C'Mon, Would It Really Be So Bad?

Gone

That morning was perfect. Ed and I got dressed and went downstairs to join his family. We all ate a big home cooked breakfast and then gathered in the cozy living room in front of the fire place to open presents. I was curled up on Ed's lap most of the time, neither of us going very long at all without touching each other in at least some small way. A hand on the leg, an arm around the shoulders, a peck on the cheek.

Afterwards, Ed, Matt and I went outside to drink hot chocolate mixed with Goldschlager as we watched the snow continue to fall down on top of the already 3 or so inches on the ground. It was so pretty and peaceful.

But that somehow turned into a half drunken snowball fight like little kids, which turned into soaking wet and freezing clothes, which turned into Ed and I in the bathroom peeling each other's clothes off and having the best, hottest, steamiest, most passionate shower sex ever.

The rest of the night everyone just visited as we watched Christmas movies in our pajamas and ate our weight in cookies. Before Ed and I headed off to bed, Mrs. Sheeran made us pose for about 100 pictures, repeating over and over how happy she was that we were both there.

And then the next morning I woke up in an empty bed and to a present on the nightstand with a note from Ed that simply said "Sam."
It was a camera. And not just any camera. It was the best camera you could get, actually.

Excited, I immediately ran downstairs, looking for him. The house was unusually quiet, and when I found Mrs. Sheeran, she told me that Ed had left super late/early to catch a flight back to the states.

My stomach dropped. He had just left in the middle of the night (morning) without even saying goodbye. That was it? I had no idea where he was going or when - if - I would see him again. I checked my phone. No calls, no messages.

The more I thought about it, the more I got pissed. He basically came, took advantage of my vulnerable state, fucked me, and then left again. I mean, did I do something wrong? Was all of the stuff he said bullshit just so he could get in my pants?

Or did he change his mind about everything he said? Was he still pissed at me for what I did with his friend? He had made it seem like everything was fine now.

I felt like I was taking crazy pills. Was the whole thing just a dream? It had happened so fast. My head was spinning. I didn't know what to think. Were we getting back together now? Or were we still not talking? Was I supposed to call him? Or act like nothing happened?

Not being able to take it any longer, I did try to call him. But he didn't answer. He never returned my call, either. So I texted him.

- You didn't even say goodbye.

He took so long to answer back that I thought he might not at all. But finally, I got a reply.

- Sorry, didn't want to wake you.

- You could have told me you had a flight back that soon.

- I didn't see the point. I told you we should just sort of live in the moment.

- So...should I expect you to come by the next time you're in New York? I'm going back home tomorrow.

He stopped replying right away. I tried to tell myself maybe he got busy doing something. But his next text told me why he took forever to answer me.

- No...we aren't together, Sam.

Then another message came a couple of minutes later.

- I thought you understood that was all just for one night.

I couldn't believe what I had just read. I must have reread it 10 times to make sure I had read it right. What?!

He dropped everything and flew to London to be with me, told me he loved me, had sex with me, spent Christmas with me as part of his family, got me an amazing gift, and now it was over? It didn't mean or change anything? He was just going to act like none of it happened?

I snapped. I sent him a series of mean, hateful, hurtful, spiteful texts after that, none of which he answered. I also tried to call him on repeat about 8 times. The only thing I got in response was one text that said "stop."

I had no idea why he was being like this after the great time we had together in London. But all I could do was sit and wonder, because he wouldn't speak to me. And I had no choice but to move forward with what was going on in my life. Life wouldn't wait for him.

I went back to New York and I started working again at different odd jobs. I talked to my mom daily, making sure she was okay and promising to come visit her soon. My dad was okay for the moment, put on bed rest and being closely monitored by his girlfriend. He would have to change his diet and have regular check ups for a while, but he should be fine.

I was still pissed at him, but I did call him to make sure he was okay and tell him I would be there to help if he needed it. Our relationship was still rocky, but at least it was something. And I was so thankful he was going to be okay. He got lucky. We all did, really.

I started to settle into the new way of how things were going and kind of accepted the fact that this was just my life now. I mean realistically, what did I expect? My parents to stay together forever? To never have any health scares with them as they got older? To live happily ever after with my own Prince Charming? These things happened to everybody. I just needed to man up and deal. Things could be worse.

At least, that's what I was getting from therapy. I was proud of myself for stepping up and accepting things for what they were. Instead of just throwing a never ending pity party for myself and drowning in my sorrows every day.

Ed was still a sore subject. He always would be. Was I still crying over him every day and trying to plot how to get him back? No. But it still broke my heart every time I thought of the fact that he used to be my best friend, I had him as a significant other, and then I lost both.

Sometimes I had the thought in my mind that I was the only person in the entire world who believed he really was the one for me. He was it. He was my match. My other half. I had tried to go on dates or talk to other guys, but it just never worked. No one interested me. No one was him. Even if I hated him.

Even Ed's mom, who was our biggest fan, told me she was sorry things weren't going to work out and she had thought him coming to London at Christmas might change things. Even she had given up.

Being in therapy didn't really make me a cynical or pessimistic person, per se. It just made me more of a realist. I was okay with the fact that I believed Ed and I were meant to be together but weren't going to be. The same thing had happened with my parents in the end. Some people just don't get the happy ending they're supposed to. It was my problem to deal with and get over.

And I truly had started to believe that until fate crossed our paths yet again.