Complacency

When he broke up with me all I could think about was how happy we could be if we gave things another shot. All the things I needed to ‘fix’ about myself seemed  so easy to do when the relationship was at stake. I thought I could be perfect for him and he would love me the way he did at the beginning – back when he was proud to be seen with me.

When he got back in touch and said he wanted to give things another go I thought that, with a little time, we would fall head over heels for each other again. We’d go back to ‘dating’ and it would feel new and exciting like before. But it’s been a little while now and the reality is that we go days without speaking to each other, we hang out like we’re just friends way too often, he doesn’t kiss me and of course he doesn’t love me.

Why doesn’t he want to kiss me anymore? He wants to see me and make plans with me. He has no problem sleeping with me. He says all the right things… But when it comes down to it, he doesn’t want to kiss me. I mean, he isn’t grimacing everytime I come at him with a pout – he doesn’t seem to mind kissing me back, but the kiss is never his idea.

Now that we aren’t living together we have to schedule time to see each other and my friends who are living with their other halves think this is great – it means planning things and getting dressed for one another – Not sitting around in PJs, eating dinner in front of the TV and nodding off on the sofa, which can easily become the only quality time couples spend together when you both work full time. But that’s not really how it goes. With his (very) busy schedule we mostly just sit at his mum’s house and watch netflix and UFC until the early hours then go to bed. I mean, I can do that and not be kissed at my own house. I don’t mind sitting in infront of the TV on a Saturday night but if I’m not getting any cuddles or even much conversation, why am I there? What’s he even inviting me over for?

I’m not stressing too much over it. It is what it is and que sera, sera. My life doesn’t revolve around him anymore and that’s for the best. I’m just sad to lose that passion and love we once had for each other. The strange thing though, is how normal it seems to be to not be affectionate with one another. Friends in long term relationships tell me they’ll go days without kissing their man. Few of them spend much ‘quality’ time with them at all – choosing instead to go out with friends or something.

Is complacency in a relationship just to be expected? Is every day together just another step toward apathy? Is growing apart the only way to grow?

I love so much the idea of marriage and I crave a deep, passionate, all-consuming, inconvenient love – but it’s hard to believe that this exists without an expiration date. I really hope it can. I hope the relationships that I see are a product of our lifestyle and society and that we can all overcome it. Stop letting everything else get in the way of the one thing that all else seems to fall apart without – that one person in the centre of our universe that,  we’re so used to seeing, often gets looked straight past.

Take it from A&B:

There’s a thing called love, that we all forget…

And it’s a wasted love, that we all regret…

You live your life just once, so don’t forget about a thing called love.

And if you can’t love somebody anymore, fucking let them go find somebody who can. Don’t tease them with netflix and chill and empty promises. Just figure out your damn feelings UGH!

And if anybody else is feeling weird tonight, I highly recommend eating pecan pie and singing along to Above and Beyond, because (despite how I appear in this post) I am sitting here quite content right now. I have gemütlichkeit from my pie ^___^

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October

  

 

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Wicked Stepmother

Why do women think it’s OK to berate me for not wanting children?

I’ve never wanted children. As a child my mum would give me dolls to play with and I hated them. I always played with stuffed animals instead. I remember pushing teddy bears around in the pram she got me. I don’t like children. I didn’t even like them when I was one… And I don’t remember a whole lot from my childhood apart from all the stuffed animals, wondering why my parents wouldn’t buy me an Action Man and dressing up in my mums wedding dress then pretending that I’d ran away from my wedding to join the mafia. I don’t think I was very good at being a child and I have no interest whatsoever in raising one.

My mum always said I’d get over it. She said I’d change my mind when I met the right man… I never understood that. And although meeting my exboyfriend/boyfriend/whatever did change my mind about wanting to get married (although maybe I would have jilted him and entered a life of crime, we’ll never know) I never changed my opinion on kids. In fact, he has a kid already and if anything that just put me off more. Anyway, after seeing how terribly I still react to babies and children in my mid-twenties, when my friends are all getting broody (or up the duff), my mum’s given up hope. She’s accepted that motherhood just isn’t for me; although I suspect part of her still hopes I’ll have a miraculous turnaround.

