit (admittedly, his ten-year-old I prepared the jam with is so much into hazelnut spread that she didn’t even taste our apricot-peach jam, but she had a great time preparing it anyway), helping them with their homework (although their dad suspects them of playing dumb so as to get me to do their tasks) and carefully driving them around in daddy’s van (a task I have to perform while my driving skills are under great scrutiny as I get graded from being a 6/10 up to even a 1/10 driver, which is like a big fat F).
Even though it all felt like a holiday while we were first staying over at my friends’ places and next staying at my place every other week, it’s much more than summer love. The moment we could, my former partner and I traded places again: he moved into our house, and me and my books, pillows, duvet covers, cacti… in short: myself and at least four full vans took over my boyfriend’s place.
There’s no way I can fully express my joy over the fact that he happened to be at my friends’ place when I arrived there the night I left my home. Of course my gullible self did not for one second suspect his presence was anything but a coincidence. But it does not matter that my assumption was slightly wrong… sometimes you have to grab life by the horns.