Wednesday’s film – Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
I don’t normally follow through with much in life. I have the attention span of a goldfish. However, my two week breakup course is still in full force. Every night for two weeks, I am going to watch another movie that you’re meant to watch after a breakup. Given its a few months late, but hey, later is better than never and all that bullshit. I’m going to cry all the tears I never cried. I’m going to do it all, and then hopefully, he’ll be out of my system. It’s probably not going to work, but who really needs an excuse to watch tear-jerker movies and eat lots of chocolate ice cream whilst crying in bed? Not me 🙂
The film is a thought provoking one. Jim Carey and Kate Winslet play two very different characters from what we are used to seeing them play. It’s a good film though. Â The jist of the film, for those that haven’t seen it, is whether or not you would choose to erase all memories of an ex, if you had the option.
“Would you erase me?” Â
This had me thinking. Would I? Could I? If I were to forget about exes, huge chunks of my life would disappear. I would never have travelled so far and wide if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have been through any of the shitty experiences; I would never have become the person I am today.
I wouldn’t know how it feels to be cheated on. This means that I would love more freely and I wouldn’t be as cautious as I am today when it comes to giving my heart away. I wouldn’t instantly become curious when I get one of those “gut feelings” that, up to now, have always been right. I wouldn’t question the guy when they were working late. I certainly wouldn’t drive myself mad with all the things that COULD be happening while they are not by my side. Saying that, I wouldn’t even have a “gut feeling”, would I?
I wouldn’t have been beaten by The Husband. Or that guy at school. Or the guy that punched me right outside my house. Or the “incident” with The Big Love. I wouldn’t flinch whenever a guy raised his voice, or made a sudden movement. I wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweats.
I wouldn’t have that scar just above my lip. Or the scar on my back from when I was thrown into the a door handle. Or the scars on my feet from where I was dragged around a parking lot. Or the scar on my hand from where I was stabbed with a screw driver. Or the scars on my legs that I did to myself. I definitely wish I could erase those parts of my life. However, if I hadn’t been through those things before, or at least remembered them, I would probably forgive again. And it’s true what they say – a leopard cannot change his spots. It WILL happen again. They probably weren’t sorry.
I wouldn’t have felt the happiness that I felt when I was with those guys. Being curled up on the couch beneath a blanket watching The Big Love play video games. Eating a midnight picnic with Number 4, (the guy that punched me in the face outside my apartment) to celebrate our one year anniversary. Or the amazing sex that we had. The comfortable feeling I had with the husband when we were actually doing alright for a few weeks. If I couldn’t remember all of that, I wouldn’t know how GOOD love could feel. It’s hard to remember the good as well as the bad, but the good makes it all worthwhile, right?
I wouldn’t have travelled at all if it hadn’t have been for those guys. I wouldn’t have made it to the other side of the world. I wouldn’t have moved to the other country in Europe, and in turn, I wouldn’t have seen all the other countries that I did. I wouldn’t have gone to the war zone. All of these things happened because of those guys, and in turn, I wouldn’t have met those amazing friends and enemies, or experienced all those things I did. And those things I wouldn’t change for the world. Those memories, the good and the bad, were the best memories of my life.
I wouldn’t have felt the pain of a miscarriage. Nor would I have felt the joy of marriage. There wouldn’t have been family feuds, or get-togethers. Would I really want to erase all of that stuff? As much as I’m in a slump right now, unable to get The Big Love out of my head, wallowing in self pity eight and a half months too late, would I really be prepared to lose all of those memories?
No, I wouldn’t. I love those memories, and the entire process of falling in love, falling out of love, and everything in between. I have felt love, and I have lost it, and that’s more than a lot of people can say. Â Could you really hate your time with someone so much that you would be willing to completely erase all memory from them out of your mind? As much as those people hurt you, or weren’t what you wanted them to be, didn’t they help to mould you into the person that you have become today? I know that I would be a very different person if it weren’t for those guys, and possibly one that I wouldn’t have liked much. I know when not to forgive, when enough is really enough, the power of drugs over a person and the way they are, and much more…. I like to think I’m smarter now. Bitter, hurting, yet smarter. Â So in conclusion, no I wouldn’t want to erase them.
Would you?
I am so mad right now. It’s funny because I wasn’t mad before and it has literally just hit me.
The Ex, Number 29, has put a new picture up on Facebook. It’s the outside of OUR house with his two new vehicles and a boat. OUR FUCKING HOUSE! He tagged Her, The New Bitch, in his photo. That’s not her damn house, it’s mine!
As you can probably tell, this is going to be a rant, and I am very sorry in advance for any language this may contain.
