Delayed Reaction

If there’s one thing I should have learned about myself that I haven’t is that I often get delayed responses to things. No surprise since I do certain things by the seat of my pants, like getting a tattoo the day after I’ve drawn it for example. In this case, it’s The Frenchman. Yes, him again. I’ve been feeling fantastically low for a good few weeks now and it’s not letting up. I think it kicked in properly when I was feeling ill and spent a whole day crying like a demented baby. Since then, it’s come in waves. Today was a bit shit, really. Things like listening to music, any music, is disgustingly horrible, but I still do it because, well. It’s music. And I can’t live without it, which is why I’ve got music stuff incorporated into tattoo number 5. I’d love to share pics but I can’t because…well. Anonymity and all that malarkey. Even the fact that it’s my birthday tomorrow and I’ll hit the big 2-9 is just….meh.

What didn’t help, was that I met with The Ex yesterday. Since we’ve missed each other at a mutual friends’ last couple of gatherings by an hour or so and we’ll both be going to a christening next month, I thought it a good idea to get the first meet out of the way instead of doing it in front of everyone. It was fine. We had a drink and a bit to eat. He’s doing well, still with his girlfriend and apparently less on the coke, more on the gym. It wasn’t particularly awkward, though he did bring up ‘us’ a few times. But I sat there, opposite him and thought, I spent 9.5 years with you…how? There were absolutely no residual feelings on my part, which was good, but all I could think about was The Frenchman, and how their qualities were so different. This feeling I have now is way deeper than the regret and sickly ugh-ness I felt after The Ex. And I didn’t like that. Nor did I like the fact that as soon as we walked into the pub, ‘Lights Out, Words Gone’ by Bombay Bicycle Club came on. It’s a song that made me cry the first time I heard it, just because I think it’s beautiful. And all that was in my head was lying on a hotel bed, listening to it in Toulouse with The Frenchman. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard it played anywhere at all.

Sigh.

I hate this about myself. I hate that I feel things way later than I should. I hate that things might have been different if I’d have voiced my concerns before throwing my toys out of the pram. He’s since told me that there was no conspiracy for me to not to meet his friends. The first few times he wanted to spend time alone with me and the last time, they were busy. It was a major bone of contention for me and perhaps, if I’d have just said, I’m not happy with this, I’d have made a different decision.

I dunno. I miss him, a lot. And when he comments on my Facebook update leaving a trail of kisses in caps, it really hurts. For the first time, I can understand why people choose not to to keep in touch with exes, because it hurts more than it helps.

Oh well. As Freddie Mercury said, show must go on.

Advertisements

Slacking

It’s been a while since I last posted, I’ve been ridiculously busy and the thought of blogging is something that seems to pop into my head right as I’m drifting off to sleep.

Works picked up and on top of that, my degree starts this week. I got my itinerary whatsit and boy, I didn’t think it would be so much reading. I mean, I knew there would be reading of course but…gulp. So I’ve been navigating my way around the student homepage, getting myself sorted and actually studying. Cripes.

Easter was lovely. Friday’s drinks with Miss America went from quiet to mental, with us partying with her sister and friends and to top it off, her phone got lifted from her bag at the end of the night which was all shades of shit. It was a fun night though. I didn’t get to sleep until 6am and we left at around 8am. Saturday was literally spent in bed hanging out my arse thanks to the vodka I’d drunk. How can a bar not have white rum? Both of us got too drunk too early but a couple of lemonades sorted that out. The trick is to sober up a bit and then get back on the booze. I’ve had four days of lounging around, sleeping in late and now I have to go back to bloody work. Boooo.

Things with The Frenchman are officially over. All ended in little more than a poof. In the end, it seemed like he was waiting for me to tell him what to do, so I said we should stop. Time for me to be selfish and put my needs first, regardless of how nice a time we shared when we did get together.  No great drama, but there it is. I’m sure we’ll keep in touch sporadically but I’m not bothered about that coming to an end, something I can only put down to the distance and how long its been since we last saw each other.

