I didn’t want a perfect weekend. I wanted one that didn’t wobble. We got that. Two nights, a small hotel that smelled like clean towels and old stone, a key that needed three tries, and us not pretending to be cooler than we are. I’m home and the house looks the same but feels shifted a fraction to the right.
On the train back she slept with her head half on my shoulder and half on the window. I did the statue thing so I wouldn’t ruin it. We walked too far, ate the thing with too much oil, queued for the view everyone queues for, and still had enough left for a late drink where she told me about the cousin who ran off to Berlin and came back with a dog and a lemon tattoo. I told her the story about my dad’s toolbox and the screw we still can’t identify. She laughed with her whole face and put her hand on my knee. My brain keeps replaying that. Not the monuments.
So yes, success. Not fireworks. Better. It felt normal. The kind of normal you do not name in case it runs off.
Today was the unpacking that isn’t just clothes. Receipts on the table. Half a bottle of hotel shampoo I didn’t mean to take. A text from Carmen at 09:12: “I’ve got your book.” Then, “Page folded. Sorry.” I said keep it. I wanted to say keep everything. I still said keep it.
There’s a version of me that comes back from a good weekend and starts making declarations. New man. New rules. Gym at dawn, salads, journaling, wisdom. I have tried that guy. He is exhausting. This time I did the washing, bought milk, answered the client who thinks EOD means “whenever I remember you exist.” Ticket stubs went in the drawer with batteries and takeout menus. I made dinner that did not try to be anything. Kept the day dull on purpose. Let the good thing be good without poking it.
What happens now is the tricky bit. It is not proposal season. No grand gestures. It is rhythm. The next coffee. A midweek walk. The choice between a film and a quiet pub. We pencilled Thursday for a nothing plan. Meet after work. No pressure to be sparkly. She said she would bring more lemon cousin stories. I said I would bring the toolbox. We both knew what that meant.
There is admin in romance no one mentions. The toothbrush question. The spare charger. Who texts first on Tuesday. Whether her cat hates me or is just a cat. I put a new toothbrush in the bathroom like a man who believes in infrastructure. I told myself it is for guests. I told myself several things today.
The part I am not trying to narrate is the fear. I liked feeling useful again. Not performing. Just useful. Carry the bag. Order the coffees. Find the platform. Stand over the street map like I know what I’m doing and then actually know. I liked catching her eye when a busker was too loud and we both did the tiny smile that says “yes, too loud” without being unkind. I liked how we got quietly good at crossing roads together. It sounds silly until you do it.
Work is still work. Rent is still rent. My knees still talk back on stairs. None of that changed because we had a good 48 hours. But the room really does feel a fraction to the right. My phone lights up and I do not wince. I plan Thursday and it does not feel like a negotiation with a ghost.
She asked on the train if I had told anyone. I said two people, and both said “nice one” like we scored in the 62nd minute. She told her sister, who said “about time.” I am choosing to hear support.
Next moves: Thursday. Then a Sunday where we stay put and still enjoy it. Then she meets one of my friends. Then I meet one of hers. I will try not to apologise for everything I was at twenty-five. We will see if the quiet holds.
I am not writing a movie here. I am writing a calendar. That is the win. I am tired in a good way. Sleep feels like a tool, not an escape. I put my bag away properly for once. I left the book spot on the sofa where she sat. I found her hair tie in my pocket and put it on the doorknob like a teenager. I may leave it there until it feels daft.
How do I feel? Lucky. Careful. Trying not to jinx it. Proud we did not fight about the right way to fold a map. Relieved I wasn’t a worse version of myself. Curious about Thursday. I do not need to make it bigger. I need to show up again like I did this weekend. On time. Kind. Hungry. Willing to walk.