How is this shit still bugging me? It’s been over 6 months now. 8 in fact! Why is this still hitting me so godamn hard?  If I saw this guy right now, I would punch him in the face. How dare he? That furniture; that was picked out by ME! That art work on the walls; yeah that was me too, asshole! The way I turned one entire wall in our bedroom into a curtained wall; yup, as you’ve probably guessed – that was all me too! That house screams me. Everything about it is me. How could he tag her in it?  I put my heart and soul into that house. It was the perfect combination of him and me – his need for modern touches, with my need for soft art work and impressive, yet unique, finishes. It was US. How could he make it THEM?
We fought over the interior of that house. I remember the first time we fucked in that bed. The time that I gave him head on the couch with the blinds open in the middle of the afternoon. The time we were both coked up, and he fucked me with a Budweiser bottle on the living room floor. The way I was bent over the kitchen work surface in a maids outfit, waiting for him to come home. The tea light candles that I placed all the way down the stairs, leading to the bathroom when I wanted to give him a romantic bath for two. That hole in the wall I made when I throw his boot at him. The bump on the stairway wall when we couldn’t get the couch in. So many memories. How could he have forgotten? How could he replace me with her?  He can’t have loved me. He wouldn’t rub it in my face that way if he did. He knows full well that I would be stalking his Facebook page, and yet he made THAT picture, tagged with his new girlfriend, his cover picture – the first picture I would see. How could he do that? This breaks my heart that he could be so heartless. I know it’s his Facebook and all, but really? Our house tagged with her in it?
It’s funny because when we broke up, all I could remember was the bad times. Now, all I can remember is the good – him pissing in the corner of the bedroom because he was drunk. That was ridiculously funny. Funnier than it should have been, anyway. I remember being sat on the floor in the living room, playing with my new Louboutin shoes he gave me for my birthday. I remember the way that we used to lay on the couch, me wrapped in my blanket and leaning on him, him playing Call of Duty or some other game, which I used to love just watching him play. Where did all my bad memories go? Why is it that I just remember the good? I cannot believe all of these memories were so easily replaced. He used to tell me that he knew I was “The One”, what happened to that? Did it just disappear? I know when I called him “The One” I truly meant it. And I still do.  I’m so hurt by this guy right now, and his actions. His blatant disrespect for my feelings clearly shows he’s over it already.
He made a post on Facebook just a little while ago saying something along the lines of “Did you ever just look at “your past” and go wow! Did I make the right choice!” The punctuation he chose made things rather confusing to me. The exclamation point at the end of the sentence says to me that he’s thinking he most definitely did make the right choice. However, he was never any good at punctuation and this could have just been a typo.
I am missing the most important thing though, of course; he doesn’t necessarily mean me! I automatically assumed it was me, of course, and this sent me on a spiral of depression. Why did he make the right choice? Have I got older? Am I ugly? What is so wrong with my life that he would say that? All of these swiftly followed by a side helping of – He must be stalking my Facebook page – he’s still interested in my life!
See what I mean – this guy sends me into a spiral of crazy, to levels I didn’t even know I had within me. Fuck I miss him. How is still having this effect on me? I keep having this constant day dream of him turning up at my door with the news that I have always wanted to hear. It’s never going to happen; when the hell am I going to get over this? My mind seems to have been consumed with My Mr. Grey, and Number 29, with a side order of Number 15, (The Lapdog) who text me the other night, asking me if I had blocked him on Facebook. I had, but that was because of a recent fight, which left me so mad at him, I didn’t even want to have contact with him.
When did men become my life? That is a ridiculous question; men have always been the be-all, and end-all of my life. It’s just getting so confusing. That is before we even get to the thought that The Guy I Couldn’t Get Rid Of could be a compulsive liar. This is another story for another day. My future seems to be with My Mr. Grey, but I can’t get him to commit to it. My past with My Big Love; I just can’t seem to leave it behind. I am in limbo – I’m in the middle of love, lust and hatred. And I fucking hate it. Fuck you Singledom!
I haven’t been around for ages, and I will tell you why. It is because there has been NOTHING going on in my life. At all. Whatsoever. I still haven’t had THAT conversation with My Mr. Grey, (Number 23) but in my head, we are in a relationship, so I’m not doing anything or anyone else. This is a good start for me. It’s been about a month since he came down to see me and I haven’t had sex since then. A month?! It feels like it has been about a year. That’s the truth about LDR’s, or Long Distance Relationships – they are shit.
Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t jeopardize what I THINK My Mr. Grey and I have, so I therefore wouldn’t want to start sniffing around anywhere else. On the other hand, however, I am quite literally crawling the walls. Just yesterday I jerked off about 4 times. I had the day off work, and pretty much all I did was smoke a joint and masturbate for the entire day. It felt good, don’t get me wrong, but this behavior leads me to believe that I have a bit of a problem.
The other problem with the LDR is that you have a lot of time to think. I have smoked far too much pot, and I have also eaten far too many munchies. In my high states, I have reminisced and this is by far, the most dangerous past time you could come up with.
