Break ups always sting in one way or another. Whether it's your first love or someone you have spent decades with, you're losing something that was a significant part of you and it's inevitably sad. Even when it's the right decision. I dedicated almost all of my twenties to my fiancΓ© and now it was over. We were both to blame and yet as we called it quits neither of us were mad. We were just sad. We tried and we failed.
I don't know if my heart was quite broken. We had been on the ropes for a while so that final conversation pulling the plug was little more than a formality. I had probably already accepted we were done and started the process of healing but it was still emotional to say goodbye and know it was over.
Maybe it hurt more because I was 29 years old at the time. We had been engaged for two years and trying for a baby for even longer than that and it just didn't happen. At least we weren't married so we didn't have to deal with a divorce. But there was a certain ache in my heart knowing I was going to have to start again and go through the ups and downs of a relationship all while knowing I was being chased down by the biological clock. I wanted to have kids and it was only going to get more difficult.
I was enjoying a weekend long rotting session when mum decided to stop by to try and drag me out of the mud. I must have looked awful with my eyes red and puffy from crying. My hair was a mess and I was barely sleeping but mum always knew how to make me feel better when I was at my lowest. I felt like we were good at doing that for each other.
I love my mum so much. Her name's Colleen and she's 53 years old, but she was fifty at the time of my breakup. She works for an electronics company running the phones, though she was a stay at home mum for the first 15 years of my life. She was always such an open and honest and cheery person, insisting that me and my younger brother seek out what makes us happy and try to experience life and love in the most passionate ways we could. Her and dad engaged in way too many public displays of affection but her openness about sex and relationships were so helpful to me as I grew into my own sexuality.
There's also an illicit history between mum and I which plays into what happened on that night a few years ago, so I should tell you all about that and set the scene. Funnily enough, the events of ten years prior followed a break up as well.
Mum and dad's divorce announcement surprised everyone. It seemed like they were still as in love as they had ever been and then overnight they were done. My brother and I used to wonder if one of them cheated but they chose not to tell us so we wouldn't think badly of that person, but the truth is that they just fell out of love. Something I couldn't truly understand all that well until it happened to me.
Mum was definitely heartbroken back then. I was 19 at the time and we were best friends. Mum had no sisters, my grandma lived on another continent and my brother couldn't help like I could so I took centre stage in her recovery and barely left her side. We had girls' night after girls' night watching movies and doing each other's hair. My only goal was to help and rebuild her confidence but along the way the most incredible thing happened. I started to develop feelings for her. It's hard to explain and after our short fling I spent a decade wondering how it all came to be but the truth is that it's difficult to explain why you felt something, but the feelings are there all the same. I just loved her and I wanted to be there for her and after she spent my whole life deifying love as the centre of the universe I suppose she inadvertently centred herself as the person most worth loving.
Now that word I used -- fling -- it probably comes with high expectations, but the truth is we only ever kissed and we only did it three times. I suppose the truth is she only kissed me. I did other things, minor things, but they didn't push mum any closer to jumping into bed with me.
The first kiss happened a few months after the break up. She had more good nights than bad ones by that point, but she had an argument earlier that day with dad that set her back a little bit and she was more emotional. Over the course of a few hours I put a smile back on her face but in doing so I made her cry again, this time because she loved me so much and she couldn't believe how good I was being to her. I told her that I was only giving to her what she had given to me for my entire life. I ended up holding her head tight to my chest and kissing her head. She told me she could hear my heart and that completely innocent line set me off. I moved my kisses to her cheek and told her she was the best mum in the world and about how much me and my brother loved her and each time I pecked her cheek she smiled more until I planted my lips on hers.
She didn't push me off or recoil in horror so I kept kissing her. It wasn't frantic or sloppy or anything like that. It probably lasted about two minutes. Just slow and delicate kisses but the feeling of her soft lips on mine was enough to fill my heart forever. I remember she was wearing a nightie that evening and towards the end of the kiss I moved my hand down and placed it on her thigh. I tickled the skin ever so slightly for a moment before she pulled back and fell back into the couch. I could have kissed her again but I didn't. I hesitated too long and broke the silence with an apology. She told me it was fine and that she loved me too and I was the best daughter she could have ever asked for. I didn't know what to do afterwards so we sat silently and watched the television.