Now, I’m not like the wicked step mother that my ex boyfriend/boyfriend/what-the-fuck-is-he sometimes like to make out. I’m hideously awkward with kids and will do what I can to avoid them, but I’m certainly not cruel or nasty (however, if you’re a stranger and your child bothers me and I’m not in a rare benevolent mood, I will tell them to go away and make horrible faces at them if they don’t leave me alone immediately). Kids just aren’t for me and that’s that. My friends can accept it, my friends with kids can accept it, my family can accept it… why does it bother people who’s life I am not a part of? Please tell me, angry strangers, why does it effect you? I may also point out that nobody gives a man any grief for having the same attitude toward kids.

Today in work my boss was complaining about not getting any sleep since baby #2 came along. I shook my head and stated that I’ll never understand why people choose to have children (not that baby #2 was a choice, I remember the look on his face the day he told us they were expecting. The look of a broken man regretting the old line ‘but I can’t feel anything when I’m wearing one!’). My colleague, who doesn’t have any children herself at the age of 50 apparently by choice, took issue with this. First she said “Well, if your mum and dad hadn’t decided to have you, you wouldn’t exist.”

…………Eh…yeah.

What’s your point?

Then she told me that there’s lots of reasons people decide to have children:

1. Because they love children
2. Having children enriches their lives
3. To carry on the human race

Wait, what? Couples actually decide to pop out a sprog just in case there aren’t enough humans around already? Hmm not so sure about that one. Yes, of course there’s a biological drive there to reproduce, but I really believe we’re past all of that. If we were simply giving in to our natural instincts then we’d be pregnant every time we’re horny ffs. And why haven’t I, and many other people, got that instinct? No, I believe these days we’re more programmed by society than biology. Anyway I accept that people do want children, and for the reasons above. Most people like kids. Most people want to raise a little clone of themselves. It brings people joy and enrichment along with sleepless nights and shitty nappies. I accept it, but I can’t understand it. I can’t empathise with my friend who chose to give up sunday morning lie ins, afternoon naps, money to spend on herself, holidays where all she’s responsible for is her bar tab, for 4am starts, cycles of sickness (when one gets sick, everybody gets sick), holidays more stressful than staying at home, working a full time job to pay 80% of her wages out to the child minder. I can’t understand it! But that’s what she wanted, that’s what works for her and I accept that. I don’t question her choices, she doesn’t question mine. So why the fuck did my colleague need to argue with me and tell me that I’ll change my mind? The same old “oh I knew somebody who was just like you! And now she has THREE kids!”.

Oh, really? Fuck me! That’s the first time anybody’s ever told me that. This changes everything! Obviously, there are no women in the world who do not have children through choice. How silly of me!

Fucking idiotic. Yes, of course I may change my mind. I might also change my mind about never going to work on a cruise ship, but I don’t hear you arguing with that?? Then the guy in our office says that he doesn’t like kids but he ‘supposes he’ll have them one day to carry on his seed and that’. She didn’t bat an eyelid at that. So, me? I’m stupid to acknowledge that I’m selfish, irresponsible and hate taking care of things therefore should not become a mother to please somebody else, cause I might change my mind (I’ll also require a total personality transplant to successfully raise anything to be mentally stable)! But a man can be totally apathetic towards fatherhood, choosing to reproduce only out of pride and ego, to carry on his ‘legend’ and that’s just totally fine. ‘Cause you know the way men and women have completely different brains and feelings and all that.

A grown woman recently told me that ‘you can’t know what love is until you have your own child’. I know a lady who can’t have children (and chose to tell people that her and her husband just never wanted any) and it breaks my heart to think that there are people out there spouting irresponsible shit like that to people vulnerable enough to believe it. To think that this lady, who really did want kids, has had to listen to the same rants as me and be told time and time again that ‘I knew a woman just like you’ and ‘you’ll change your mind!’, it’s shocking. And it only ever comes from other women. A man has never openly passed judgement on me for not wanting children.

So, ladies who think you’re better than me for having or wanting to have children, and my friend’s middle aged cousin in particular, who started a fight with me at a hen do for not wanting kids because one of her sister’s kids died (?!), get off your high horse and go eat a dick.

