I’m not in a good place tonight. I had a wee meltdown on the phone to the Bestie on his way home from work. He’s so good to me. Sometimes I wish I could see beyond our friendship and make it something more. I know he’d never break my heart or make me cry. He’d never hurt me in the ways that all the other guys have done. I love my Bestie with every ounce of my soul but honestly, it’s not in that way. I don’t think he thinks of me in that way either. He keeps coming home to a skank that hasn’t showered or washed her hair in days. Normally stoned too.
I haven’t done it. I keep thinking about it though. Don’t make me say it. Fine. That razor blade. Cutting myself. Self harm. I won’t do it. I’m determined not to do it. I’m just having a hard time coping right now. Jock, the cancer shit, my money situations because I’m not working, Christmas… I have so much on my mind I can’t focus on anything. Every time I try to write, I get distracted. Thoughts of Jock. Thoughts of work. Thoughts of that guy that keeps messaging me on POF. Thoughts of that guy that won’t message me on POF even though I really want him too. Thoughts of things I should be buying, projects I should be finishing, words I should be typing…. but can’t.
Speaking of POF, I messaged Mr. Aries today. I left it five days before I messaged him and apologised for whatever it was that scared him away. He told me that the fact I’d been married before raised a red flag for him and he wasn’t sure it would be something he could deal with. Wow. First the piercings with Mr. Libra and now my marital status with Mr. Aries. It’s like all of my past mistakes are turning around and biting me on the ass. Not that I regret any of my piercings of course, but sometimes I do wonder how much further I might have gone in life without them. I know that they look a little frightening to some people. They aren’t massive or anything but they are there and people can see them. I love them though. They make me, me. I’m the pierced girl. I always have been.
Every time I think about that thing I don’t want to say… Every time I think about running the blade over my flesh, I remind myself that I won’t feel like this forever. I won’t feel this ACTUAL ache in my heart forever. This stabbing pain I keep getting every time I think of something to do with him, or hear a song that reminds me of him, or watch a show that we used to watch together; I know it won’t last forever. It will stop hurting eventually. It might not be soon but it will happen. I had a little Big Love stalk recently because that’s what I do sometimes and he had changed his profile picture to one of him looking simply stunning. Massive rippling abs and shoulders and arms I’d love to cling on to. I remember the excitement that rushed through my veins when those shoulders were above my face as he thrust into me, silencing my groans of pleasure with chunks of flesh taken out of his skin with my teeth. He turned me into an animal. In fact, he didn’t turn me; he released my inner animal. Our sex life was incredible at its best. I won’t ever forget that.
I still remember that first time we fucked in his bed space. It was the early evening and everyone was having a grand old time outside. I believe there may have been live music or a BBQ or something going on so all of the people from his side of the world were out there socialising. We were tucked up in his bed space, yanking each other’s clothes off, trying to be as quiet as we could between deep kisses because we were sure someone was in the same tent, three or four bed spaces down. I remember grasping his cock for the first time and not knowing what to do with it. It was circumcised, something I definitely wasn’t used to. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. In fact, it still is. His was my perfect penis, if ever a thing should exist.
The feeling I had when he entered me for the first time were incredible. I had shivers of pain and pleasure wracking their way through my body. I often think back to that first time with him. It was an exhilarating experience, all hot and sweaty and passionate. I remember all of that. And I remember how much I loved him. How much I clung to him like the whiny little bitch he had turned me into.
But I also remember aching for him like nothing else I’d ever experienced when I first came back to my side of the world. Exactly how I’m aching for Jock right now. I wanted to cut myself then. In fact I did cut myself a few times.. Just how I keep thinking about it now. But I got over it didn’t I? I got over the breakup then. I got over that gut-wrenching pain and I survived. I carried on with my life. I got a new job. I moved into a new place. I found my writing career again. I fell in love again and I got my heart broken again. I survived. I’m still here, living, breathing. I didn’t die without him even though there were times I thought I might. I thought my heart was going to explode from the pain. I won’t ache for Jock forever. Big Love is barely a fleeting memory for me now – another life gone by, another chapter of the book closed. Soon Jock will be like that for me.
I wrote him an email. One final one. I’m sorry for the way it ended, it would have been nice for him to have actually broken up with me before he went back on to that dating site, what did he want me to do with those shoes he made me for Christmas? I can’t keep them. I want to smash them in their glass case every time I look at them. He didn’t respond. He’s been online on POF again and he still didn’t respond. I hope he comes running back to me one day with his tail between his legs because I’d laugh in his face. The way that guy treated me for months, and now this? This fucking shitty ending that isn’t even an ending after all? He’s not worth me cutting myself for. He’s not worth my blood or my tears. He’s nothing to me now. The way he treated me? He doesn’t deserve anything more from me.
In a years time I’ll look back on this period of my life and I’ll laugh. He’ll be just another guy. I’ve had the violent husband, the engaged guy, the married guy, the cheating guy and the coked-up guy amongst many others, and now I’ve had the guy that fucked off when I thought I had cancer.
Just another guy. Just another sad day. Just another miserable breakup.
But I’ll survive. Coz I’m a fucking survivor.