It’s Sunday night and I’m feeling good. Is there any greater blessing for a young professional in London than that?

I did two gym classes on Saturday at Covent Garden Gymbox, first hatha yoga then dance, with a further two today at Stratford, ballet and rocket yoga.

Worked up a good sweat in both sets, and feel all the better for it. Exercise really is one of the best cures there is.

The two in Covent Garden I attended with my new friend Karly. Meeting through the Tuesday writing group we both attend, it feels so good to have someone so bright, brilliant and wonderful who understands that ‘writer’ mindset so accurately. We went to yoga, we went for juice, and then we went to the most refreshingly sweat-drenched dance class, full of charming and gorgeous gay guys. Yeah, we were a complete pair of basic bitches, but it just felt so good. Refreshingly simple as my social interactions go. But I have enough complications elsewhere in my life.

The truth is, I need some new friends.

The best opportunities and most fun in life come from the people we know. We may build the best of foundations ourselves, but our friends are the adornment which makes the flavour of life one to savour. Especially in a place as ironic as London, where are are crushed and surrounded by people every day and can still find ourselves terribly lonely.

Strangely, lonely was how I felt when I came home on Saturday. I had just had the most amazing time, but somehow it was like I crashed. I crashed, and there was nobody there to pick me up. I just lay there, blankly, feeling the anxiety and depression descend.  I don’t know why or where it came from, but it crippled me. I had writing to do and columns to pitch to editors, but I couldn’t. I could only lie there, absent-mindedly messaging men on dating apps.

I’m ashamed of myself in some ways for giving into that. I got angry at Tom for blanking me when I reached out to him for help. Then he told me that Jim had been fired on Friday, and I was snapped out of my depressive ring. I remembered how awful it was, the fear and the anxiety which was ten times worse than a blue afternoon. I only wanted to do everything I could to help him.

But I think it was also in that moment I realised that, though we may be best friends, Tom is no longer mine in the way he once was. Not in the way of spontaneous Saturday visits to Forbidden Planet and long hours of heartfelt talks. Not in the way of sleeping over at mine and hushed conversations under the covers. The desire to touch there but never acted on. Those things belong to Jim more than ever now, like his heart.

As I said, I need new friends. I think it will be a long time before someone lights in me that wonderful combination of friendship and desire which Tom did in me. But I need to let him go. Now, more than ever before, I need to let him go.

We’ve relied on each other over the past 2 years. There’s no-one in London that has helped me more. There is nobody in London I’ve loved more. But I need to forge on ahead with my own life’s path. I need to pursue the dreams and goals I’ve set for myself, find the love I want, without wasting time and energy on wondering why we’re not as close as we once were. On things as insignificant as an unanswered message or an unreturned phone call. I wish we could have known one another when we were both single and in the city. There are so many more adventures that we could have had together. Perhaps that is why we hold on and regret the way we do, love the way we do; we feel that there was more to say.

Because unlike the novels we love, our stories are never really finished.


One thought on “Stories with more to say

  1. London is really a lonely city even if you are surrounded by dozens of people. My boyfriend in London is the only one who supported me through bad times even though I hurt him and took him for granted. I owe him a lot.

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