I restored my phone the other day. I hadn’t done it before this point because I still had texts from the ex on there, (The Big Love – Number 29) and I simply COULD NOT get rid of those. However, a lot of the apps on my phone were still on his account, so I couldn’t update them. The time had come for me – it was time to restore the phone and quite literally remove the last traces of him from my day to day life. We are no longer friends on Facebook, we blocked each other on Skype, we deleted each other from MSN… It would seem that those text messages were the last thing I had of us together, and for some reason, there was no way that I could delete them. The time had finally come. It brought with it some tears, of course. I had a wee look through them and it made my heart actually melt. Once upon a time, we were blissfully happy. Well, probably not but reading the texts back it sure looked like it. We made each other laugh, we put “x”’ at the end of our conversations, and overall, we were together. I hate that I still think about him, and that I compare other guys to him. If the old saying is true, and it really does take half the time you were with someone to get over them, I have about another 5 months to go, and if truth be told, I cannot fucking wait.
I still love this guy and this annoys me. I am willing to embark on my new adventure with my Mr. Grey, to the point where I would quite happily pack up my things and relocate to the other side of the country in a heartbeat, yet I still can’t get the old asshole out of my head. He really did break my bloody heart.
The only problem with feeling like this is that I actually want to tell him. I want to email him or Facebook him and make sure he knows exactly how much damage he did to me. No guy compares to him. The girls and I discuss men at work, mostly those that come into our store, and there is no one out there that takes my breath away in the same way that The Big Love did.  Yes, there was the guy so beautiful I couldn’t speak but that’s all he had going for him. Then there is the guy I couldn’t get rid of – Number 34; he had a huge cock, was great in the sack, but just didn’t kiss right. The ex kisses perfectly of course. Or at least kissed – he made have changed his technique for his new girl.
The problem with the LDR is that you think about all the things you don’t want to think about. You remember all those things you didn’t want to remember. You get so horny you spend the entire day masturbating, and you basically act like the hermit you said you would never become. Wow, is this really worth it?
The thing is I reckon it might be. When My Mr. Grey texts me, he makes me smile. He says the nicest things, and I know that he misses me just as much as I’m missing him. So for now, the working too many hours, freelance writing on the side, and day dreaming about things gone past and times to come will just have to do. It’ll all be worth it in the end surely?
There is nothing like a good bit of reminiscing when you are experiencing a dry spell with men, and this got me to thinking about firsts, (and talking, after a rather in-depth conversation at work)
I have decided to compile a list of firsts…. Those moments in your life that change things forever. You know the ones – your first fuck, your first kiss, and your first sexually awakening moment. I decided to start this blog, not only because I have had sexual experiences that most women, (and men) would only ever dream of therefore I should shout about them, but also because I want to be brutally honest about everything that I have been through. And let’s face it; in the past, I have been through an awful lot. More than most others at my young age, I would imagine. I apologize if this gets a little boring, but it was in my head so I wanted to talk about it.
My first crush
My first crush, unless you are counting Tom Cruise, who I had a major crush on in high school, was a guy I later fucked once school was over and out. This guy was Number 6. He was hot, tanned, ripped, a little bit of a nut job, and while we were at school, completely out of my league. At school, he was a bit of a jerk, especially to me. It turned out that he wasn’t that great in bed, and the night was soon forgotten about. Still, I liked him, I wanted him and I got him. I really am a spoiled princess.
My first kiss
Ah yes, the awkward first kiss. Mine was with a guy I couldn’t stand. He bullied me at school, and I think back then, we had this weird flirtation that now would probably be known as the whole 50 Shades of Grey scenario – submissive and dominant; him being the latter. It was all tongue and saliva and neither of us were very good. It was in the center of the locker room outside the technology block at high school. We were in the middle; everyone else was around us in a circle, “egging” us on. It was awful.
My first love
1)    I have problems when it comes to choosing my first love. I thought I was in love with those guys in my younger years, but when you compare it to the way that you feel when you love later on in life, it is virtually nothing. I like to think it was Number 1 – the guy whose “banjo string” I broke. We dated for 10 months – this is a long time when you are just 13/14. It started off rather bizarrely – I was bullied very badly at school, and he was one of the popular kids. He tried to keep it a secret when we first started dating at the beginning of the 6 weeks school Summer holidays, and when we returned back to school, I told him we either went official or we went to nothing. To my shock and surprise, he decided to go official. He was popular and I was dating him, which in turn made me rather popular. It was weird to be on this side of the fence for once – I was beaten rather badly by both boys and girls at school, and then all of a sudden, I wasn’t.
