Today is what would have been our three year anniversary. Is it only me that would be hurting today, or would you be hurting too? Am I being melodramatic over this?
My heart hurts so much right now, I don’t even know how to describe it. It just feels so … heavy? I really, really miss him. It feels as if it were a thousand years ago, but at the same time it could have just happened yesterday. I spent the first six months after I left him sorting out everyone else’s problems, so I delayed my grieving process by about six months I think. And fuck is it hitting like a godamn brick. I have never felt this pain over losing someone before. I never once felt this bad about leaving The Hubby. No breakup has felt like this; not for me anyway. I smoked a joint when I got home from work last night. I knew it would get bad. I knew I would get like this again; insane, break up crazy. That joint didn’t help me. I actually think it made it worse. I have One Ball sexting me all the things he wants to do to me when I see him next weekend, and all I can think about is Big Love. One Ball doesn’t know the importance of tonight, of course; why would he? I think he knows something’s up though.
I can’t think straight. I watch some TV and I think of him. I type some blog and I think of him. I do my laundry and Boom! He’s in my head again. What right does he have to consume so much of my attention right now? Ugh. I hate him.
I didn’t mean that. I don’t hate him.
I can’t remember exactly what he looks like anymore. I have a fuzzy image of his face in my head; just enough to make out it’s him, but not that clear. It’s as if my mind is slowly fading out my picture of him. I see photos sometimes and it hits me exactly how attractive he was to me. That cleft lip that he was so anxious about, or his “designer” looking stubble. He was beautiful in my eyes; from that lanky streak of piss I fell in love with, to the “hench” well-built guy I walked away from. Guys and gals, he was fucking hot.
I wonder if he knows how much he rocked my world. Like actually rocked my world. The guy was awesome. He was funny too, but I think he was funny to me because it was ironic. Half the time I’m not even sure I knew what he was saying to me. His accent just drove me nuts at the beginning so he could have been talking shit to me the entire time and I would never have known it. I think his accent made him sound kinda dumb, but it was hot and red-neck at the same time. He used to text me every morning to say “have a nice day” and after a while, I learned that when he didn’t send that, I had done something wrong or he was pissed. It was like this weird little code that only we knew about. I used to hate those mornings where I didn’t get a “good morning” text. Yesterday, I got the same feeling for One Ball. He has text me every morning, regardless of time, to say “Good morning!” This morning he didn’t text me. I missed it. I didn’t like that he hadn’t sent me a morning text. He later told me that he hadn’t had a signal, but it made me realize how big of a gesture this was for me. I crave that morning text when I am in a relationship, and I liked what it was “code” for with the Big Love – it was our little thing and I want it back.
I’m hurting so bad right now and I really wish I could get over it and stop. I’m disappointed in myself for letting him get to me that much. I’m better than this. Surely I’m stronger than this? What the hell is fuelling my fire for him, rather than putting it out? Have you ever had that one guy that you pined for? Not just pined for; I mean really piiiiiiiiiiiiiined for. I wish I could tell him how I really feel. I want to tell him how much I miss him. I want to tell him that the fact he never said goodbye fucking broke my heart. I want to tell him that I still think he was “the one”
I want him to know how hard it has been to get over him, and that I don’t think I ever will. He’ll always be the one that got away. He should know how many songs remind me of him – I won’t give up by Jason Mraz, We found love by Rihanna feat. Calvin Harris, Hey lady by Thriving Ivory, Call me maybe by Carly Rae Jepson, Count on me by Default … This list could go on for some time. Every single one of the songs that destroy me now once held a memory so precious I wanted it to be embedded in my heart forever.
I think he has a right to know that me wanting his happiness is a long way off, and as much as I pretend I am happy that he has found someone on the outside, I hope she eats him up and shits him out just like he did with me. I want him to know how beautiful he always was to me, even if his worst of states. I want him to know that he drove me insane with just one kiss. I want him to know that he was everything I could ever have wanted in a man + one awful drug habit I most definitely didn’t sign up for.
I wonder if he remembers that it’s now our anniversary. I bet he does – he always remembered things like that. For our six month anniversary, we were on my side of the world. He waited for me to get home from work naked on the bed, rose petals and candles everywhere, strawberries and squirty cream all over him. He had written a note about why he loved me on a piece of paper on every single one of the stairs leading up to my bedroom. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. Unfortunately, I was two hours late home from work because my sister (who worked with me) had an unsightly swollen insect bite on her foot and it swelled up so big, she couldn’t drive home. I got home, turned him down and went to have a shower. I don’t know why I did that. He always did things like that at the beginning of the relationship. It didn’t last that long though; the romantic phase of our relationship.
