As I mentioned yesterday, I met up with my ex while I was away. Looking back, the very short time we had together was probably one of the highlights of the whole trip for me (the other being the seven varieties of melon bread I sampled).
We’d arranged to meet at a train station close to where he now lived and about 50km from the hotel we were staying at. Considering that Master and I had spent the greater part of that day travelling back to Tokyo, I didn’t think Master would appreciate being dragged off on another multiple train journey in rush hour, so he stayed at the hotel recuperating and I went out alone with my boots & shiny thing glinting
Funnily enough, I didn’t actually mind the journey because part of it was a trip I used to do everyday when I lived in Yokohama, so the squishy peak-hour rush brought back memories. That was my first time doing it in stiletto-heeled boots though and I have to say, boots add another level of discomfort I’d never dreamed of.
So my ex picked me up from the station in a little blue car that he’d recently bought to take him to work. It was so not him. I guess forever in my mind he’ll be driving a red sports car and not some granny-like mini car (he had attempted to pimp it by installing some uber GPS navigation and tv in it though, so I guess the sports car blood is still running through his veins.)
I sat down in the passenger’s seat and he welcomed me back to Japan putting out his hand so I could shake it ‘like friends’ except when I did he covered his hand with mine saying how he had ‘missed my small hands’. Then we drove around looking for somewhere to have coffee and ended up in a restaurant chain we’d often frequented when we were together that is known for its all-you-can-eat fresh bread selection (unfortunately no melon bread, though).
So we sat and ate and talked. He filled me in – in great detail, I might add -about what the last 4 1/2 years had been like for him – painful, emotionally draining, life-changing – and I…well…I apologised and had a bit of a cry. He said he was sorry for ‘chasing me out of Japan’ and not sitting down to talk through things properly before I left. He said he regretted not trying to work things out before we got divorced and that he’d been churning over things in his mind ever since.
We didn’t really talk much about my side of things, which suited me just fine. He asked about my job and Perth and that was about the extent of it. Other than that we just talked about what had changed in Japan and what our trip had been like so far.
A couple of days before I’d had a bit of an extended conversation with him on the phone where I brought him up to speed on my family and he’d asked whether I was ‘still into the D/s stuff’. He seemed relieved when I said I was, as though as long as I’d broken up with him to follow my ‘truth path’ then it was all worthwhile. Nothing else was said or asked about it though and no comments were made on my shiny thing. My slut wear did get a ‘I can see your boob!’ comment from him though, that made me laugh and reminded me that although he’s nearly forty, he’s still a little boy at heart.
And because he didn’t bring up the topic, I decided to bite the bullet and ask about his fiance. I asked if he was marrying her because he loved her. He said no, but that they both enjoyed each other’s company and were getting older and it seemed like the right thing to do.
I thought it sounded like a very Japanese thing to do.
Then he handed me over some photos and letters I’d left behind and gave me an omamori charm he’d bought from his shrine to bring me happiness. It was nice.
All in all, we had about 1 1/2 hrs together before he had to head off to work. He dropped me back to the station saying we’d have to meet up again when we next came to Japan and that he’d try to get a day off so the four of us could meet and do some sight-seeing. Then he shook my hand again and we parted ways.
The whole thing had been incredibly strange and oh-so familiar all at the same time.
I do have to say that it gave me some closure though. I realised for the first time that I love him dearly as a friend, like my best friend, or a brother but that there is nothing else there. Neither of us could have given the other what they needed and therefore going our own separate ways was the best thing for us.
I think I’m ready to move on and I hope he can someday too.