He was a bit of a dick to be honest – he once hit me in the form room at school, resulting in all the other boys pouncing on him. He cried a lot. He was also very controlling. He hated me smoking, hated me going to the cafeteria without him, and hated me hanging out with my friends when he thought I should have been hanging around with him… It was a little crazy to be fair. Every spare moment away from school was spent together, and although I know a lot of first relationships are like this, it was all a little intense. We broke up heading into exams – I did better than expected and he did worse. I guess that says a lot really. We copied a line from the hit film “Ghost” – “Ditto” was our secret way of saying “I Love You”
2)    I can’t work out if he was my first REAL love, or if this next guy was. He was Number 20. It was passionate, (for a 16 year old girl anyway) and it was awesome. Thinking back to him still makes me smile. At the time, he was amazing in the sack, but in all fairness, I didn’t know any better yet. I went back there a few years ago, and it wasn’t all that. There were rumors that he cheated so I slept with his best friend. I then cheated on Number 4 with this guy, and almost messed it all up. It wasn’t worth it.
I remember being very sad about this guy when we broke up – I was living with my Nan, and when he TEXT me, (oh yes, I got the text breakup) I cried into her lap for an hour or so, until I picked myself up, dusted myself down, and went out for a good old alcoholic bender with his best friend, (yet again) to get over it.
I don’t know which of these were my first loves. They certainly weren’t my GREAT loves. Almost like mini-loves; the ones you have when you are younger that sets the scene for how you are going to love others after them. They impacted me, of course – the first never took my underwear off when we slept together, and even now I have this weird thing about getting stark-bollock naked. I don’t like men seeing my frou-frou. If I get head, it has to be with the lights off. The second set the path for my crazy love of mental sex – he tied me, blindfolded me and teased me, and all of this was just our first time in bed together.
My first GREAT love
There is most definitely a difference between your FIRST love and your first GREAT love. My first GREAT love was my husband – a man that I would have done anything for, and put up with a lot from. He cheated on me repeatedly, he physically and mentally abused me, he left me with no money AT ALL for weeks at a time, and in short, he completely destroyed me. It took every ounce of my strength to walk away from him, and even then I couldn’t have done it without a little help from Number 29.
I loved my hubby with everything I had. He cheated at the beginning of our relationship and I forgave him. He cheated not long after we got married and we moved to a different country, and I forgave him. He repeatedly cheated – it was as if he had a problem. In reality, the problem was mine – I let him get away with it, therefore he was bound to do it again and again. We got married too young; it was the whirlwind romance. This was in 2006, and I still haven’t managed to divorce him.
Do I still love him? Yes, of course I do. I stayed with him through the worst things that you could ever have imagined. He split my face open with one punch that was so forceful, he left half of his knuckle in my lip and I had to have it removed, and then have stitches. This was the worst of it all, I think. That was the first time he had actually HIT me. He had dragged me around a parking lot by my hair before, cutting open the front of my feet where I was dragged. He spat on me, he used to put his hands around my throat to shut me up, to the point where I had great big welts across my neck. I have photos of this still, and every time I come across them by accident, it shocks me. Was I really willing to let a man make that much of a mark on me? Apparently yes. What else did he do? He used to hold my wrists to the point where they were bruised. Again, I still have these photos. He once locked me in a cupboard in my house. My upstairs and downstairs neighbors knew all about this, but of course I denied it. It was the hole in the face/hospital night that got things out in the open, and this is where my downstairs neighbor started phoning my Mama. This is when shit got real.
Things were bad between us – he trashed my flat before we got married. He left me without any money once we had moved, snapping the bank cards so I couldn’t get access to anything, and then left the country for 4 months with his work. During this 4 month period, I heard from him 3 times and he slept with 5 other women. This was while I was practically starving; having to borrow money from my family so I could afford “luxuries” like food, tampons and toilet roll. I resorted to borrowing money from my family and friends in order to survive, and also, for the short duration that my Internet bill WAS paid, I tried my hand at online freelance writing; something that has stuck with me and that I still do today. Was this enough to make me leave? No, of course it wasn’t. I was an abused woman; something I couldn’t say back then, but now I say with the strength of a woman that was lucky enough to get out and overcome it. Even now when men make fast movements around me, I flinch. If a man shouts at me, I have a panic attack. He destroyed me, or at least a little part of me. I would never let him destroy me completely. I would never let any man.
Towards the end of our relationship, the only time we ever really got along was when we were both high on cocaine, something that repeated itself with Number 29. It was a disaster that I am glad I managed to escape from. He is in a long term relationship now with a girl that looks exactly like me. I wonder sometimes if he does to her what he did to me. We no longer talk, for obvious reasons, and even when we try to discuss the divorce, it ends up in a big fight. Ignorance is bliss for now. Until I can afford to get solicitors to get rid of him for me.
The thing about us was that when we were happy, we were deliriously happy and we had it all. He made me the happiest person ever. The problem was it was only ever good for a few months at a time, if even that long, and it soon went back to shit again, with some other woman happening, or another trip to the hospital for me. We lost a baby together. It wasn’t planned and I didn’t even realize I was pregnant. He was distraught about the situation. Me, on the other hand, well I just thought throughout it all that I had a lucky escape.