I looked at his Facebook today, and she has written on his wall twice. She’s a once a week poster-kinda gal – I wonder if the two posts were for my benefit? I once again realize that the Big Love and everything about him is sending me into a new spiral of crazy. I’m not even that bothered about One Ball at this point – I’m glad he’s away. One less fucktard I need to bother myself with. Because let’s be honest; you know he’s going to screw me over in one way or another.
That song, by Jason Mraz, was “our” song. The Big Love and I, I mean. It was our song. My Best Girlfriend on the other side of the world showed me this song when I was at a point of determination that our relationship was going to work, and I wasn’t going to let his drug problem get the better of us. At the time, I don’t think I realized the significance of the song, which is funny because I don’t think he would ever have realized that this would end up becoming “our” song either. To this day, it has become a song significant in our breakup – me being determined to carry on, and him determining to give up. Just one beat from this song is enough to have my heart feel as if it were being crushed.
That song wasn’t that big when I left the other side of the world; not that many people had heard it. Over here, however, back on MY side of the world, it is EVERYWHERE I fucking go! The contestants on X Factor are singing it every five minutes, and it’s on every TV commercial I seem to hear. I quietly flick through YouTube and BAM! There it is again! So what happens from here? Well, when I am reminded of anything about him, including this damn song that I once used to love; I get into this fury-bred Facebook stalking session of him. And so it begins…
She’s still leaving all these gay messages on his wall, and he’s not responding to them nearly as much as he should being her boyfriend and all. I think they must have broken up a while ago as well, as there were some posts by her removed, and it would seem that she was removed from his Facebook relationship status for a while. And, according to her shitty little comment on a photo he shared, they are “getting a house soon”. You will know if you have read some of my other posts, (He’s Buying a House) that the fact they are even thinking about house buying, grips my heart with an iron fist and causes me to go into a mini breakdown. Guess this means they are back together again now. I’m trying to ignore that comment. Clearly it was for me to see – no person in their right mind would randomly post that on a picture he had shared without meaning for it to be seen by somebody. My crazy lady side is determined that this was for my benefit. My crazy lady side is also adamant that this relationship is doomed and will fall apart. Clearly they’ve broken up once, and they have only been dating since around March time, so about 8 months. That’s not a good start, that’s for sure. Secondly, he’s an emotional fucktard and he WILL fuck it up. Thirdly – why would I even care? He’s not my fucking problem anymore!
These Big Love rants are really starting to piss me off, and I’m actually concerned that I’m no longer a grieving ex-girlfriend that’s having a meltdown a few months too late; I’m the crazy bunny boiler that all the guys talk about. I’m concerned that I’m the girl that finds a new level of crazy.
In two days, it would have been our three year anniversary. I would advise you stay away from my blog at these points – it’s going to get snotty, that’s for sure. I’m already struggling. Our two year anniversary was a massive one for us. When we first started to have our problems in the relationship, around June last year, we made a pact – if things hadn’t improved by our two year anniversary; six months later, we would part ways. We desperately made changes to the relationship, and the only drawback was we weren’t making the same efforts at the same time. I’d get in from work and be grumpy and pissed off and he’d be cooking dinner, dancing and singing around the house. I tried to explain to him that when I got home from work, I need half an hour just to drink my cup of tea, get all my anger out, and calm down. I worked for very demanding people. He didn’t get it.
I’d get up early in the morning to make his food for him to take to work, and he’d be as miserable as sin. I’d be horny, he’d be grumpy, I’d be up, he’d be down… Can you see the pattern here? We just weren’t “synced” within our relationship anymore. A few times he threatened to give up before our two year anniversary, but I managed to persuade him we should give it a shot. And vice versa when I was adamant we were over. We did try I guess… Just not good enough. We didn’t learn enough about each other again to give it a good enough shot. We had already destroyed it, and were incapable of getting it back together again. Imagine if we had given it one more chance. Imagine if I hadn’t have gotten on those flights and came home. Would things be any different? Did we just need to give “us” longer to settle back down again? Naaaah. Things would have been the same – we would have gone around in the same coke-induced life circles we always did. As much as I miss the guy, even I’m not stupid enough to think that we ever would have been able to make it work the second time around. Our relationship wasn’t a “real” one from the start – we met in a war zone, I was still with my husband, then I was back home and he was still out there, then he came to me for two months, then we travelled to the other side of the world. It was when we moved into our own little crib that things started to really fall apart, if we are being totally honest.