And god, do I need to get laid. Back to the single life, ho hum. I’m still chatting to the guy I met at the house party a couple of weeks ago. I’ll call him The Boxer. He’s cool enough, funny, yada yada yada, ticks the boxes most men seem to in the beginning so we’ll see if he can provide some distraction to my seemingly now boring life. Actually, April is shaping up to be quite busy socially, not least because it’s nearly my birthday. Yay!

And, I’m booking my flight and accommodation for the first leg in France this week. Fabulous. Things are looking up.

Now, I’m off to watch Cinderellela. Don’t judge me.

x

That thing between life and death…what a bitch!

These are the words of a text I received from The Ex today. What a headfucker of a day. At 4.15am, my phone buzzed and woke me up – which doesn’t often happen. It was a text from my Ex (a particularly boisterous text) followed by another asking for me to call him. I replied, asking if his text was meant for me. No, was the reply. Fair enough. I turned around to fall back asleep, and then my phone rang. What followed was a 3 hour conversation.

We covered a lot of ground. Initially, he was calling because a mutual friend of ours (ish) had told him I was doing coke, sleeping with his friends etc etc. I know who he was talking about and I don’t understand why she’s saying this. I haven’t done coke. I tried a little on my gums on a night out with Mr Music because I wanted to know what the fuss was about. It was disgusting. And I’d told my friend this while we were talking about coke in general. As for me sleeping with his mates, well. I haven’t! One of them tried it on with me, twice, but I said no. Furthermore, the friend of his who tried it on is now sleeping with the friend whose been stirring shit. Lastly, I wouldn’t dip into that genetically inbred pool if you paid me. So, of course, I told him all this. He said he believed me, he just couldn’t understand why she was saying these things. The conversation then covered our relationship, our new relationships and everything in between.

The worst thing he said, was that this time last year, when I was begging and dying for him to take me back, he said no because he didn’t want to feel like I was doing it out of pity for him and the way he acted when I left him. He wanted me to take the time to really think about what I wanted, but that he did want to get back together. That hurt. A lot. I don’t know how I could have made it any clearer that I wanted him back. When he left me crying until I thought I’d vomit up my insides, twice. When I’d call and text and call and text. I don’t understand how he could have thought it was pity. He said saying no was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. I felt incredibly sad and I told him that. Throughout our relationship he could be the master manipulator. He could pull anyone’s strings and have them marching to the beat of his drum. But there’d be times he’d do things and I wouldn’t understand why. He used to tell me he wanted me to figure out the reasons why instead of him telling me. He said, that there were certain things in life that he didn’t want to influence people over, so he would do things without explanation to make them think about why he was doing what he was doing. And if that sounds complicated, it’s because it was. I don’t know how many times I’d told him while we were together not to do this. I could never figure it out and it inevitably led to arguments. It seems that him rejecting me, almost a year ago to the day, was borne out of the same idea. He said he wanted me to want to be with him (which he would know was for real after a period of absence), and make that want known, followed by ‘hint, hint, nudge, nudge’. He said there was one point when we’d met and I was so upset, but I still couldn’t tell him I wanted to come back. And that even now, he knows I wouldn’t be able to say that, even if that’s what I still wanted because I’m that stubborn.

