I’ve got a confession to make. For the last 2 weeks I’ve been cheating on my partner of 7 years. When we first met all those years ago, it was off the back of a failed long term relationship. A series of short lived dalliances were all unsatisfactory, there was something missing, that vital fizz wasn’t there. But the first time I met my partner I knew she was the one; it was love at first sight. That first meeting was both agony and joy. I knew she had to go back and I wouldn’t see her for a while but I also knew that she my future, and that we would eventually be together.
We’ve had a happy relationship. Other people had said how good she was and she’d proved them right, providing hours of fun, drawing admiring glances. Wear and tear took it’s toll but these problems were easily fixed, her heart and soul remained true. Blinded by my love for her, I failed to see the cracks in the relationship. I was increasingly asking too much of her, asking her to do things that she wasn’t really up to. I saw people with their partners doing things I couldn’t do and at first I blamed myself but I soon came to realise it wasn’t all my fault. Regular problems with parts eventually took their toll on my patience and before I knew it I was thinking of others. Someone had caught my eye for a while and finally we had a chance to meet and spend some time together. I wasn’t immediately smitten on our first date, there were too many things to relearn, things I had to do differently to what I was used to. But over the following two weeks I learnt her weaknesses and strengths and fell in love with her. The final nail in the coffin for my partner of 7 years was a trip we had together today to the Lakes. Up and down hills, rough and smooth, I constantly compared her to my new mistress, and she was found wanting everywhere.
So it’s goodbye Santa Cruz Blur, your days are numbered and you’ll soon be hanging up in the garage, and hello Ragley Blue Pig X.