Nothing about our relationship was “real” or “normal” from the start – it was a whirlwind, fantasy style relationship that was clearly rebounding for both of us, and it never should have lasted as long as it did. I loved him, I still love him, but it was the situation we really fell in love with; not each other.
He loved the fact I was British, I loved the fact he was from the other side of the world. I loved that we met in a war zone; he loved that I could do all the things that he did, and more. He loved that I was innocent to his way of life; I loved the new life he was offering me. See the pattern here – we fell in love with the situation, not each other at all. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t regret any of it for an instant. The thing I do regret is falling so deeply in love with him. When we met, he really was my knight in shining armor and he saved me from a life that I was struggling to survive in. Again – I fell in love with what he could offer me, not necessarily for who he was.
Still doesn’t make it hurt any less though, does it?
So, continuing on with my two week break-up course, I watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall. To be honest, I couldn’t really take this one seriously as I have a serious thing for Russell Brand, and I laughed most of the way through it. However, I did empathize with the blubbering mess that was trying to forget her, except I hide my blubbering mess away in my room so that people can’t see it. With the exception of you guys, of course.
I’m having a really hard time right now. I’m not sure if it is because I’ve been plan-less all weekend, or because I’m a bit lonely, but I’m reminiscing. A LOT! I had a look back through last year’s Facebook posts and it has hit me like a ton of bricks. This time last year, my best girlfriend from the other side of the world took me to a movie so that she could tell me she was pregnant. I’m anti-baby, and have been for some time, and she knew that having the kid would change the dynamic of our friendship. I knew she had been planning on having a family in the future, but an accident happened and she was happily married and all that so I was happy for her. I left a few months after she told me anyway.
This time last year, I dressed up and went to a Halloween party on the other side of the world without The Big Love. We were fighting, he went away to work, and I went to the party on my own. I was surrounded by couples the entire night, and I felt like a spare part.
This time last year, we were making up and breaking up every couple of days. It went like this – he went out on a bender for a few days, getting drugged up to the eyeballs and breaking up with me so that he could do whatever it was he wanted. Then he had a come down after the drug fuelled few days and realized that he wanted me to “help” him to get over the drugs and make him a better person. We would be fine for a few days, perhaps a week or so, and then it started again – he went out and got drugged up and broke up with me….. It was a nasty, vicious circle, and one that I’m not sure either of us thought we would get out of at the time.
It was brutal. It hurt a lot. I spent a lot of this time last year crying my eyes out to the best friend over there that, by this point, had been telling me to leave him for some time. She tried to persuade me to move into hers, as did both of my bosses. I wasn’t having any of it. I could help him. I was going to make him better. We were going to be OK. What a total idiot I was.
Drugs have a funny way of changing someone. He wasn’t the person that I fell in love with. He was nasty and evil, and ended up in this spiral of drugs and drink, surrounded by fellow druggies, that he couldn’t get out of. He spent a lot of money. He lost his job. It was the scariest time in my life. I was on the other side of the world, away from my family and friends, trying to make a life with someone that was adamant on pressing the self-destruct button. I don’t know if he still does drugs now, but I’m hoping for his sake, and the sake of his girlfriend’s that he isn’t. I’ve been told by a few people that he looks tired and pale when they’ve bumped into him, but he works a lot of hours so this could mean anything.
I can’t exactly remember when it was, but I think it was around this time last year that he started seeing someone else. I had found two cups in my house during a period of us breaking up and asked him about it. He said it was nothing. Then my best girlfriend told me that her friend had seen The Big Love arm in arm with another girl at the movies. This broke my heart. I knew we had broken up again, but I wasn’t aware that we were seeing other people. It crippled me, and it was at this point that I knew we would never really recover. She went to our gym, and once we had gotten back together again, I told him that I didn’t want him going to that same gym when she was there, and if them bumping into each other was going to be a recurrent thing, that he would have to move gyms. He refused. It was my problem, apparently; therefore I was going to have to deal with it. In reality, he was right. I should have left him when he started seeing someone else. Unfortunately for me, this wasn’t the last girl.