It was a hard conversation. Very emotional, very deep. Despite that, we still laughed like we were old friends. He told me I sounded strong and sexy, like the 17 year old girl he fell in love with and not the 27 year old woman who left. He told me he wanted me to give 100% of myself to the next guy, like I didn’t with him. And for his part, he told me about what he’s been up to. About his relief at easily being able to make a woman come in bed, which he did maybe three or four times with me, though not through lack of trying. In fairness, his new girlfriend sounds nice  enough. It sounds like she’s giving him everything he wants and was never able to get from me. We spoke about friends we used to hang out with. His best friend (who’s friends with Gym Buddy and the reason we met in the first place) is back with his girlfriend. When they were together, we all used to hang out. I really liked her and then when they split (in a particularly nasty fashion), I never heard from her again. I actually contacted her again this year and we swapped a couple of emails before she dropped off again. Turns out they’re back together now after being apart for a couple of years and expecting a baby. I don’t know why but that news really got to me. In my head, we were always going to be the ones to do that first. We were always the couple our friends used to talk about as the pinnacle of what relationships were. Hard, yes, but solid. Which was the case for many years. We were meant to get married first, have kids first. Now, that’s happening to them instead of us. He said the same thing, that I was meant to be the grandmother of his grandchildren and now that’s not going to happen. In the end, he started to get upset and said he had to go, at 7.30am.

I was confused. I was tearful and I was sad. He was such a huge part of my life for so long and I couldn’t understand, why now? Why are you telling me this now? We’ve had comms throughout the year, it’s not like this was the first time we’d spoken since the split. We ended up texting until around midday. What have I deduced from this?

He feels regret. He says he thinks he loves his new girlfriend, but she isn’t me. I almost felt like sending him the link to my post about moving on. He said he felt like he’d ruined me and it had been playing on his mind for a long time. That he felt I’d become someone else as a result of what went on during our relationship. To be honest, I think he felt guilt. He’s really into his new girlfriend but it isn’t the same. He said that a lot. The sex is great, but it’s not you. She’s very reactive, but she’s not you. She’s great, but she’s not you. I told him that of course it’s not the same. It’s not meant to be. But if he really likes her then he owes it to her and himself to really try, instead of holding onto memories of what we had. He said he’s learned a lot from our break up (though he’s still on the coke??) and he understands why I left. He doesn’t want me to only tell people about the bad times because he has apparently never badmouthed me. To his friends, to his new girlfriend. It sounded a lot like a case of ‘what could have been’. ‘If only’. If only he hadn’t of played this mind game with me last year. If only I’d have tried for one more week to get him back. He sounded like he didn’t know what he wanted. He said he didn’t know what he wanted. Distracted by memories and nostalgia and I told him that it wasn’t fair to put me through this just because of those two things. He replied by saying he thinks he knows what he wants, he just hadn’t properly dealt with things until today. And knowing that I’m happy makes that easier. I’ll always be the love of his life and even though he’s old school and therefore bound to hate The Frenchman or anyone else, he’s also an adult and wants me to be happy.

By the time we said our goodbyes, I felt a bit better. It felt like he just needed to talk some things out and figure things out in his head. And although I shouldn’t be the person he goes to for that, I can’t deny it was nice to talk to him again. Our break up was hard and messy, but the comms we’ve had since then have been friendly enough. After ten years, of course I care about him. Of course I want him to be happy. He’s such a strong person, I know how much it takes for him to talk about his deep feelings, let alone cry. It goes against everything he was brought up to believe, so I knew how much he needed to talk last night.

It’s left me unfocused and with a headache. My trip to the National Gallery turned out to be a waste of time because I couldn’t focus on anything at all. Not because I’m confused about my feelings, or anything like that, but because I’ve been left with this feeling that I can’t describe. This feeling of…..this. I have to agree with his text. Life is a bitch and full of what ifs and regrets. But I do know that this year I’ve been happy. I can’t lay my unhappiness all on him – I know I could have done things differently to make myself happy – but I wouldn’t have done even a quarter of the things I’ve done this year if we’d have got back together. And it’s only after I’ve done said thing that I realise how much I’ve changed since I left. Or reverted back to my old self.

But I still can’t help the feeling that all of this shouldn’t have happened. And because of a massive case of crossed wires, miscommunications etc, it has. And that is such a shame.

