There was this boy that I used to date. We were wrong for each other (I was particularly young, and demanding and pretty hot-headed at the time), which was fine. You learn about these things as time goes on. Our relationship ended, but we still remained friends. We even lived together post-relationship for a bit. Separate rooms, and all that. It was tough for a while, but you know, you work shit out.

We had the kind of post-relationship friendship where we’d sit down after work for a bit, and just chat about our days. It always turned into one of those great honest conversations, where you talk and exchange and discover new thoughts as time goes on with someone who knows you really well. And before we knew it the sun had gone down and we hadn’t even noticed. We talked openly, and it was nice that we could chat like that.

He was such a down to earth guy, who would buy books about places he wanted to go. And the three of us who lived in that flat got on so well! We’d all cook together, and go on walks and take photos together. We’d download tv and watch it all sprawled out in the lounge.

And then he moved to London, and I was horribly sad that he had. I knew it was good for him, and seeing me with another boy (The Boy, actually) wasn’t pleasant for him. But I missed him, I missed our conversations, and I missed not having him around.

He called me from Paris one night a couple weeks after he moved, while he was with a friend. They were on speaker phone, so I could hear them both. And they described what they could see (the people, the Eiffel Tower) and I was amazed. I wished I was there. Glad that he hadn’t forgotten me, glad that he was out there doing things with his life.

He would leave me random messages, and I’d laugh, and send something just as cute back. We were comfortable, as friends. Much more comfortable than when we’d been together. It’s like we let go of all our expectations and were happy just to be in each other’s company and accept each other as we were.

Now days I only talk to him occasionally online. And he’s getting married. At first that wigged me out a little – I was the one before, after all. Now I don’t mind so much, he loves his wife-to-be and I’m happy for him.

What wiggs me out instead is that he’s having his wedding in Hawaii, so the extended family can’t come. He has a wedding planner, and they have a website especially for their wedding.

There is nothing wrong with any of that, but it just makes him seem so different from the guy I knew. I shouldn’t be surprised, really. It’s been two and half years since he moved to London. I’ve changed, he’s changed. We’re doing new things with different people.

But I miss the old us. The sitting on the couch and talking all night. Looking through pictures of Melbourne and London together. I miss the friend I used to have.

I wonder if I went to London whether we could still have that kind of friendship. Or if he came home whether it would be the same.

Probably not. Still, I’m happy that for that short while, we had the friendship that we did. :)