I’m going to apologise in advance because this is inevitably going to be one long, man-hating rant of a blog post. I just need to have a good old rant. Is that okay?
I need to talk about Big Love. Number 37 on The List. He’s the one I’m still pining for. The one that broke my heart into a thousand teeny-tiny pieces, that I haven’t yet recovered from, that I still stalk daily. It’s been six months since I left. Six months. Sometimes, it feels like it’s been so much longer than that. Others, it feels like just yesterday I had to do that arduous journey home. I’ll never forget that journey. Nor will my heart.
I still stalk him on Facebook because I’m still convinced that he’s going to get in touch at some point to tell me that he made a massive mistake. Two years, we were together. The loves of each other’s lives and all that bullshit. Evidently not. My latest bout of Facebook stalking (I should probably stop) alerted me to the fact that he and his new girlfriend are buying a house together.
Sorry … what?
We were together for two years. TWO WHOLE YEARS. He and this new chick have been together for around six months. Maybe even less than that. I only left six months ago. I couldn’t get him to commit to sponsoring me to stay in the country any longer, let along buy a house with me. I helped to buy off all of his bankruptcy stuff so that he could then sponsor me, but as soon as we got to a point where he could, he simply ditched me instead. But this brings me nicely to my next point: how is he buying a house with his fucking credit? How is that happening?
I feel so used right now. I worked my ass off, six or seven days a week, to pay off his shit. To pay for the kid he doesn’t see, that he irresponsibly created on a drunken and drug-fuelled night. To pay for the wife that he was in the process of divorcing and kept asking for money left, right and centre. To get our beautiful little duplex and make it look nice, buying new bedroom sets and couches, gorgeous artwork for the walls and stupidly expensive rugs that feel like heaven in between your toes when the wooden floor gets cold in winter. I did all of that with him. I helped him to get all of that. And I ended up with none of it. Zero. Zilch. He simply kicked me out with nothing but the clothes I owned, not even letting me take my favourite art off the walls (that he didn’t even like to start with). I was such a stepping stone for him. I gave him my everything and he just used me to step into something bigger, with someone better.
It felt like my heart was breaking all over again when I saw that Facebook post, announcing that joyous news. I guess I should’ve expected it at some point; he works at lightspeed when he’s got a girl that he can use to get what he wants. And I’ve got no doubt that he’ll ditch her before it gets serious, making her believe it’s getting serious along the way, absolutely crushing her heart in the process.
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’d made the biggest mistake in letting me walk away. Wasn’t it always him who said we were meant to be? Even in the last few days of us being together, he was saying those things — that I was his soulmate, everything he’d ever need. How could he possibly be over me so quickly, if he loved me that much? And why isn’t he as excited as his girlfriend seems to be about their new relationship? I know what he’s like, remember. I know how he loves to boast and tell people about the new loves of his life, whether it’s women, new friends, new shoes, a new snowmobile, whatever. He’s not like that with her. There are no status changes, no big Facebook I-love-you’s, nothing. Why? Is she just a stepping stone too? Maybe that’s how he’s going to get the house he can’t buy by himself? Or perhaps he’s just chosen whoever came along next to live out his five-year plan with. He wanted to buy a house by the time he was thirty so that he could settle down and start having children. That’s what he said he wanted with me, for us, so how come it’s already happening with her?
I’m jealous. I hate that I feel that way, especially about him, but I am. I freely admit it. I’m jealous that she’s getting to cosy up on my couch with him, enjoying the fruits of my labour in that house. My beautiful home. And it wasn’t just a beautiful home I built; I also built the man up too. He had nothing, not a shred of confidence when we met. Everyone told me just how good I was for him. People kept saying that he was the most confident they’d ever seen him. Maybe it was me that created the monster all along? And maybe his new girlfriend/whatever will see the monstrous part of him in due time? Not even that thought makes me feel better. I don’t want another woman to feel the way I felt when he did those things to me.
And yes, I know that I need to stop stalking his Facebook page. It’s not productive, it doesn’t help with the healing process, and it’s just going to upset me every time. I can’t though. I just can’t seem to stop myself. I keep seeing photos of him, looking beautifully handsome and every bit as hot as the man I fell for, wondering if he’s finally got his head screwed on. Debating whether or not I should send him a message to tell him I miss him. Not that I ever will, of course. But I think about it all the time. I just always thought we’d end up getting back together. I don’t really know what to do with myself now that I’m certain we aren’t.