There was another one that he started seeing when we broke up for the final time. This one was another situation entirely, a few months later. He used to dirty talk with her on the phone while I was in the house and I could hear him. I could have opened my mouth so that she could hear me, but she didn’t know I was still living there, or anything about me, and he told me if I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, I would have to move out there and then, rather than waiting a few weeks until I had enough money put together to pay for both my flights and sending my stuff home.
The last couple of months that I was there was the worst. I started sleeping on the sofa every night, and only when he was away working for longer periods of time, did I dare to get in the bed. All of my stuff had been moved to the spare room, and I had to get used to the fact that he now had another girlfriend. I had already booked one flight and missed it because he had asked me to stay, but the final flight I booked was the flight I actually left on.
From about this time last year until February, I spiraled into a circle of desperation. Every time he told me we could get back together, I clung onto any last hope like a desperate girl drowning. We had a few good weeks between now and the time I left – we went snowboarding and had an awesome day, we spent nights together, got drunk together, cuddled up on the couch together…. It was full of trouble however. Every time we went to certain bars or clubs, other girls that he had been seeing/talking to/texting came up to him, putting themselves on a plate for him, and he didn’t care that I was there.
I slept with someone else; two people in fact, and I hated every second of both of them. He was all I wanted. People kept telling me to go out there and date, so I did. I joined an online dating site in the periods that we were apart, and I slept with other people. The only person I could think about was him. Well, the “him” that I fell in love with anyway. I don’t think he knows I slept with other people. He was aware that I was leaving the house on what he thought were dates, but I don’t think he thought I had what it took at the time to actually fuck another man. In reality, he was probably right. I might have been there in body, but in mind I most definitely wasn’t.
The drugs changed him so much that he was barely recognizable by the time I left. He had turned into a compulsive liar, not only to me but to his friends and family as well. I had told his Dad about his drug problem, scared that I was unable to keep a hold of it anymore, and he lied to his Dad. Even when he lost his job, he told me not to tell anyone why he had lost it and kept telling people different stories. These stories soon caught up with him, of course, and people started asking me about it. I was torn between lying for the man I loved, and wanting people to know how bad things really were. He had been bad-mouthing me to everyone, and as much as I know I made mistakes at this point in our relationship, and probably said a few things I didn’t mean, I definitely didn’t deserve the backlash for his drug induced mistakes.
He started playing with my head. We bought a trailer for the sleds and he took me along with him to get it, asking me to name the new sled, kissing me and cuddling me, telling me that he still thought I was “The One” and that he was never going to let me go. He was going to change, and he was going to go back to the man I had fallen in love with, as long as I went to the gym and started working out. I agreed with this – I had put on some weight, especially during these final few months. It’s funny because the last few weeks I was there, I barely ate, I barely slept, and I drank a lot so I ended up losing a lot of weight in a very short time period.
One day he loved me, the next he couldn’t stand to be in the same house as me. This went on for a while until eventually; we couldn’t be in the same house at the same time. When he was home, I got in from work and went straight downstairs until he went to bed, and then I went upstairs to sleep on the couch. Honestly, this was the worst I had ever felt in my life. I started cutting myself again, (a story that we will go into another time) and I could see myself falling apart. I wasn’t sleeping properly, I certainly wasn’t eating hardly anything, and I couldn’t handle the situation anymore. By this point, I had stopped telling people about what was going on. I was leaving as soon as I could afford to, and it was over.
I think the thing that makes all of this the hardest, and also possibly the reason I can’t seem to get over him, is that I left a completely different person to the one I fell in love with. The guy I fell in love with was romantic, adorable, a great lover, hilariously funny, had great morals, and actually gave a shit about other people. The guy I left was bitter, mean, angry, and nasty, blamed me for his drug problem, did whatever he wanted and didn’t care who he hurt in the process. It was as though I had fallen in love with Dr. Jekyll and left Mr. Hyde. I know this is probably the case with a lot of relationships, but this was something else. The Hubby, for example, was an asshole throughout our entire relationship; I just chose to ignore it and thought I could make him a better person. I’m THAT girl that thinks she can turn a bad guy into a good guy. It never works, ladies; never fall for it.
