Sven's life in Oz

The fundamental tenet of gravitational law and rollercoasters is that what goes up must come down. After a couple of months on a permanent high of excitement and denial I must inevitably come to the crashing-down-to-Earth-with-a-bang part of the ride and you, dear reader, will just have to suffer through it with me. Don’t look so worried: it’s only 500 words.

The cause is simple and didn’t we all see it coming? Rebound. I said I couldn’t help myself and despite all my best intentions I was right: it turns out there is no way to rebound without making things worse. Why break up with one person when you can do it three times in as many months and have each one feel as heart-wrenchingly awful as the first time? Perhaps I enjoy the pain. Whatever the reason, this week I have decided to do the sensible thing, take myself in hand (figuratively speaking) and straighten myself out (again, figuratively). The dates have got to go.

Three things made me realise this: the first was that things are just moving too fast, especially with the older of the two, who in other circumstances might be a serious contender for my affection. In the space of a few weeks I am virtually nine months down the relationship track and it’s not healthy at all. Of course, this makes it all the harder to cool things down because (a) I would really like to stay friends and maybe start again slower down the line, and (b) I’ve just carried over all the anguish from the break-up with James onto this new proto-relationship, so I’m going to have to live it all again. Oh, deep joy.

The second two happened at the same time and quite suddenly, making me feel awful, then even worse in less than 24 hours. I came to my senses and realise that I was just being terrible to James, who has been nothing but supportive to me, by not dealing with the break-up properly. I’m not one for prescribing respectful waiting times for relationships past, but in this case I’ve just been running after something else so I don’t have to deal with how sad I am, which can only end in disaster. Concomitantly, three dear and nameless friends – each in their own way – told me plainly to sort myself out, get some self-respect and stop acting crazy: no one was laughing, everyone was worried and people were getting hurt.

There’s no denying that I have been out of my mind since the break-up. I get busy when I don’t want to deal with things, and I haven’t been properly single for nearly a decade. Everything that has happened over the past few months has been wildly out of character and fantastically ill-advised. The best I can hope for now is some understanding dates who are happy to be friends, and some friends who are happy to stick with me, too. It’s time to take a deep breath, bite the bullet and take what’s coming.

This part sucks.