When she handed me her towel

When I first saw her, I didn’t fancy her. I don’t think I’ve got a type, but looking at my dating history, blue or green eyes, light hair colour, basically the opposite of me. I don’t think I fancied her either the second time I saw her, but, on the one hand, when I’m playing basketball, my head is on the game, and on the other hand, I do tend to get confused sometimes, and I’m not sure whether I like someone as a friend, or whether it’s something more.

Truth is, I probably did start fancying her that second time. I did had to wonder, right after practice, when we went to the changing room. We had just won a game, everyone was on a great mood, and we were about to go to the pub to celebrate. But then, when she asked me if I was going to shower, and I hesitated but seconds after accepted her offer to use her towel after her shower, I froze. It was the realisation of the wanting her towel, despite not having brought any clothes to change into. And then I said no, I didn’t need it after all. I did one of the things I do best then, I pushed away my thoughts before even letting them form fully into my head.

When we got to the pub, something odd happened: we went in together, ordered together, and sat next to each other. I can barely remember who else was there, although I remember some of the conversations that were going on – to be completely honest, I just wanted to talk to her. I did not think much about it then, I couldn’t – I was just in a bubble with her, only had eyes for her, only wanted to talk to her. We talked about our respective girlfriends – we were both in long-term relationships; she had an open, long-distance one, and I had been living with my girlfriend for over 5 years. I didn’t stay in the pub for long as we had friends coming over for dinner and everyone except me had arrived. Later on, she told me she left soon after I did; I guess I wasn’t the only one who had felt in a bubble.

One week later, we had another game. It was even more intense than the previous one, there was a lot of shouting, a lot of tension in the air. And a lot of confusion in my head, and for the first time, it got to me and affected my game. I couldn’t deny it any longer, it was obvious – I wanted her. And I wanted her to want me.

But I was committed to my girlfriend, even though things hadn’t been easy in the relationship, we were a pack. I couldn’t through it all out of the window for the someone who had just arrived, someone I barely knew.

And yet, that’s exactly what I did.

Addiction is a funny thing. You might not realise it, but it is always there in the day-to-day life of the addict. It tends to be somewhat easy to spot when it manifests in gambling, alcohol, or drug consumption. But if you get addicted to a person, you’re likely to just think you’re in love. You think that your compulsive and obsessive behaviour is okay, and it’s just because you feel so much for this person. You hope it will pass, sometimes, and that things will get stable, yet secretly you thrive on the chaos and mayhem you’re living, even when it is greatly affecting your well-being.

Over the following few months, we both rode on that dangerous rollercoaster, sometimes holding each other really close, feeling so happy we could not remember having ever felt sad or alone, and other times wishing the ride would suddenly or that we could just jump out of it while in motion, wishing we’d never see the other again.

When I did try to end things, she didn’t let me, and we stayed together despite having become more and more aware of our differences, and not even trying to work through our problems – we just looked away, getting lost in all that passion day after day. And then she decided to end things, and I did not object. It makes sense it happened this way, I am the addict after all, and while by then I was way more aware that this drug was slowly killing me, I was far from ready to let her go.

For the following weeks, she kept, unsurprisingly, messing with my head. Sending me mixed signals, making me doubt myself. After all, she didn’t end things because her feelings had changed – she confessed still having feelings for me, but the pain we were causing each other was too great. It’s much easier when you know the other person doesn’t love you, or loves someone else; I found it hard to move on knowing that I was not the only one thinking about us.

But I didn’t fight for her, I didn’t try to get her back. Partly because I’m proud, have a little bit of respect for myself, and I am just not one to try to get someone to take me back. I wonder if she expected me to do it, and how she would’ve responded, I honestly don’t know.

But what I know now is that despite all the suffering, all the tears, all the awful words said to each other, I am glad this happened, and even that it happened when it did, when I was at my most vulnerable. Because I’ve learnt and grown from the experience, and I know now what I definitely do not want in my future relationships: I don’t want the rush, I don’t want the passionate love story where problems get ignored under the bed whilst the two lovers warm up the bedsheets. I don’t want to lose myself again, risk my mental health, forget who I am, or stop doing the things I love. I am not ready yet to meet anyone else, but when I do, I know I want the opposite – someone secure, a relationship that isn’t healthy, someone who loves and respects me, and who is willing to sit down and work through our issues together, letting our love grow and get stronger. Someone who doesn’t play games, that cares for me, and that doesn’t judge me for my past mistakes. I know that that someone is out there, and I am going to take the time I need to get better so I can give them what they deserve because I’ve got a lot of love to give to them, a healthier and stable love that will feel less like an adventure, and more like coming home.