So here I am. Reminiscing about things that happened a year ago today, still incapable of getting over a man that quite spectacularly ripped my heart to shreds. In all honesty, I don’t think it’s entirely him. I think my heart has had enough of being pulled from pillar to post; bad relationship after bad relationship; more dramas in every one than the ones before. My poor heart has been through it all. It has been cheated on, lied to, beaten up, destroyed by drugs, ripped apart by broken promises, and now it has finally realized that love hurts. Even now though, I can’t hate those guys. I can’t hate The Big Love even though I really wish I could. I still love him. The guy that could make me pee my pants with laughter. The guy that could make my knees buckle from a single kiss. The guy that could give me goose bumps all over just from the way he looked at me, and managed to make me feel completely safe even in the most dangerous of situations. Drugs destroyed that guy. Drugs and the failed relationships before me. He once told me that whenever he gets to the two year anniversary mark of any relationship, he falls apart and destroys it. He starts taking drugs again, cheats, lies, and hurts the girls that he is with. Guess where we were in our relationship. Yep, you guessed it – just coming up to two years when it all started kicking off. He predicted the end of our relationship right at the beginning, yet still I threw myself into it. I thought I was the one girl that could change him. And once again, I was proven wrong.
Today I decided upon another breakup film. I’m slowly working my way through the list I should have gone through when The Big Love and I first broke up.
Sunday – 500 Days of Summer
Monday – The Holiday
Tuesday – Closer
Why am I doing this? Because I can. Because I have to. Because I’m driving myself crazy with my pathetic obsession over The Big Love and I am determined to get him out of my system once and for all.It’s been 8 and a half months and this has to stop. Now.
I had originally planned to spend the next two weeks making my way through the breakup list of films, crying myself to sleep, and getting him out of my system. Today I made progress; I threw away the cards. You know the ones – the birthday cards, Christmas cards, valentines day cards… I threw them all out today. Next would be the letters. Some day soon, but not today. The cards were purging enough.
Anyway, my plans were somewhat skuppered last night because One Ball came over. He came over and we fucked. As much as I like this guy, last night he was my toy. Nothing more, nothing less.
Within minutes of him being here, we were making out. A few minutes more and we were naked. Now I don’t know what it is about this guy, but I’m a different person when I’m with him. I don’t know if I’ve built up some confidence, or just act differently because he’s someone new, but sex with the lights on doesn’t terrify me with him. In fact, I love it!
The usual games commenced – his wandering hands slid into my wet underwear and got me off….twice! It was good and it was hard. It’s been a while since my last sexual escapade, which is probably the reason behind the obsession with The Big Love again. I digress… My jeans came off, his top too. It was impatient – his jeans were halfway down his legs and my sweater still on when the games began. He tried to go down on me, but yet again I said no. The ropes came out… He wanted to tie me up. Still I said no. I probably would have let him go down on me if he had been more persistent. Instead, we settled on a compromise. He teased the fuck out of me. He held my hands above my head by the wrists and told me he was in charge. He wouldn’t let me kiss him…. He was right there and he wouldn’t let me! It drove me crazy. His cock was just there; he was millimetres away from entering me and he waited for what felt like an eternity. Then I felt it…. One fucking hard thrust; it hurt and I loved it!
From there, things are a blur. He fucked me hard, and rolled me over. I rode him hard and I came hard. I was over the bannister, (I have an attic bedroom) and then I was hanging out of the skylight window while he pounded me from behind. Then we found my computer chair. I rode him facing away from him, then he turned me around and I was straddling him. My hands were tugging at his hair, and his hands were pulling mine. He bit my collarbone and growled at me again – “I’m still in charge!” It took an age and he didn’t cum. We decided to stop for a breather; I had a smoke and he had a drink. He said that he had stopped himself from cumming within a minute of being inside me, and now he was struggling to cum. I asked him why? I had already cum twice before he even fucked me; it was Okay for him to be quick. If I hadn’t cum, it would have been a different matter. He said he wished I had told him that before. We spooned for a bit, and then I did the “Butt nudge.” You know the one – you nudge your ass towards his cock and hope he takes the hint. He did. Within a few minutes, we had both cum and stayed there for a few minutes, basking in the scent of our own sex.
