After much arrangement, I finally decided to meet Owen for lunch on that early September day. He was there, sitting at the table scrolling the phone up and down in office clothing while I walked in, just like the last time we went on a date. The difference, the feeling for him wasn’t there anymore.
We caught up on each other’s life. With such big ego, of course he didn’t show what was really going on but his facial expression did indicate the downfall. Relationship clearly didn’t go as expected with the boy I caught getting intimate with him on the dance floor a few months ago while we were still dating.
“So you think I’m some sort of your last resort?”, I pushed.
“No. I was just not in the right state back then.” He then went on. “What I did was unfair to you,” Owen wasn’t even looking at me directly but to his tangled fingers instead. Guilt, it is, which was the main driving force, as I could see.
After much explanation from his side, I chose to forgive him. One, he seemed fucked up, which reminded me of Hanne’s troublesome ex boyfriend. Two, making peace and not having one more enemy is positive. Three, and also more importantly, I don’t really give much thoughts about him and what he did anymore. To me, Owen was just a short fling, a figure in my rearview mirror, unlike those past lovers whose photos I still kept in my wallet. He didn’t shape me.
“Apology accepted. From now on, we’re friends, you should try taking up cooking again since I know how much you like it. Spend some more time for yourself,” there came the preachy me.
“I’ll be your personal chef then,” he said, with a rare little smile during the whole conversation.
At the end, he also went on asking me, in such ambiguous language, if he would be able to take me back, which was something very undecent considering what happened and the context. I wanted to send him a big “You think?” with my facial expression but obviously empathy and social etiquette were still appropriately maintained as I only said I wasn’t available.
The encounter ended with him asking to give me a hug. I don’t feel like Owen had changed, he was still that cocky, high headed, righteous British boy with galant gesture in contrast and never really admitted his wrongdoings. However, I came for the food. Yes, I do appreciate free meals. And after all, I came because I wanted to say what I hadn’t had a chance to say straight to his face when he called it quit over text: that it was not proper to handle things in such inconvenient time and manner like that. And I finally did. The bonus is I also enjoyed the lunch itself.
And, upon hearing about Owen’s proposal, Fiji Bear’s text said: “Too late.”