Then, I Laughed
I know, I’ve written several pieces about my past failed relationship. It’s been a recurring theme in my other articles as well. Perhaps because painful things are easier to remember. Today, I want to share an encounter where I felt like I finally moved on from that relationship.
Although I previously mentioned feeling relieved when we broke up, I didn’t mention that I still felt quite upset in the two months following the breakup. I found myself wanting to contact him frequently, sending messages, and even asking him out for dinner. However, he either ignored my messages or replied with vague responses after a few days. He scoffed at the idea of having dinner together.
In the third month after our breakup, he suddenly reached out, asking if I wanted to have dinner together. At that moment, I had almost given up hope of ever meeting again and had accepted the reality of never seeing each other. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel excited. I readily agreed to have dinner with him that Saturday evening.
On Saturday, I started preparing early in the afternoon — showering, changing clothes, styling my hair, and applying perfume. After three months of not seeing each other, I felt a bit nervous.
I finished getting ready ahead of time and arrived at the restaurant an hour early, eagerly waiting for him.
The appointed time came, but he was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if he was playing a trick on me, or perhaps he was standing me up. After a while, I received a message from him, saying he was stuck in traffic. He continued to send me messages, updating me on his progress. I felt a mix of nerves and excitement as he neared.
When he finally arrived, I saw him getting out of the car through the restaurant window. Suddenly, I felt dizzy, nauseous, and extremely uncomfortable for no apparent reason. I even stood up, clutching my chest, and taking deep breaths. Why was I feeling this way? Wasn’t he the person I longed to see? After three months of waiting, why did I feel so uneasy? Was my unease due to nerves, or did his confident and aloof demeanor unsettle me?
After he came in, we exchanged polite greetings but didn’t engage in further conversation. The entire dinner was quiet. I hastily finished my meal, citing an urgent matter, and said a hurried goodbye. When we parted ways, I didn’t even look at him, just heard him saying something, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.
I walked far away, turning corner after corner, without looking back. It wasn’t out of spite; I just found it too difficult to even glance at him. I didn’t want to see him anymore.
I couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to look at the person I had longed to see. Actually, on the way, I thought about turning back for one last look. But my body was honest; I didn’t even want to turn my head.
Wasn’t he avoiding meeting me because he was afraid I would cling to him? Did I? No, I didn’t. I just wanted to see him one last time, even if just for a glance. After seeing him, all my clinginess and reluctance disappeared. With just one glance, I truly let go.
When I returned, I wandered around the park nearby, since I came back earlier than I had planned. Suddenly, a wave of laughter washed over me, and I couldn’t help but laugh like a fool in the park. It’s quite unlike me, who is usually shy, to laugh so openly despite the curious looks of others.
Finally, I caught sight of him, just once. Sending frequent messages and asking him out to dinner was all for that moment. It was a summary, an obsession. It was a review and affirmation of the love we once had, whether beautiful or bitter. I wanted to see him one last time because it proved that we had it before, we experienced it. I wanted to leave that relationship calmly, not in silence, not in confusion, carrying the resentment from the breakup for a lifetime.
That was my obsession, I had to see him. After seeing him, the obsession faded away. Yes, it was time for me to laugh.
