I’ve become a Swiftie. Or more accurately, I’ve been playing one Taylor Swift on repeat. Ad nauseam. Chris and I broke up some time ago–in spectacular fashion.And I’ve recently come across this song which perfectly encapsulates the entire saga of Eliza Marie and Chris.
‘You kept me like a secret and I kept you like an oath.’ That line of the song hits so hard, because I was 100% faithful to Chris and he wasn’t. Not just in the obvious way of starting to date someone else while we were still together, but in the less obvious ways of keeping all his secrets. For better or worse, I’m like a vault. Secrets go in, but I don’t let them out.
The reason all this is coming back up is I recently had a conversation with an old RT classmate– who I haven’t seen since graduation. I didn’t even bother to tell her that I’m now a physician–we were never really friends. At first it was surface level catching up–, where do/did you work, that kind of stuff. And it came out that we had worked at the same place at different times and therefore knew a lot of the same people.
“Oh so you probably know my ex then…” she mentioned casually.
‘Maybe. I really didn’t talk to a lot of people when I worked there. Just kind of went to work, did my job, and went home.
‘I bet you did though.His name is Chris. He was the medical director there. Although I wouldn’t necessarily say he’s my ex. We were more like fuckbuddies. I’d still be fucking him if I weren’t in the relationship I’m in now, because that man in bed–he’s something else.’ she chatted on…
It was at that moment I was grateful to be sitting down because I’m quite sure I would have fallen. As it was, I felt the blood drain from my face and then my face get hot. Images of the last time I saw him, standing there at the door in a t-shirt and boxers, green eyes fixed in an expression I’d never seen, hair ruffled, telling me ‘you need to leave. I have company’ flashed through my mind. I could barely manage to keep my composure but I managed to choke out “Oh that’s interesting, I always thought he was gay or bi’.
She prattled on about him definitely NOT being gay, but all I could think of was dancing in the kitchen with the oven light on with music playing lightly in the background or the weekend we spent in the mountains never leaving the converted carriage house except to forage for food. Blankets on the beach with only the stars for lights and salty kisses in the outdoor shower. Cozy conversations in front of the crackling fire. Tigs.
Inside I was breaking. Again.
And I remembered everything about our story all too well.