He was my first GREAT love.
OK, it’s official. I am already fed up of this being single business. I am lonely, I am horny, and above all, I miss having someone to snuggle up with in bed at night. What the hell is wrong with me? I had The Lapdog and I didn’t want him; now I do. I had the guy I couldn’t get rid of but did, I didn’t want him, and now I kinda want him to come back. What the hell?
I do appreciate that I am a girl, and I am meant to change my mind every five minutes, but this is beyond ridiculous now.
Work today was fun – we dressed up in beach wear to raise money for charity. I have a large chest that I rarely get out in public. Today, I made an exception. I wore a tight fitting white vest with a Hawaiian shirt over the top, tied up at the waist, and I did my hair and makeup all big and colorful. Did I find a single man to flirt with? Did I fuck? All that tit and no “tadaaa” Perfect. Just what my confidence needs right now.
After work I met the Bestie I’ve Never Had a Dalliance With. We did some shopping, went for some coffee, and generally had a giggle. We held hands in the grocery store – this is something we do a lot. It never means anything to either of us; it’s just something we do. Today it made me realize how much I missed having someone else’s fingers in those spaces between my own. I want to feel the warmth, and perhaps love, of a man around me. That is, of course, until I have it and then I no longer want it anymore.
I am now home, staring at my computer screen and wondering what is up with my evening. It’s a Friday night and my big plans are – smoke a spliff, eat the two large bars of chocolate I have bought, and fall asleep, possibly watching some cheesy romantic movie that will make me cry and feel even worse about myself than I already do right now. What a great Friday night.
The thing is I don’t really go out drinking these days. I don’t really go out and do a lot of anything, so the chances of me actually meeting a man that I want to have some kind, any kind of relationship with is pretty damn slim. How the hell am I meant to meet a man when I work, come home and look after my demented family, (the Grandpa was poorly at the beginning of the week so I am kind of caring for him right now) and smoke weed until I giggle and don’t feel the loneliness of being single anymore? I don’t really have that many friends here anymore either – I was away for seven years and only came back around six months ago. All of my old friends are either people I cannot stand to be around anymore, (the town I live in is less than desirable) or have had babies, got married and moved on with their lives. It would seem that I have gone right back to the beginning, and with all my travelling and love stories, I am no closer to where I want to be than what I was when I was 17 years old!
It’s hard meeting new people when you don’t even know where you belong anymore. Do I want to stay in this country now? Is it even worth me trying to make new friends? Where do I see myself in five years time? These are all questions I have randomly zipping through my mind, and in reality, I have no idea what the answers are to any of them. All I know is that I want to be happy. I don’t know if I want a relationship, and I probably won’t know until the right (or wrong) man comes along. I don’t know if I want to get married again. I don’t know if I want babies. I’m just over my mid-twenties now, so these are things that surely I would, or should know by now? Everyone keeps telling me that one day I will wake up and everything will click into place, especially where babies and such like are concerned. Why hasn’t this happened to me yet? I have been married, I have been in love, and I have moved to the other side of the world for men that I would have given my right arm to. Why don’t I want kids yet?
This is why I hate being single. I question everything about myself that I thought I loved. I used to love the fact that I was a free spirit that had no home. I used to love that I was an adventure seeker. I used to love that I was unpredictable. Now I’m not so sure. Perhaps it is just the weird and strange place that I am in right now? After all, we have pretty much established that I am nowhere near over the Big Love, (no more Facebook posts to report as yet) and definitely not ready to move on. One thing is for sure however, and that is that something needs to change soon; otherwise I can see myself spiraling into a dark place that I was once, and hope never to go to again. In all fairness, I probably just need a bit of action – another little fling to help me through my dark days. It always seemed to help before….
Follow me on Facebook & Twitter!
I am going to apologize in advance – this post is going to be one long man-hating rant. The Big Love, Number 29 on the list – “What’s Your Number?” the one I am still pining for; the one that broke my heart into a thousand teeny-tiny little pieces, and who I haven’t yet recovered from – he has done it once again!
They say it takes half the time you with that person to get over them, and we were together for 2 years, so technically, I still have 6 months more pining over that man to get through yet. Screw him! Well, with a little bit of Facebook stalking this morning, I read his latest Facebook post – he’s buying a house with his new girlfriend. They have been together just under 6 months. We were together for 2 years and I couldn’t even get him to commit to sponsoring me to stay in the godamn country! He couldn’t in all fairness – he had a bankruptcy looming over him that still wasn’t finished yet, which brings me nicely to my next point – how the f*** is he buying a house with his credit?! I feel so used right now. I worked my ass off, 6 days a week, to pay off his shit – his kid that he doesn’t see from a previous two-night stand, the wife that he was divorcing, and the bills that he never sorted out which lead to his bankruptcy in the first place… I feel like such a stepping stone. We built up a beautiful rented house, and I spent a small fortune in art on the walls and making the place look nice. Now he’s living there with his new Bitch and they are buying a house!