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Disclaimer

I am sick of being called naive. Specifically, I am sick of being called naive by men, simply for trusting other men.

I’m naturally a quite guarded person. I don’t open myself up to people straight away. I believe I’m a rather good judge of character and it’s not often I come across someone who I ‘judge’ can handle the true me (i.e. all the hatred and moodiness). I have a small circle of friends and even my best friends don’t know what I really think most of the time. The older I get the less friends I have, c’est la vie; but having been in a serious relationship, almost all male friends have dropped off completely and now, if there is ever any chance of a friendship with a member of the opposite sex, I am naive for thinking – even for a second – that they just want to be friends.

It’s as if every guy I know believes that every other guy is some sort of sexual predator and they themselves are the only decent guy capable of suppressing any sexual urges they may have towards every female they interact with. I’m sick of it!

Am I destined to a life of female-only interactions? Treating men as if they only view me sexually (and be accused of tarring all men with the same brush!)? No, I’m not going to give in to their misogyny. I am not a sexual object and I will not tolerate anyone who sees me that way. I won’t shy away, afraid of giving them the wrong impression – I’ll act like the equal human being I am and set the fucking record straight.

As I said before, I’m a pretty good judge of character and when I first meet people I tend to keep them at arms length. So it is only after some time and consideration that I may entertain the idea of a real friendship with somebody – male or female. I don’t blindly decide to be best mates with every guy that starts acting over familiar with me out of the blue.

Also, guys themselves are aware of how their friendship can come across and this will usually come up in conversation eventually. If they take the time to make it clear to me that they aren’t interested in anything else, why shouldn’t I believe them? What? Are they going to lie to me, hope to become my best friend and find a way to ‘worm their way in’ with me? Who on earth would put that much time, effort and patience into anybody, let alone me? That’s crazy. And I’m pretty sure ‘fuckboys’ (not sure I’m even using that work correctly – it’s just something I keep coming across sur l’internet!) would far rather just move along to somebody they have a better chance with.

That being said, I understand that ‘boys will be boys’ (a ridiculous excuse for misogyny to be acceptable in our society) and yeah, if I offered myself up on a plate for my male friends, most of them would probably take advantage of it (not that I look like a VS angel or anything but when sex is offered up it seems a man’s ‘standards’ go out the window. How else can you explain all the footballers etc who cheat on their lusted-over WAGs with extremely average prostitutes, for example?). But these are friends who also respect me, listen to me, have been there for me when I needed them, and never made a move on me no matter how drunk/vulnerable/any other state that some men use to take advantage I am and the fact is, I’m not offering myself up on a plate. I’m not even flirtatious; I don’t dress provocatively, I’ve never been promiscuous and I know how to say no.

When a boyfriend or friend tells me that I’m stupid for being friends with another male, what is stupid about it? What do they think is going to happen? That I’ll be ‘stupid enough’ to find myself alone with them, they’ll make a move and I will be overwhelmed with their masculinity and willingly yield to their advances? I don’t fucking think so.

Now when this has been an issue with any boyfriends in the past, they all use the line ‘I trust you but I don’t trust him.’ And are they worried that I’m putting myself in danger? That I may be raped? No. They’re worried that I’ll cheat. It’s bullshit. I can understand that they wouldn’t like the idea of me giving a guy the wrong impression, which I strive never to do. If they really do trust me then they should realise that all that’s going to happen when somebody makes a move on me, is that they will be rejected, probably be embarrassed about it and not want to hang around me afterwards. Surely this is only a good thing for the ‘concerned’ boyfriend?

On the other hand… this constant perception of every man as sexual predators does make me second guess their intentions at first. But what should I do about that? Do I have to tell men straight off the bat that I’m not interested, just because I’m female? Does my vagina have to come with a disclaimer?

