When I was seven, I had a friend that I had known all my life called Nazanin. We did everything together but then one day my family moved away. I was heart broken. It was my first cut and it felt deep. Despite moving, I called and thought about her most days.
A week after moving my mum had enough and told me to pull myself together. Mum talked to the new neighbours and found me new friends. I reluctantly obeyed mum and played with the new kids. The first day was tough. The kids were different. They made jokes I wasn’t familiar with. They liked different things to Nazanin. However, I went out and played each day.
One day I met Sarah. She was nice. She was like Nazanin. Sarah and I did everything together. A couple of years later when I met Nazanin again, I started to think she was like Sarah now and not vice versa. In the place in my heart that should have been filled with heartbreak for Nazanin was filled with love.
Nazanin was my first experience of letting go of something that I didn’t want to. After her I thought it would be easier to let go. However, when I had to move again and let go of Sarah I realised it wasn’t. The only difference was that after Nazanin knew what to do to be happy again: I had to meet new people, find another Sarah and later start to think Sarah resembles this person, rather than this person resembles Sarah. After all, there are millions of Nazanin and Sarah out there.
My mother taught me a great lesson: you sometimes can only take part of a journey with someone as your final destinations are different but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy your whole journey. Dating has a become a journey for me. I have great moments with everyone I meet, even if they are not the final destination. I only ask myself two questions after every date: are you enjoying the journey with XX? Are you still going the right direction? I care for nothing else for the time being. How could I? I am still in the process of crafting my final desitination.
By the second date I had decided that Mr England was part of the journey and not the entire destination. He had annoying habits that would make a even the smoothest journey ride riddled with nausea. He was extremely jealous. He called one of my best friends a loser as I chose to see him for lunch instead of him. I had forgiven his slip up after he apologised profusely. However, I started notice that his confidence had rapidly started to decrease. I started to not recognise him anymore. He required assurance more and more. It was draining.
15:24 ‘I hope you’re not as disappointed’
15:58 ‘are you still as keen?’
16:14 ‘is there still an spark?’
I tried to reassure him but I couldn’t carry him. I simply wasn’t strong enough. I had a choice: carry both of us and significantly increase chances of both of us getting eaten or throw the weak man into the paws of the lion. He wasn’t a warrior like me, he was going to get eaten anyway. Leaving people behind is always hard but once you know the process you just need to be strong enough to trigger it. The rest of the process is cyclical and comes on like a film strip ready to play out to the end. That was it. I opened the door and threw Mr England out. It wasn’t personal: it was natural selection.