Limbo

We met at university in February. He wore black, thick-rimmed glasses and in our very first conversation we bonded over a mutual love for the same local pub. As the weeks progressed, we'd linger on street corners after class to chat and chat and chat. We'd find any excuse to start a texting conversation. We spent a Friday night in the library together finishing off our assignments. We had rooftop pints and admired a rainbow. He met my housemates. I met his brother. But was it just friends?  

And then lockdown began. We'd text throughout our video classes. And we'd go for walks together after. Long walks, and he'd constantly astonish me with the same interests or ideas. We started a lift of 'things to do post-lockdown' featuring movies and places we wanted to share with each other. Surely, this wasn't just friends? 

Lockdown was lifted. We got drunk at his house. One thing led to another. He rocked up unannounced to my house with homemade brownies when I said I was stressed. 

And then we were plunged into lockdown again and our clashing insecurities surfaced. His fear of entering a relationship again. My fear of rejection once again. I became snappy on the phone. Argumentative. Frustrated. Unpleasant.

It felt like it was time to end things. Give up. I decided that he didn't want me, like I wanted him. So we met up for a walk. Masks on. It was awkward, at first. We sat on a bench, and I didn't think it was possible for his body to press any further away from me. But we talked. And laughed. And talked over the top of each other. In a good way. It felt normal again. 

And so we're back to lockdown walks and will just have to see what happens.  

Sorry that's such a cliffhanger to end with, but 2020 feels like limbo in every sense of the word.