Recently a guy from work, who I’ve always got along with, started talking to me more and more. Now, I hadn’t told anybody at work about my breakup, but as it had been a few months I guess people began to notice there was no mention of him (which of course would seem odd considering we were living together). So I guess there must have been whisperings of my single status as there was also a rumour that I was going on a date with a 30 yo chronic weed-smoker who’s half my size, who I’ve never even spoke to outside of the office (I should be so lucky…). Anyway this other guy, pretty much the only one there who I have anything in common with (fyi there’s only one other female in my workplace), started talking to me more and more. I admit, I was immediately suspicious; even more so when I heard that he had fallen out with his girlfriend and hadn’t spoke to her in about a fortnight. I tried to make my disinterest clear by telling him to make up with her and showing my disdain when he shook it off like it was no big deal. It genuinely did annoy me – nobody should act as though they don’t care about their partner.

The more we talked about life outside of the office, he was the next one to call me stupid for giving another guy the benefit of the doubt. Stupid to think any man could be just friends with me. But wait, what was he doing exactly? Oh, of course we’re just friends!

And that really should be the case because I certainly do not flirt with him or make any sort of hints that I’m interested and he still has a girlfriend whether they’re arguing or not. It’s not so hard to believe that it’s just nice to talk to somebody who shares interests that your other friends do not and who works with you, so can bitch about the boss and vent after a long working week. So, I’m giving him the benefit the doubt – I’m making a new friend – and I will be called naive for doing so. Because, of course, his penis is just biding it’s time, waiting to pounce from the friend zone *eye roll*.

I’ll just keep going to muay thai to be sure I can fight it off. Or roundhouse kick the next man who laughs at my ‘naïveté’.

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Time to come clean…

So I just typed up a whole post about how busy I’ve been and all the lovely things I’ve been up to… When I called myself on my bullshit and deleted it to tell you the real reason I’ve gone AWOL.

A couple of weeks ago I got a text from him. It was 2.30 a.m. (so I could safely deduce that he’d been drinking) ‘Are you awake?’  Strangely, I had woke up a few seconds before and sat up to look at my phone and check what time it was, just as the text came in (coincidence or sixth sense?!). Anyway, cue hyper-ventilating and my heart almost exploding out of my chest… Was this what I’d been waiting for? When he tells me it’s all been a huge mistake and he loves me and wants to get married and live happily ever after and buy me some louboutins to apologise?! (Too far?) ‘Yes’  I replied, he came back with ‘How are you?’

How am I? You text me at 2.30a.m. on a Monday to see how I am? Nah mate. I replied ‘I really don’t want to make small talk with you. Why are you texting me at 2.30 in the morning?’ , I wasn’t fucking about. But I must have scared him off because he told me to forget it and didn’t reply to me again. Needless to say I didn’t get any more sleep that night, over-analysing every possible meaning The Text could have. The next day, when I showed a couple of friends the messages (god bless screenshots <3), one told me to forget about it and the other told me to chase it up. She said he obviously wanted to speak to me and I’d spooked him off. True, he probably wasn’t expecting my retort. I text him again about 10pm just saying that if he was interested in a real conversation to let me know. Again, he’d been drinking, and sent me all these messages about how he’s missed me, he hasn’t forgotten about me, things are getting harder instead of easier, he’s depressed over it… I’m still baffled by it to be honest. He told me to my face that he will never want to be with me again and he was ready to not have me in his life anymore. I think my brain’s going to mush from the amount of times he’s flipped things on me 180!

He seemed genuinely upset. And it upset me to think of him hurting… Despite this having been what I wanted the past three months – for him to come back and prove it was all real. My heart didn’t flutter the way I thought it would, I don’t want him to be sad. I agreed to meet him the next night.

We met at the beach and sat in my car (no romantic walks for this dysfunctional couple!). Oddly, I wasn’t nervous. And it even felt as if we hadn’t been apart at all… It still felt weird though. Just in a different way. We could be friendly with each other, talk, laugh… but it was weird to just act like friends. It was weird to tell each other about what we’ve been doing without each other. He said he wants to start seeing each other again to see what happens, but there’s no guarantees that he will want to get back together.