A few days later we had our second kiss. After the first I didn't think there would be a second. We spent a bit of time apart but she had a bad day and asked me to come around and watch a movie. I was paying for university halls at the time but spending so much time at home to be with her. We didn't talk about the kiss but I convinced myself her cuddles were more affectionate than usual and her hand was higher up my stomach than usual. A few more inches and it felt like she might be able to give one of my boobs a squeeze. I ended up rolling onto my side to cling to her a little more, looking up at her every so often to see if she was taking notice of my closeness. When she tilted her head downwards at one point our eyes lingered on each other a second too long for me and I kissed her again.
This kiss was a little faster and noisier and wetter. We had survived the first so what could stop us now? I pushed my tongue into her mouth and they danced together for a short while. I lifted a leg over her waist and almost straddled her, pushing her down into the couch as I really tried to show her how much I wanted this. I felt her hands on my hips and grinded gently into her crotch. I think it lasted a good five minutes all told but she slowed down and I didn't want to force anything too quickly so I matched her pace until it came to a stilted end. There were a few more pecks and still no talk of what we were actually doing and then there was nothing but hopes of a third kiss.
That third kiss came about a week later. It was the most inevitable kiss of my life. Things with mum seemed different that night. We actually got dressed up and went out. She looked incredible in a mid-thigh black dress and was so complimentary of my own mini skirt and crop top look. She was 40 years old then and my biggest crush and for someone who had never been with a girl and didn't have any previous incestuous feelings it was all so much but the energy between us that night was off the charts. There were so many times it felt like we were a moment away from making out in public, and in the taxi home even just the feeling of our legs pressed together was making me warm. I couldn't wait to kiss her again. I knew it was coming and that I would make the next move.
It happened in the bathroom. I was a bit drunk so I don't remember it perfectly but I made the move and we kissed passionately. It was everything our second kiss was and more. Our bodies were pressed together tightly and I backed her into the sink, her arse resting against the porcelain. We kissed excitedly as if we both spent the whole night waiting for this moment. I made my move, reaching for the sides of her dress and pulling it up and over her bum where it tightened around her wider hips. I felt the fabric of her knickers when my hands slid back down, and then she stopped me. We were on the verge of a breakthrough, but she took my hands and slowed me down, bringing the kiss to what felt like a premature end.
Nothing happened after that night. We never really talked about it either and we clearly should have. I took a step back at the time and waited to see if she would make the next move. I wanted her to be comfortable. Not long after that she tried to rekindle her relationship with dad and though it didn't work out it felt like a natural stopping point for our relationship. I wanted it so badly but it just didn't work out. I met my future fiancΓ© not long afterwards and moved on with my life. There was always the feeling that I missed out on something but I built a life I loved and though mum never seemed to date anyone over the next decade, she was clearly happy. We kept a strong relationship and found it easy enough returning to normal and I never allowed myself to regret giving it a try.
I never would have thought that ten years later and after a breakup of my own, there would finally be some answers and most importantly, a fourth kiss.
After finding me in a state she quickly got to work, telling me to take a shower while she did some cleaning up of the living room I had turned into a pit. She set out pyjamas on my bed while I soaked the misery off myself and had all the rubbish packed away and in the outside bin by the time I made my way back downstairs with fresher skin and freshly shampooed hair. It had been a few days since I felt so clean. "I wasn't this bad, was I?" she teased me.
"You cried more. I just made a mess." I snapped back, and we both laughed.
"I can see those eyes Sophie. You can't trick me." she said, and she was right too. "Are you hungry?"
"No." I assured her. "One of those takeaway boxes you threw out was from tonight." I helped her with a few more chores before we settled down on the couch. The TV was on but the volume was left low as I told her about the final talk with Darren.
The truth is that mum was a woman on a mission than night, and it wouldn't take long before she put her plan in action. "Do you know what you need?" she started when I joked about my fear of opening an account on a dating app and going through the talking stage all over again.
"What's that?" I asked.