Observer files
Where Exactly Is the Ordinary Time?
Relationships are funny things. We tend to remember the big moments: the holidays, the big occasions, photos everyone shares afterwards. But when I think about relationships that actually last, I donât think about any of those things. I think about the in-between days. The lazy Sunday mornings, evenings spent cooking dinner together, the supermarket run nobody photographs. The moments that never make it onto Instagram because, frankly, thereâs nothing particularly interesting to post. Those are the moments where people slowly build a life together.
That thought came back to me while watching the recent Mallorca timeline unfold around Sam and what appears to be his current relationship. It wasn't any one particular moment that caught my attention, it was the pattern that gradually began to emerge. And it made me look back over the past year and ask a much broader question:
Where, exactly, has the ordinary time been?
Because relationships arenât really built on premieres, theatre performances, work events or family celebrations. Those are milestones. Theyâre memorable, of course, but they arenât everyday life. Everyday life happens in between.
Looking back over roughly the past year, thatâs the part I find surprisingly difficult to identify. On paper, there seems to have been quite a bit of time together. Distillery opening, Macbeth, Christmas, OL premiere, Tartan parade, Easter, Ride Galloway. Weekend visits and public appearances. It almost sounds like a full calendar of shared experiences.
But timelines have a curious habit: they can look very different once you stop looking at individual events and start looking at the spaces between them.
Many of those occasions revolve around work. Others happen within larger family gatherings. Some appear to be little more than brief windows squeezed in between professional commitments. And the more I followed that timeline, the more I realised I kept asking myself the same question:
When did they simply get to share ordinary life together?
Mallorca actually caught my attention for exactly that reason. At first glance, it looked like one of the few occasions that might allow for a longer stretch of ordinary time together. Just ten days or so on an island, away from everything else.. But then the second half of the holiday no longer appeared to be just the three of them after Samâs nephew joined them. Shortly afterwards, the publicly visible timeline separated once again. Her own stories placed her back in Ireland for her Reiki training, while Sam was in London spending time with friends.
Again, none of those individual moments struck me as unusual. Family is normal, friends are normal, work is normal. What struck me was something else entirely.
The more I looked at the timeline, the less I found myself asking what happened during those moments, and the more I found myself asking where the ordinary moments actually were. Could there be countless quiet days that simply never become public? Of course. None of us lives our entire life on IG.
But Samâs professional timeline is unusually easy to follow. Theatre runs, film productions, interviews, cons, promotional work and travel all leave footprints, and over time those footprints create a surprisingly complete outline of where large parts of his year have been spent. Not every private moment, obviously. Nobody could honestly claim that. But enough for patterns to begin emerging.
None of those moments proves anything on its own. But when theyâre all placed back onto the same timeline, they begin to tell a story that feels noticeably different from earlier periods of Samâs private life.
What feels different isnât simply that heâs with someone. If anything, itâs the contrast with earlier situationships, which seemed far less defined yet often appeared to allow for longer stretches of uninterrupted ordinary time together. This publicly visible timeline follows a noticeably different pattern.
And thatâs something I think people sometimes misunderstand. Patterns donât emerge because we know everything. They emerge because, over time, the visible pieces begin to form a consistent picture. And thatâs exactly where Iâve arrived.
Based on the publicly observable timeline, I personally struggle to describe this as a relationship in the usual sense of the word. What the timeline reveals is a series of short, often work-centred encounters, public appearances, family occasions and brief windows of time that rarely seem to develop into the kind of ordinary, uninterrupted life where relationships are usually built.
Perhaps the private reality is completely different. None of us can know that. But if Iâm analysing only what is publicly visible, then my conclusion is actually quite simple:
To me, this doesnât read like a relationship, it reads like a situationship. Nothing more. Nothing less.