This is why I’ve been putting off posting about it – because it sounds so ridiculous for me to put myself in that position again, to risk having my heart broken by the same man a third time. But, of course, that’s exactly what I’ve done. In my defense – so far it seems to be going well. The first time we hugged and then kissed each other again, I really felt as though he had missed me. It felt genuine. Since then we’ve spent time together doing the things we used to love, a fancy lunch in Ox in Belfast, staying up all night with wine and chocolate to watch UFC, a beautiful walk and hot chocolate at Mount Stewart… tonight we went for sushi and then to the cinema, tomorrow we’re having a mini BBQ by the fire pit in his mum’s garden (she’s away on holiday).

My friends have mixed opinions, some think I’m crazy, some are happy and hopeful for me. I’m too nervous to tell my parents… but I’m not sure what’s stopping him from telling his. I guess neither of us know where this is going, which should scare me. It should really, really scare me. But instead I have a fucked up sense of calm… I’m feeling really happy and inspired again. Which makes me mad at myself! I was supposed to be learning to define my self-worth without his opinion. And yet, since finding out that he’s been missing me all this time, I feel like myself again. It’s like when you’ve been out in the cold in the middle of winter and when you come inside and sit by the fire it takes ages before you get the heat into your body again. It’s like thawing out, I’m finally warming up again after months of being out in the cold. It’s so fucked up. Why does he have so much control over my happiness?

Because of this, I’m probably making a huge mistake, but I have to take the chance. Like I’ve said before, I’m a big romantic. Maybe we’re meant to be together. Maybe it’s going to mean taking a big risk, and working really hard, but it’ll be worth it… That much seems clear to me. So why do I feel like I’m doing something wrong? I’m honestly nervous to post this and find out your reactions! I hope to god that isn’t my subconscious trying to tell me something.

I really miss being in love. It feels like I don’t have a choice but to try. But I’ll just be so broken if he can’t love me back.

…

In other news, my new dress is so cute I had to buy it in TWO colours! Check it out, along with pics of my first autumn walk, to make up for the lack of pretty pictures at the beginning of this post (nothing seemed suitable except maybe a picture of a dunce cap!):
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P.S. Dresses are from ASOS btw, cute, right?!

Falafel

UGH I’m trying SO hard to remain positive this week, but missing him is really getting on top of me. I can’t put him at the back of mind even for a second, he’s at the forefront 90% of the day – and the other 10% he’s like, in the second row. It’s driving me insane (dreamt I was a sniper last night, picking off the ‘baddies’ one by one from a seven-storey window; Most relaxing dream I’ve had in weeks).

But I’m not giving up!! It’s only Tuesday for fucks sake, I can at least go half a week without a break down, right? So here is a rambling, rather superficial list of things I have to smile about:

• Planning a trip to Budapest with my friend
• The McGregor-Aldo fight, wherever I end up watching it
• The fact that I have falafel for lunch – fuck yeah
• Checking out a new gym this week with some friends
• Potential trip to southern Spain to learn free diving, if I stop being such a scardey cat – not kidding, I react to water the same way a very fluffy, very angry cat does.
• Legends – the new movie about the Kray twins. Tom Hardy x2?! Yes please!
• Saturday night plans with friends, wine and a big, dirty take away
• My granda’s getting an Alsatian that puppy I can play with
• One of his ponies is also expecting a FOAL!!! Who can’t be happy around a new born foal stumbling around like bambi?!
• Online shopping. As my unemployed brother is always home to let the delivery man in, guess who doesn’t have to fuck around with Tesco anymore? *smug grin*
• An invitation to stay with my friend in London – although she has informed me that our usual drug and alcohol fueled binges will be on hold until she completes a 10k run in November. Ugh.
• Friends who spontaneously send me messages like this to get me through the day: 
• VERY exciting work opportunities
• New shoes – I may not be able to walk in them but I CAN look like a damn queen in them.
• My little black cat (my familiar!) who sleeps at the end of my bed every single night
• A tidy room. Used my half day yesterday to clean up and finally I can see the floor again.
• Spying an awesome bracelet on an American site and finding out that they offer free shipping to Northern Ireland! Like, what?! Some English sites don’t even offer shipping to auld norn iron!
• Unexpected text from a friend inviting me out for coffee tonight

Now that’s a good list! If I don’t cheer up I’m gonna need somebody to hook me up with some Prozac… Not kidding.

