Yesterday he didn’t show up for lunch as we had planned. I was honest with myself and did not deny how disappointed, hurt and betrayed I felt (although I did not let him know). I thought about it on my way home. Why hadn’t he shown up, why hadn’t I received a message from him? I came up with the hypothesis that something that showed up with his girlfriend yet again which had stopped him from coming. I assumed something major had happened which had somehow gotten into his way of seeing me, yet again. Something out of his control.

Upon thinking this, I felt somewhat liberated. I felt like I could forgive him; why would be the point of being angry at him for something he did not ask for? No. My ideal self – the self I always try to be – would swallow down the bitterness of the situation and love, love more. So I told myself I would do that. If something had happened, I would make sure he would be okay. And that he wouldn’t have me to worry about on top of everything else. I would forgive him and move on, and things would return to normal. I had to move on from petty feelings.

Except nothing major had happened. He had only slept in. When he told me I got angry again, although over Facebook who can pick up on anger? I kept wondering, “how hard it is to put your alarm on?” and “how much does he want to see me if he sleeps through the alarm?” … So in the afternoon I went home, and took care of myself to release all my negativity, as I was going to see him that evening anyway.

It is so pleasant taking time to take care of one’s self. I worked out, which made me feel energised; already some tension was gone. I then had a long shower, washed my hair, scrubbed my face, shaved, applied hair treatment. I could focus on something different for a while; even something as superficial as my appearance. And the more beautiful I felt, the happier I felt, and the more excited I grew about seeing him. It was like my anger and hurt had gone down the drain with the shampoo and soap and water …

As soon as we saw each other at the event, we hugged. I wanted to be angry at him, and I wanted him to see how hurt I had been by his not turning up for lunch. But I couldn’t. I was too happy to see him that it seemed irrelevant to be angry. We sat side by side watching the circus. In the second half I even put my hand on his leg. When I did, we looked at each other, he covered my hand with his, and we smiled at each other. And my stomach did a flip.

I was so happy with myself for not having let the anger get the worst of me. Because after the circus, I went back to his place, and stayed the night there. And I had a great time: we laughed, we talked a lot, we kissed. And it was great, and I enjoyed it all, and in the end, I was glad that he had slept in, because after all, his well-being is very important, and I should aim to be less selfish, and more loving.

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