The other thing that amazes me about being with One Ball is how comfortable I feel after we have fucked. I was naked; he was naked, and we just laid there for a while, letting our breathing subside, our bodies intertwined. He kissed my neck, and I held his hand. He’s into me. I can tell. How can I tell him that last night was just about sex? Fucking amazing sex, I’ll give him that, but sex still the same. There was no feeling, just pure unadulterated passion. His back had my scratch marks everywhere. There was a bite mark that I left on his chest. His shoulders had blood where I had dug my nails in, and his hair was disheveled from me tugging at it with fury. It was a war zone. A delicious war zone.
It was good – I needed to get some Big Love tension out, and One Ball was my punch bag. I feel bad for him really, he doesn’t know what is going on in my head, or how much I’m using him. He’s the guy I can have angry, passionate sex with, and he thinks I’m the girl he’s going to fall for. He’s already told me how much he is into me, and how much that scares him. I’m going to break his heart, and if I’m brutally honest, I’m not really that bothered. I didn’t realize I had this wealth of anger within me, and the only way that I seem to be able to get it out, without hurting myself, is by hurting someone else. For the moment, its during vicious sex, but after that….? Who knows?
Could I eventually learn to turn this great sex into something more? There are other factors behind me not wanting more with him – the fact he has kids, the fact he doesn’t want anymore, My Mr. Grey, he’s only here on a course…. Ideally I should tell him that we have no chance of going any further but I can’t do it. Nor do I want to.
What kind of a person have I become? I can tell you what I have become. The line I just head in the film “Closer” has summed it up in one sentence – “You fucked up slag”
Do you want to know something? I’ve realized that I’m not looking for a relationship. That’s why My Mr. Grey and I aren’t in a real relationship yet. I’m not ready. That’s why The Guy I Couldn’t Get Rid Of wasn’t enough, and The Lapdog before him. In reality, I’m not a “fucked up slag” like he said in the film – I’m a girl that has experienced a wealth of pain, over and over again,and I want to have nasty, passionate, angry sex with a man that’s going to give me that without commitment. I want the best of both worlds – sex that you would normally only get in a relationship, minus the relationship. I guess I’m just trying to fuck The Big Love out of my system. And every other asshole before him that fucked me up.
It’s Sunday night, I’m tucked in my bed at midnight, watching 500 Days of Summer. Why am I watching this film? Because Google tells me I should do. According to the “Rules of a Breakup”, you need to cry, get angry, and watch a series of breakup films. I’ve not really done those things, and it seems I’m no closer to being over The Big Love than I was 8 months ago, so I’m giving it a bash. 500 Days of Summer… Bring it on.
It had me thinking; how long does it take to get over someone? Reports seem to suggest half the time you were with them, but I don’t think this is strictly true. The Big Love and I were together for two years, but the last four months of that two years we weren’t really together – it was on and off; more off than on. Technically we were probably only together for say 20 months. Then there was that month we broke up at the beginning of the relationship too, so 19 months. Which means that after 9 and a half months, I should be over him. It’s 8 and a half months and I still feel the same tug on my heart strings when I see messages on Facebook between him and his girlfriend that I felt 6 months ago.
Should it still hurt this much? Personally, I blame The Perfect Penis post for this latest rant. Him and his damn perfect penis.
The good thing about our breakup was that I moved to the other side of the world, back to where I originally came from, and cut all communication. There have been a few messages exchanged; nothing exciting. You’ll know them if you’ve read previous posts. Despite the fact that I didn’t go through the post breakup heartache of seeing him/texting him/ bumping into mutual friends etc, I still hurt. It still hurts. My heart hurts. I think I’m over it every now and again and then something will come up and it hurts again. First it was the perfect penis post. Then it was the letter I wrote to him that I found on my hard drive – the one I never gave him but probably should have done. Then I put some paperwork away and I found an old letter from him. A letter that said “I will love you forever” If only I had known at the time “forever” meant “until I get bored”
I never got the chance to say goodbye. He knew I was leaving; I had my flight booked and my bags packed. That night I got home from work, and he left. I finished packing and my girlfriend picked me up and took me to hers. We watched The Holiday and I cried. I cried a lot.
I never said goodbye. I never got to see if he had tears in his eyes, or any sense of sadness for our parting of ways. I never got to see any hint of regret, loss, grief…. It was probably for the best. If I had seen tears in his eyes, I would have clung on to anything and we were most definitely over. Did he leave because he couldn’t bear to see me leave? Or did he genuinely not care?