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**Sidenote** I wonder how many more hits this blog post would get if I titled it ‘Baby animals & Tom Hardy’??

Girlfriends

Lately I’ve been thinking about soul mates…

As I said a couple of posts ago, “I’m into spiritual shit”. I believe in souls, I believe in soulmates. I believe that you can be in love more than once in life, but there will be ‘the one’, who means more to you than everybody else you’ve ever been with. But in light of recent events, I think that, sadly, when you find ‘the one’, you might not be their one.

It’s only been a couple of months since my breakup so I understand that my feelings may change, but I also feel like I know myself pretty well and I expect that he will always be my one. Although I’ll (hopefully) find love and happiness with someone else, given the choice it will probably always be him. I have an ex, the one who came before him, who told me I was the one. He was not my one, I always knew that. Over 2 years on he has not met anybody else and, when I saw him recently (after barely any contact at all since the breakup), he told me that he will always have feelings for me. He looked at me in a way I hadn’t been looked at in a while… It kills me to think that our breakup may have left him feeling the way I do currently, even just briefly. I wouldn’t wish heartbreak on my worst enemy (and I can be vengeful!).

I used to think that ‘the one’ and your ‘soulmate’ were the same person but as I scroll through Pinterest and Tumblr reading romantic quotes to dwell in my heartache, I’m starting to question that. A soulmate is somebody who knows your soul and accepts you for who you are. They love and support you, they appreciate you, they fight for you, they fight with you, they are there for you no matter what, they don’t try to change you. He didn’t do that for me…

Our relationship had a complicated start, but once we realised we were falling for each other I tried to start things off on the right foot. I was honest with him about my past, my mistakes, misjudgements, regrets. My bad habits, issues, weaknesses. I don’t regret being honest, but it didn’t reward me the way I expected it would. He held all of these things against me. In the end, it came out that he had never trusted me at all because of a mistake I had made years ago, before we even knew each other. He judged me harshly, he criticised me, he didn’t support me through the hard times, he thinks I’m bad. Although, I still believe he loved me, in his own way, in between the criticisms. (Before I paint him as a villian, it’s important to say that he treated me like a queen a lot of the time and I, of course, was not perfect.)

On the other hand, my girlfriends have stuck by me through everything. They have never given up on me no matter what fights we’ve had; never judged me no matter what mistakes I’ve made; never tried to change me and always supported me. What did I do to deserve them? Throughout the breakup, and my consequential break down, they have recognised that I’ve completely lost myself in him. I hate myself because I feel like I am what he thinks I am – bad, untrustworthy, manipulative, controlling, despite how hard I try to be good! My friends have been trying to build me up, telling me he’s crazy. I don’t know who to believe, but either way, I am so damn lucky to have them fighting my corner. Holding me up and holding my hand.

Many of us will be familiar with this quote from Sex and the City:

Maybe our girlfriends are our soul mates and guys are just people to have fun with.

I think Carrie may be on to something. He will always be my ‘one’, but my friends are the ones who have lived through ALL of my bullshit, forgiven me, accepted me and loved me. That sounds like a soulmate to me.

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I’m into spiritual shit

  

I’ve never been one for religion. Growing up in Northern Ireland it’s imposed upon us from the day we start school, if not earlier! I think it’s changed a bit these days but when I was young we had assembly once a week where we all had to recite the Lord’s Prayer, R.E. was a compulsory subject and most kids went to Sunday school. But although I never really questioned it all that much (it was just the norm), it never really resonated with me on any level. Whatever I was taught it just never made sense. I had to sit through a church service recently (family christening) and left with a headache from rolling my eyes so damn hard. It suggested that Christianity is all about sin and shame – and donating your hard earned dolla to the church. Which is cold, by the way, and filled with wooden benches that hurt your ass. Are cushions a sin now too??

Anyway, despite my views on religion, I am not an atheist. I do believe in something, I’m just not sure what (I think that’s called agnostic?). Sometimes I have a feeling like I’ve been here before, like I’ve known people before, experienced things before… Maybe I believe in reincarnation, but when you hear that everybody who has been transgressed was some sort of King/Queen/mighty warrior, like, come on… Was nobody just a joe bloggs? Catch yourself on.