My One Year Anniversary

Today I’m celebrating an anniversary of sorts. It’s a year since I left my boyfriend of 9 and a half years. I can’t really celebrate a proper year of singledom since things were very tumultous until the end of December but still, it’s a milestone.

Thinking back on the things I’ve done in the last twelve months, and the things I have to look forward to, is nuts. Aside from the male related activities I’ve enjoyed, I’ve reconnected with old friends, had a fabulous weekend away, started to learn a new language, learned to enjoy my own company, had fabulous nights out, got a step closer to
having my book published and generally had lots amd lots of fun. A
year ago, I’d have said the next year of my life would be much the same as it was then, which was OK. I didn’t realise how much I’d settled for. And now I think, what if I’d have stayed? I’d possibly be a mum, or pregnant. I’d no doubt still be angry at coming second to class A narcotics and I’d think that it was the way the rest of my
life would pan out.

Thank fuck I’m out of that.

I’m not going to deny the months after the break up were hard – at times I literally wanted to die – but now I can actually look back and say I know, without a shadow of a doubt, I made the right choice. I’ve got so much to look forward to. Marseilles, Ibiza, Glastonbury, spending more time with my friends and making lots of new memories along the way. And even better, I know what I want out of a
relationship now, and I know what I absolutely will not settle for.

I have to say a massive, massive thank you to my friends: Miss Sunshine, Miss Yoyo, Miss America and Miss Comeback for their words of advice and support over the past 12 months. I love you all.

Time flies when you’re having fun 😉

The Ex-Factor

So I received a text from my ex a little while ago. Given that I’d seen him on the way to work yesterday I was kind of expecting it. Turns out, he misses me. Finds it hard to understand life without me etc etc etc. Given that I’d have pretty much sold my soul to get back with him at one point, all I could do was shrug my shoulders. The fact he’s still shovelling coke up his nose and living like a party animal speaks volumes, though apparently its because he feels guilty for it taking over our relationship.

Apparently he thought I looked good yesterday (I didn’t) and reckoned it was because I looked more confident. And you know, maybe that’s because I am. It sounds so cheesy, but I feel like I’ve found myself again, and yes, I am confident. I walk around with a smile on my face and a bounce in my step. It would appear that I’m finding this altogether easier than he is.

A month ago, I’d have read into his text messages, thinking, maybe he wants me back. But now, I know better. He’s feeling lonely and has caught a glimpse of me at my best and now he’s thinking about the good times we had together. Nothing more and nothing less. Like I said yesterday, I change my mind more than most girls change their knickers, but I’m not changing my mind on this. Because the fact is, if he loved me, and I mean really loved me, and really missed me and wanted to do something about it, he’d have made changes. He’d stop spending obscene amounts of money on Columbia’s finest and sort himself out. He’d put me first for once. And even if he did, I honestly don’t think I’d go back anyway.

I love my life now. I haven’t felt so happy for a sustained period for years. I feel like for the first time in a long time, I’m excited about things. I want to go out and meet people and have fun instead of being cooped up indoors. I don’t want to have to sit up until stupid o’clock while my boyfriend gets off his nut and chats ten to the dozen. I want to live my life the way I want to.

I think some people find it weird that I can be so OK about everything after such a long relationship, but I genuinely am. I’m not big headed, but I know I have a lot of good qualities about me. I have plenty to offer to the right guy. I’m smart, I’m independent, I have a great job and great prospects, and when I love, I love hard, with everything I have. While I’m sad for him having to block out reality through a haze of Class A substances, I’m not going to sacrifice myself for anyone. Love, I’ve discovered, is not the be all and end all, and in a relationship, it’s most definitely not enough on its own.

I devoted almost 10 years to him, I’ll always love him on some level, he was my best friend and I owe him a lot. If I hadn’t met him, I definitely wouldn’t be in the job I’m in now, since he pushed me to study, and I wouldn’t have met my closest friends. But I deserve  a hell of a lot more than I got. All I can say is that I wish him well.