I will never, ever forget that feeling that rushed through me when I carried my last bag to the car, shutting the door behind me and leaving my key in the mailbox. It was panic, fear, excitement, intrigue, sadness, anger, hopefulness all at once. Was he going to stop me? Was he going to come to my friends house? What about the airport, true romantic film fashion? Was he going to realize a week after I had gone home and flown to the other side of the world to get me back? Did we just need space? Were we really over?
5am came and I got dressed for the airport. Still no sign of him.
I got on the first flight. No call, no text, no sign of him.
I got on the second flight. Nothing.
I got on the third flight. Zilch. We were really doing this.
I got home. Nothing.
The second day I got a text – “Glad you got home Ok”
That was it…? Two years, no goodbye and that shitty text? Fuck him.
8 and a half months later and I still haven’t had the surprise knock on the door, text message or call. I think the time has finally come to start believing we are really over. 8 and a half months of Facebook stalking, not enough crying, too many thoughts and too much hopefulness. God I’m ridiculous.
On the plus side, I’ve lost weight, found my sense of style again, regained some confidence, and a little bit of happiness. The last 8 and a half months have been the driest my eyes have been over recent years, with The Big Love and The Hubby. I guess that says something. I’m not sad these days. That’s a good thing.
One part of my past I haven’t yet shared with you is my sadness; my depression, my self harm and self hate. Another story for another day.
I guess I’m just waiting for that day when I wake up and he doesn’t pop into my mind at least once during the day. It’s happening less, I guess, than it has been. I think One Ball is helping with that, and My Mr. Grey and the Guy I couldn’t get rid of helped before him. I’m just struggling to let anyone into that part of my heart. I don’t think it has been repaired yet, so I can’t offer it out to anyone. It’s just a frustrating process; almost like a waiting game. Surely it won’t go on forever?
So for now, I’m crying while watching 500 Days of Summer and writing the newest pathetic post for my blog. Just a few more months and hopefully this chapter of my life will be over. And that time cannot come soon enough.
My horoscopes have said recently that an old flame would get in touch. I actually thought they were referring to Number 3 from the other night: So I Got Turned Down. Turns out I was wrong. The Big Love got in touch. This was last night and I’m still reeling…
Our old friend and tattoo artist had hung himself. It was a courtesy message. I couldn’t believe it. This guy was so full of life, and such a talented artist; how had this happened? I stalked the Big Love’s Facebook. He had rushed to tell me before he had even said the obligatory RIP message on Facebook! What did this mean? The tattoo artist and I weren’t close. We partied a few times, he did two of my tattoos, the three of us did coke a bunch of times, and I watched a lot of the Big Loves tattoos…. I couldn’t understand why he had felt the need to rush home and tell me about it.
After a wee message frenzy with my one of my girlfriends from the other side of the world, she had thought it was a reason for him to message me without seeming desperate, and that perhaps things weren’t that great with him and his new girlfriend. It was weird however, it was very civil and I sent the last message…
It was our first real conversation since I had left about 8 months ago. It knocked me for six, and now he’s in my damn head. I went through some of our photos later on last night and found a good one of the Big Love and the tattoo artist during one of the many coke filled “inking” parties. I emailed it to him with a message:
Remember the good times.
He had said that he had been ranting on the artist to do a few touch ups and he felt bad about it. They were close at one point, but I didn’t know whether or not they were still close. All I had was the obligatory “I hope you are ok, my heart goes out to you” message. And now he’s in my head. I thought One Ball had given me the big crush I needed for just now, but now he’s like the smallest thing in the world to me. The Big Love is all I can think about. Why did he message me? How is he? What’s going on with him? Should I message him again to find out if he is OK? What the fuck am I doing? This guy ripped my heart to shreds, and I’m letting him work his way back in. The worst of it is he probably doesn’t even know it!!!!
Why am I putting myself through this again? Getting over him was the hardest thing I have ever had to do, and I’m not even there yet! Why am I letting him get into my head? Why? I dreamed of him last night. It was a good dream. We were happy on the couch that WE bought, wrapped in the blanket that we ALWAYS snuggled up in, watching the TV that I had helped him hook up. Fuck him. And fuck those happy memories. Where’s my One Ball or My Mr. Grey when I really need them?!?
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….
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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?
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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
Not So Sex in My City! 