Anna smiles at her audience. ‘Yes, by all means, go to that boring art gallery you hate with your partner but don’t start saying “we love art galleries” when that simply isn’t true. If he hates that dress you love, tough shit; wear it anyway. If she hates your taste in music, tough shit; play it anyway. Never sacrifice your joy to placate others and never expect someone to stop being themselves to appease you.’
I notice when Anna speaks, she doesn’t just command the room; she owns it. Every word flows effortlessly but sounds like it has been carefully chosen, just for you. The entire room hangs off every sentence like it’s being said by some mystical entity and not just a normal woman with an engaging accent and expensive shoes.
‘I want y’all to write down five things you’ll do differently in your new relationship,’ she requests. ‘For example, in the past, maybe you didn’t speak up enough. Maybe you didn’t ask for what you wanted in bed. Maybe you didn’t see your friends enough, you get the idea. BUT, as we’re manifesting, write them like they’re happening now. I see my friends regularly… I’m able to have open and honest discussions with my partner… I’m having the best, freakiest sex of my life!’
Everyone starts to giggle because now everyone is thinking about sex, and I don’t feel like the biggest pervert in the room anymore.Freakiest? Really, Anna?
‘Remember, do not write about what you won’t do! Positive statements only!’
I open my notepad and consider my own list. What would I do differently, apart from everything? Where even to begin?
As I think over the myriad mistakes I’ve made in past relationships, I wait for the soul-crushing burn that normally accompanies them, but it doesn’t come. The truth is, for a while I was happy with Charlie’s dad. I loved him with every inch of my being, and I don’t consider that to be a mistake. I didn’t know what was ahead, I just knew what was in front of me at that moment. There’s a difference between mistakes and regret, and I have to acknowledge that. It was not a mistake to love him. I just regret not knowing that I was worth more.
I find myself wanting to cuddle the girl who thought that settling for the worst was the best she could do. I want to tell the teenager who fought to be loved that she was picking the wrong battle and most of all, I want to forgive the woman who let her light go out. The familiar feeling of failure has been replaced by one of anticipation. I can’t change the past, but I can sure as hell ensure I don’t repeat it.
I smile and begin to write.
My Relationship.
Iwant to beAM loved by someone who is lucky to have me.
Icanalways speak my mind without fear of rejection or abandonment.
I have room in my heart for more than my child. She will never be loved any less.
My needs are just as important as anyone else’s.
I like who I am.when I am in love.
Pleased with my list, I sit patiently, swinging my leg, waiting for everyone else to finish. I try to sneak a peek at whatever Will is scribbling but he’s hiding it behind one arm like it’s a bloody school test. Does he think I’m going to copy him? I’m impressed that he’s doing the work instead of writing me silly notes or attempting to sleep with his eyes open. I hope he isn’t going to get all broody over his ex and announce that last night was a huge mistake. I mean, it probably was a huge mistake, I just don’t need to hear it.
I’m starting to wonder if meeting Will is just a way for me to experience a positive, purely physical relationship for the first time in my life. Maybe our spark isn’t anything other than sexual attraction and I’m overcomplicating things as usual?
Finally, Anna instructs us all to take our lists and venture outside, choosing a place to read them aloud to the universe while we take our coffee break.
‘You have set your intentions,’ she says. ‘Speak them, feel them and tune into their vibration.’
‘Ready for coffee?’ I ask Will, and he nods enthusiastically. ‘God yes, I’m running on empty.’
Five minutes later we sit at the back of the garden, far from everyone else and cursing Anna because it’s about five degrees and the temperature is still dropping. The coffee helps a little but we’re decidedly Baltic.
‘Want to head back in?’ Will asks, stamping his feet on the crunchy grass. ‘I didn’t sign up for hypothermia.’
‘You mean you don’t want to tell the universe about your list?’ I laugh as he makes a face, as I have no intention of reading mine out either. ‘I feel good about mine. It’s all empowering and positive. I’m like Beyoncé, if Beyoncé was Scottish and talentless.’
‘To be honest, there isn’t much to read,’ he admits. ‘I did take a stab at it, but I don’t know what I’d do differently.’
‘Oh, come on, no one’s perfect! Nothing you’d do differently to be happier?’
‘I was happy with Sabine. We didn’t split because there was anything wrong, we split because we wanted different things… oh, hang on, this is weird, isn’t it? Me talking about my wife after we just…’
What kind of name is Sabine anyway? French? German? I bet she’s beautiful. He acts like she’s beautiful.
‘It’s fine,’ I assure him. ‘Well, maybe a little weird but to be honest, there’s nothing about this week that’s normal.’
He smiles in agreement, sitting beside me on the bench, unaware that in my head, he’s currently yearning after some seven-foot French model with an adorable gap between both her front teeth and thighs. ‘I just don’t want you to get hurt,’ he confesses. ‘Maybe if we’d met in a different life, then…’
As his voice trails off, I place my hand on his knee and squeeze it gently. ‘Then we’d both be different people, Will. You are where you are, and I have no desire to be the person who makes your situation any more confusing. Look, we both want to be happy and neither of us are in a position to offer that.’