Truth be told sometimes I wish I were religious – I imagine it’s very comforting during the hard times. But for now I’m happy just believing in something. I don’t need to understand it. I’m happy believing in souls, in soul mates, in fate… And that the universe throws me a bone every so often. 

Earlier tonight I decided to go for a walk. I was at my exercise class (HIIT – high intensity interval training, for anybody who’s interested) and I just couldn’t be fucked to be honest with you. It was hard. I mean obviously it’s supposed to be hard, but I just didn’t have the motivation tonight that usually gets me through. I’ve just wanted to cry all day. So, as soon as we stretched off I ran to my car (with more energy than I could muster for any of my exercises) to avoid the friendly chit chat and noticed what a wintry night it was. Not cold, but dull, gloomy, windy, a little rain. I smiled in a melancholy kind of way – I love autumn. I love winter. But I’m dreading spending them alone this year. To me there’s something romantic about cold, dark nights. Excuses to cuddle by the fire, cold kisses on rosy cheeks… Fucksake I’m gonna make myself cry again. BACK TO THE STORY I decided to turn around, park up again and go for a sad little walk instead, feeling a breakdown coming on. Just at the moment I approached the park a figure, that was leaving by another path, looked my way and stopped. There, in the empty, grey, blustery park at the very moment I arrived was one of my best friends.

Now, we live in a small town, so it’s really not that big of a coincidence, but I’d been feeling so low the entire day and struggling to fight back tears that it did seem like a wonderful stroke of luck to find my friend. We walked in the wind and shared our woes, planned a night in next weekend with takeaway and a few bottles of wine, laughed and bitched about what a tough year 2015 has turned out to be. It doesn’t sound like much, but I was so glad of it. Just something as small and simple as that was all I needed to keep the tears at bay for another night. 

As I walked back to my car and looked out across the murky sea, the wind stinging my eyes, I quietly thanked the universe for giving me a wintry night and a warm friend… And when autumn arrives, I will thank it again, this time for candy apples. 

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Ignorance is bliss

I read a post earlier on Ash in search of… (ashinsearchof.wordpress.com) about having good days and bad days when it comes to getting over somebody. I can relate 110% and today is one of my bad days.

After what felt like an eternity in work I finally came home to crawl into bed… For 4 hours. Productive, eh? Reading that post was a comfort in a way, to know that I’m not alone. But solitude, or the lack thereof, has nothing to do with loneliness, and so I’m still so damn lonely without my best friend – no matter how many other heartbroken souls I connect with (and I feel for every single one of them).

I panic when I think about him. About him being happy without me, thanking himself for making the decision to leave me, feeling like a weight has been lifted… Was I really that hard to live with? That hard to love? He loved me before, what changed? Did he get to know me so well and just realise I’m not that great? That I’m downright bad? Why did he tell me he still loves me ‘so fucking much’ even after the break up? Was it a mistake to fight so hard for him? Now he’s probably walking around like King Dick knowing a girl like me will do anything for him, even when he constantly reminds her of every bad thing she’s ever done until she hates herself. I doubt he’ll find anyone else who loves him/is stupid enough to put up with that. Then again, I can’t imagine him doing it to anyone other than me. He’ll find somebody better, who never makes mistakes, never bruises his fragile ego…

But I bet the sex will be boring as shit.

He text me again yesterday. A photo of his daughter playing with the birthday present I’d sent her. I simply replied with ‘thanks for the photo’ but in reality I wasn’t thankful at all. It was like (yet another) dagger in stomach. A photo of the happy life I’m no longer a part of. A photo of my could-have-been. I find his communication cruel and have to remind myself (and all my friends and family who want to kill him, figuratively speaking) that he’s not really a bad person, he just doesn’t know what he’s doing to me. I’ve made the same mistake before, of not understanding how my seemingly innocent actions can hurt somebody who loves me. At least I could blame it on youth, he on the other hand is almost 30. He’ll understand one day, maybe when somebody breaks his heart.

