The One That Got Away

It was a summer day. There was a light breeze and the sky had a color so sharp, it could cut glass. You were wearing a colorful summer dress in a floral pattern. It heralded the warmth and everything living around us. The soft wind danced with your hair — as though it didn’t wanted to escape it. Everything wanted to be close to you. Even I. Then autumn came. And the idea of “we” deteriorated like the leaves on the trees.

This is how I remember her. The one that got away. My selective consciousness have dismissed all the bad memories of her. It has disregarded all her flaws. In my memory, she is perfect. But in my most secret dreams, her flaws haunts me.

Most of us have “her.” The one that got away. Chances are, you do too. Chances are, you are in a loving relationship but sometimes, after a fight or in intersections, when she’s cuddling in your armpit and your mind happens to wander, an intrusive thought barges in like a burglar, forcing you to imagine what might have been; it might last for seconds, but it’s still a day dream. It’s natural. Nothing to be ashamed of. That is, if you still long for her — if you didn’t settle for the one by your side.

How do we deal with this void? Because it is a void. Everything that has abruptly ended without closure, creates a void. Do you start to date? Do you indulge in casual sex? Do you drown your sorrows away, in a desperate attempt to flush out the pain? Because the pain will never completely vanish. Your memory can fool you. It can fabricate an image of her so perfect that it will haunt you, torment you, make you yearn to crawl back for her. If you drown yourself in the glossy images of your memory, you will never let it go. And you must let it go!

I’ve attempted to date multiple women at the same time — even married ones. I’ve attempted to drown my sorrows in booze. I’ve tried to fuck the memory away. In the heat of the moment, it’s a rush. My body takes over and my mind is buried in a sense of sexual numbness. But when it’s over, you realize you haven’t moved on. Not even remotely.

So what do you do from here? Here’s what. You book a ticket. Some place far away. Where the scenery is so different, it doesn’t remind you of her. Then, you walk aimlessly. Yes, you’ve seen it in the movies. The hero walks aimlessly in the streets in a state of despair, mourning his loss. You have to mourn. You dwell. You do some serious thinking! Dig deep. Question everything. Remember her flaws – focus on them. If you shift the focus to her perfume, then remember that a lot of women smell very nice. Question. And whatever you do, don’t be nostalgic. Nostalgia is a filter which creates a different past. What you remember, isn’t what happened. It’s your mind creating what you, in the heat of the moment, think what happened. And that memory, that emotional snapshot, is dominated by your current emotional state. Which is, let’s face it, unstable and melancholic.

The process here is grief. What you in fact are doing is reliving all the stages of mourning a loved one. Only the difference is, you are mourning the loss of the idea of what you and her might have had. And, after a considerable amount of time, you’ll experience a calm within in yourself you haven’t experienced before. And that calm, that inner calm, is what turns a man into a rock. The rock that other women want to find, explore, lean on to…

… and suddenly, before you know it, you’ll find someone who will not get away. At least, not until another autumn.