He arrived with his van on time, loaded his things whilst we reminisced, held me close as he left, thanked me for the good times and wished me well for the future. It was a moment of closure and acceptance.
L. O. L.
He arrived late with his two friends who were horrendously hostile to me, with no van in sight. Apparently he had time to send me a color-coded spreadsheet, but couldn’t organise transport for his inventory.
At first he was jolly, then when it dawned on him I’d actually packed up his stuff and organised it all, he became tearful. He loaded up the cars with what he could whilst I sat quietly observing, then came back later, this time with a third friend in tow who looked MORTIFIED to be involved and kept apologising to me. I insisted they emptied the attic first (which I’d packed this morning) then left them to pack up his things in the summer house. By this point, I felt pretty intimidated - I was completely alone with four guys, two of which were hostile, one a total stranger, and the other my spurned ex - so I locked myself in the house whilst they dealt with the last of outside. I had no desire to watch 4 grown men dismantle Ikea tables and pack up children’s airplane kits.
Next thing I know, they’re all creeping out the back gate and drive off.
No “we’ve finished so we’re leaving” or “goodbye, here’s the property keys”, they just…left.
I’m startled. I didn’t expect politeness, sadness, or even emotion, but I did expect the courtesy of letting me know he was bloody leaving. I’ve now got to get the locksmith in tomorrow as he has a full set of keys. He hasn’t even left a forwarding address.
I’m just focusing on the positives; he’s out of the house, his stuff is cleared, and I’m now free.
I knew he’d be an emotionless pit, but I didn’t expect this.
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