I have the urge to run. Not in the cardio sense (things aren’t that bad!) – but to move abroad, surround myself with new places, new faces, new opportunities, NO memories. I don’t want him to contact me. I don’t want to know anything about his life without me. I don’t want to bump into him, his family, his friends. I don’t want to hear on the grapevine that he’s got a new girlfriend. I don’t even want to think about it let alone have to acknowledge it. I want to forget about how it feels to be with him, and how heavy it feels to be without him. After all, ignorance is bliss. And if I take myself away, maybe I can convince myself that I made it easy for him to move on because you know, out of sight – or in my case, out of country – out of mind… Maybe I can pretend that by going away I let him forget what we had, that I made it easy for him to move on out of choice, and that if I’d stuck around, maybe, he might have seen me one day and missed me, even only for a moment. If I stay I’m forced to face up to reality, and I just can’t see any silver lining in that right now. Ignorance is bliss (or slightly less painful, at least).

Despite my moaning I do think I’m slowly getting better, or maybe just better at distracting myself. But that’s still progress, right? Like ash in search of said, there’s good days and bad days. Maybe tomorrow will be a good day and I’ll stop comfort eating all the bread. Seriously I ate like an entire bakery today…

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Hobbies include napping and daydreaming…

My list of hobbies/favourite things used to look more like this:

1. Eating in fancy restaurants
2. Visiting the museum
3. Shopping
4. Frequent trips to Paris
5. Nights in with wine & cheese
6. Trips to the zoo
7. Watching UFC
8. Going for sushi
9. Star gazing
10. Dreaming about my future…

Since the break up I’m struggling to find joy in any of these things. See, we were so in love with each other and seemingly so compatible that all of my favourite things and all of his favourite things became our favourite things! He was even my favourite shopping companion! Can you believe that? How lucky I was to find a man who enjoyed shopping ?

I’m mad at myself for letting him become so integral to things that were once mine. Sushi for example. It’s been my favourite food since the first time I had it on holiday when I was around 12 years old. Sakura in Belfast is my favourite restaurant and I used to go once a week (when I could afford it – thank you, student loan). He had never tried sushi before he met me but of course, he loved it (who doesn’t?) and then we visited Sakura almost weekly. It just doesn’t seem as fun to go without him. There’s nobody else who won’t judge me/be mildly disgusted at how much I eat (not even an exaggeration).

We both have a passion for food and fine dining and our favourite way to spend a night together was with wine, cheese and charcuterie. I have a friend who I can do this with but it’s impossible not to think of him at the same time.

I desperately wanted to text him the other night to remind him about the Perseid meteor shower (astronomy was another interest of ours) and I’ve had to forget all about my trip to Paris in October because despite the fact that I’ve been going frequently from age 13 and was lucky enough to spend a year living there (alone), since he surprised me one Christmas with a trip for the two of us, even Paris became ours. 

I’ve been in Paris with many, many different people. Family, friends, ex boyfriends… But no matter how much they loved it (and some of them didn’t), nobody ever seemed to belong there just as much as I did. Paris was fundamentally mine. But the minute he climbed the steps out of a metro station on rue St. Germain, he fell in love. He adored everything I showed him, everywhere I took him. He didn’t tire of the metro or even the bum living outside our hotel who had a habit of walking around with his trousers around his ankles. He wasn’t put off by the rats on our midnight walk by the Seine and he didn’t even curse the staircase leading to Sacre Coeur. We had the most perfect holiday and despite all my time spent there sans mon amant, my best memories of Paris are from that trip. After looking at the city with love in his eyes he told me ‘I feel like I know you better now’. It was SO fucking romantic!

To be honest, I can’t really regret it. Sharing all of ourselves with each other was the big love that I’ve always wanted. Friends seemed envious of how well we spent our time together and he made the simplest of things so romantic. He came into my life like a perfect storm and made a mess of me with all this happiness I struggle so much to hold on to. I don’t want to give up my favourite things but for the time being it hurts me to do them without him.

I hope the day comes where the memories make me smile rather than cry but in the mean time I need to make some new memories for myself. This is inconvenient when you’re as lazy and introverted as I am so for now my hobbies mainly include napping at every given opportunity, daydreaming that he realises his mistake and begs me to take him back and blogging about it, I guess!

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