I don’t even know why I’m upset to be honest, or why it has affected me in quite this way, but when I read that Facebook post, I quite literally burst into tears. I am still not over this man, nor am I going to be for some time yet it would seem. He broke my heart. I don’t even know where to begin, but I guess I owe you guys some sort of explanation for the current man-hating, sex-addicted whore that I have become.
It was the massive love story. We were in a war zone. He had not long left his wife; I was in the process of leaving my husband. Meeting this guy gave me the kick up the backside that I so desperately needed in order to finally leave the husband. Number 29, the Big Love as we shall call him, showed me how a girl should be treated – he gave me an opening into the fairytale that I was so desperately seeking for. It was fast, it was crazy, and it was love. Big Love. I left my war zone, left my husband, moved to the other side of the world to be with the Big Love, and it soon began to fall apart. Without going into too many details because that would just give the game away, we started fighting.
He had a drug problem that kept resurfacing, and after a while, he ended up losing his job after crashing one of his work trucks into a bank in the snow. He refused counseling because he didn’t need it, clearly. We were on/off, on/off, on/off for a long time, and it ended up being a revolving circle of pain and hatred, love and tears until eventually, I found the courage I needed to finally book a flight, pack up all of my stuff into the smallest, cheapest boxes I could find and fly my sorry ass back home, with tears in my eyes and a heavy, heavy heart.
In all fairness, I wholeheartedly believe that this guy was “The One”, if there even is such a thing. He made me the happiest I have ever been, even when I was sad, and although I think I miss the life that I had on the other side of the world more than I actually miss him, it still pains me to know that we are no longer together, and I can no longer see his beaming smile, or cradle into the “nook” of his armpit when we sleep together at night in our beautiful, massive king sized bed.
The fact that he is buying a house, or even thinking about buying a house, with a girl that he has been with for just six months, hurts me right to my very core. It’s like a stab in the heart. A stab that I was almost expecting, but not for some time yet!
I guess in reality, I was still expecting the fairytale to come true – that somehow, someday he was going to turn up on my doorstep and tell me that he had made the biggest mistake in letting me walk away. He was always telling me that he believed I was the one for him – even right to the last minute he said such a thing. Yet now, just six months on, he’s already over me and moving on to a new and happier lifestyle with his new Bitch. She may be the nicest person in the world, but to me, just as with the Lapdog, she will be the Bitch.
Surely he can’t be over me already? I know what he is like in a relationship – I saw it with me and I saw snippets of it from when he was with his wife. He loves them all over Facebook, at every possible opportunity, yet with this girl; the new girl, he has barely mentioned her. There are no photos of them together, aside from on her Facebook, there are no big “I love you’s” – these are all things he does with EVERY relationship, yet not with her?! Why is this? Is she just a stepping stone too? Something that he needs in order to buy the house he has been so desperately craving for so many years.
He had this big life plan that he would be married again and buying a house by the time he was 30 so that he could settle down and have kids – that’s what was meant to have happened with us. Why is it happening so quickly with her?
I guess right now, my biggest problem is jealousy. I am jealous, and I freely admit it. I am jealous that she is spending those nights with MY man. The man that I believe was meant for ME! How did I go through all the hard work of re-building his confidence when he had none, persuading him to try new things, building a beautiful home, and making sure he had a beautiful closet with new piercings and tattoos, great hair, a beaming smile… all for her to enjoy? How is this fair? And how much longer am I going to keep feeling like this?
All I know is that stalking his Facebook page isn’t helping me, and I should probably stop that, but in all fairness, I probably never will. I just hope that he is happy, and that she is too. Maybe he has changed now; maybe he is a better person, away from the drugs, and with his head screwed on? All I know is that no matter how much of a Fuck Up he was when we were together, I still could have dealt with so much more shit, and I would have done quite happily if it meant staying with him and us making it to the big fairytale ending. I guess now we will never know, and my heart will continue to break until eventually it mends itself. I don’t usually regret anything that I have done, but in all honesty, I REALLY regret walking away from him and somewhere deep down, I feel I have made a terrible mistake… Although to be fair, how much more is one person meant to go through before they finally decide enough is enough?
Follow my heartache on Facebook & Twitter!
So, I haven’t been around recently and I apologize to my readers for this. It’s been a pretty hectic week to be fair so I thought I’d give you all an update.  So the Mama Bear stuff – she got her blood tests back and they were all clear, so that is good. She had an ultrasound and they found nodules, and we are awaiting the results of those to see if she needs a biopsy. She is in better spirits thankfully, which means that we all are, and my sister now knows about it all so I don’t have to watch my mouth. I’m not very good at keeping secrets and I can never remember to think before I speak, so trying to keep a secret like that for very long would have nearly crippled me!
Now for the man… Well, Wednesday night he came over and we had a bit of a mini fight. He wants my time all the time, and I simply cannot give it to him. Between my Mama, my job, my freelance writing on the side, and my friends and family, I don’t have a lot of time, and I have recently come to the conclusion that I simply do not have time to be a girlfriend. I need a fuck buddy that is there when I need him, and gone when I don’t. It turns out the man was already having reservations about the lack of time we were spending together, or the fact that we didn’t feel like “boyfriend and girlfriend”, so not only did I manage to break up with him somewhat successfully, I also managed to make him believe that it was his idea. Score!
He was fine Wednesday night. I decided to let him stay and obviously honored the parting blowjob. I broke his heart in a roundabout sort of way, so it was the least I could do.
Thursday morning we woke up and he started getting all girlie on my ass. Now I don’t mind a bit of emotion from a guy, but considering that we have been dating since April, and in a relationship since the beginning of June, I personally feel that this meant far too much to him for such a short amount of time. I mean, I know I’m kinda cool, but I’m not really anything special, and for him to react in the way that he did Thursday morning, and right up until now, I just feel that he was being a tad melodramatic.
We both agreed that this relationship wasn’t going in quite the right way for either of us. He’s 28, so there is a good chance that he is going to want to settle down at some point soon, and I’ve already done the marriage thing and I haven’t divorced that twat yet, so I’m certainly not looking to settle anytime soon. Also, he wants a proper girlfriend – holding hands, public displays of affection, lots of time together, etc. Right now, that really isn’t my thing. So, the sensible option was for us to break up and for him to stop wasting his time on something that wasn’t going to go his way at any point soon.
Firstly, when he left me on Thursday, he decided to tell me that if we were meant to be together, we would end up back together. Sweet. This morning, I woke up to messages from him telling me that he didn’t want us to break up and he thinks we gave up too soon. Seriously? How many more times do I have to tell this guy that right now, a relationship is not for me? It was one of the biggest reasons why The Lapdog and I didn’t work out! It’s funny because the current guy picked up on my reactions to The Lapdog and the things that he did, and commented on how I was jealous. I fought against this to the death of course, but he does have a fair point.  This brings me very nicely to my next point – last night I missed The Lapdog’s birthday party, and I feel like a pile of shit about it to be honest. I didn’t go for a few reasons.
Firstly, I couldn’t really afford it.
Secondly, he had invited a guy that I tried to date when I first came home from the other side of the world, and it all just got a bit weird. Also, this guy and the Lapdog actually hated each for years, so I’m not really sure what’s going on with that situation. From what I can figure out, the guy I almost dated is the best friend of the Lapdog’s girlfriend, AKA the Bitch. Hence the invite, I’m assuming.
Thirdly, I don’t want to see the Lapdog sucking the Bitch’s face off the entire evening. I’m single now, so technically I’m not getting laid. I’m going to want to have sex with the Lapdog, and I know that I can’t because he has a girlfriend now.
In short, I am back to being single. I am back to not getting laid. I am also back to staring at my ceiling, feeling more than a little lonely, wishing I had someone to snuggle up with, just like I did last night. However, I would rather be single than not happy with the guy I’m with, so I guess I made the right decisions. Or so I hope….
Today has been a pretty hellish day. Firstly, last night the guy that I’m trying to get rid of turned up unannounced at my house. I have space issues and I am not used to a man being around all the time, so when I say I need my space; I need my space. Him turning up uninvited at 12:30 at night was the last thing I wanted. I was already feeling pretty low.
On top of that, we had a mini fight. I’m looking for a reason to get rid of him to be honest, so I guess it is working out pretty well, but all I wanted to do was to crawl into my bed and sleep off my horrible mood.  He left this morning without any hassles and then my mother called in tears. She had a car crash a while back and has had a few injuries at the hands of it. Well, it turns out one of her injuries might not have been an injury – she is now being tested for cancer. Lymphoma to be more precise. She should get the blood results back on Monday, and we’re all keeping our fingers tightly crossed that it is nothing to be worried about. With anyone else, I keep my shit together pretty well, but the thought of my Mama Bear having to deal with this; it tore me to shreds and I couldn’t keep the tears in. I’m not a crier by nature, so the fact that I cried just scared her even more.
My Mama Bear eats healthy, she doesn’t drink, she doesn’t smoke and she’s in shape. Why the hell could she have cancer? It makes me angry. I don’t know how to deal with the rush of emotion that I have running through my body right now. I’m angry and sad, fearful yet hopeful, scared yet confused. I’m a smoker, I drink, I was overweight up until recently, and I don’t really eat that healthy. Yet I’m fine. I appreciate I have age on my side, but it’s not fair. She’s my Mama and without her, I don’t know how I would survive. She is my rock, my best friend, my Mother and my everything. The thought of her possibly having this killer is terrifying and I don’t know what to do.  I comforted her of course – it’s probably nothing, the Doctor’s have to test for everything, don’t worry yourself about it, just wait for the results and we’ll take it from there… blah blah blah. She has convinced herself that she has it, and I can’t seem to find the strength to put the right amount of conviction in my voice to tell her that she is going to be OK.
I realized – I could deal with anything with her right by my side, but without her, I’d fall apart.  So for now, we wait. We wait a long and painful weekend until we get the results that hopefully, tell her she is overreacting. I’m dreading that phone call from her. Monday morning, right before I have to go to work. I’m hoping if its bad news, I can keep myself together for long enough to convince her that we will be OK, and she WILL pull through this. She has to – she’s my Mama.  Then there is my Sister. She is a sensitive soul and we have decided not to tell anyone about this until we know the results for sure from the Doctors on Monday. This would cripple my Sister. She is even more dependent on our Mother than I am. She lives with her. This is not a conversation I am going to enjoy having.  I know we are probably overreacting, but when someone says that “C” word to you – the only thing you can think about is how you are going to lose the one person that means more to you than anyone else in the world. I just hope the results are good – ones that we want to hear….
It’s strange though, because of all the things I have running through my head right now, I can’t seem to be able to put them down in words, and normally that’s the one thing that helps me get through stuff. Right now, I have so many things in my head; I can’t make sense of it all.  So, keep your fingers tightly crossed for us. I know I sure as hell will be. And if there is a God, which I’m not even sure of, he answers my secret prayers and let’s my beautiful Mama be OK xoxoxo
Tonight I am feeling melancholy. I got home from work, smoked a doobie and to be honest, I’m feeling kinda sad today. I don’t even know really. Actually, I think I do know what it is. It’s loneliness. I may love to laugh, joke around and generally be obsessed with sex but in reality, I’m just a little girl in a big world looking for her happy ending.
I think about all the guys I left behind… I’m doing that right now. The Hubby with his wandering cock and anger problem, The Big Love with the beautiful face and the coke problem, The Lapdog with the amazing sex and the stalker problem. All of these guys had a massive impact on me in one way or another, and although I may have come far with regards to how much dignity I try and hold up, or how little I will put up with shit, I’m still no closer to finding the fairytale ending that everyone tells me I deserve.
I miss my Big Love. I miss it at times like this when I’m feeling blue. He hurt me more than anyone else, and in reality, I guess he didn’t really do anything wrong. Even despite the tears I cried and the lonely nights I spent on the couch, I’d give anything to be back there. Not all the time, of course, just at times like this.
I miss the way our bed felt with him in it. He was always warm in bed, and as much as I used to hate his snoring with a passion, it was comforting to know he was there. I never once thought the one thing I hated about him more than anything else would end up being the one thing about him I find myself missing the most. That and the way his arms felt around me. I remember this one time that I was crying so hard, I wasn’t really making a noise anymore; I was just shaking all over, and dribbling all the over the place. Anyway, he gave me the biggest cuddle. He pulled me onto his lap, wrapped his arms around me, and just held me without saying a word for what felt like eternity. He made me feel safe. The zombie apocalypse; he’d have saved me from that for sure.
He had a new girlfriend in no time after I left, but I don’t think he’s that into it to be honest. I know what he’s like in love and he likes to shout about it, especially on Facebook. She’s very clearly into him, but yet there is nothing back the other way. Maybe I’m wrong, I just think he had something to prove once I’d gone. She was it.
I stalk him on Facebook sometimes. It rips me to shreds and I don’t know why I do it to myself. I’m kinda waiting for the day he leaves her. I’m not sure why – I doubt he’d even think about me. But it would make me feel better for sure!
I miss The Lapdog too. He’s happy with the Bitch. I’m glad, I really am. At the same time though, I hate it. I know I have my current guy; the one I’m trying to get rid of. Last night he really made me smile. I don’t know if it’s because I hadn’t seem him in a while, but the sex was epic (he tied me up and blindfolded me) and I thought he looked cute. He had his hair different and I really liked it. I actually had a good time with him. And then this morning I realised again that I’m still not that into him. Not even spending the night in his ‘nook’ – the bit where his armpit meets his chest, and your head just fits perfectly. He did wake me up at 5am for sex though. Idiot. He knows I’m not a morning person. And when I got home from work, he’d left his cup in my room and not bothered to clean up after himself. Huff! Â I guess I’m just having a bad day. A bad day that would have been perfectly fixed by a good cuddle from a man I adore….
Not So Sex in My City! 