I Hope He Flops.

Today I am angry again. I like being angry. It’s almost 4pm and I’ve not cried once yet. That’s like an actual achievement for me at this point. Maybe it was just as simple as ripping off a band aid? If only life could really be that easy.

I keep spotting him online. He will have read that email and completely ignored it. What an actual cunt. In fact no, he’s worse than a cunt. He’s a coward. He didn’t have the balls to tell me it was over. Instead he let me find out from his online dating presence. Who fucking does that? Like really, who fucking does that?

I do deserve better than this. I deserve a guy that knows he has to go through the bad times with me to get the good times. Yeah we’ve had a shit couple of months but come on, for fucks sake, I might have cancer! Surely in those circumstances, I was allowed to go a little crazy? We went south so fast. A small invitation to a theme park effectively destroyed our relationship. Was I so fucking wrong to stand by my principles? Was that so fucking bad of me to want to be more important in his life than I was? Didn’t I deserve to be that important?

I stood by him through so many of his bad times. When he thought he was going to lose his license. When he thought he was going to lose his job. I applied for jobs for him! When he needed help with his phone bill. When the trailer needed cleaning or decorating. When he needed sex. When he needed a shoulder to cry on. When he just wanted a blowjob. When he wanted a cuddle. I was always there. I was reliable. I was loyal. I never fucked him about and I never gave him needless shit. I never wanted to know where he was. I didn’t care if he had his own life. I didn’t want to know about his finances. I didn’t want to meet his kid. I didn’t want to move in together yet. I didn’t want to rush things. I didn’t give him shit for only seeing me once a week if that. I liked my own space just as much as he liked his and I hope he doesn’t find that with anyone else. I hope he fucking misses me. I hope he realises what we had was fucking special. I hope he flops and doesn’t date anyone else. Of course I don’t. I wish him happiness. I want to get on with my life and be happy and although I do really want to see him suffer right now, I do wish the best for him. I just hope someone makes him feel as ridiculous and as stupid as he made me feel. I do hope that.

He told me time and time again that all I ever focused on were the negatives but I strongly disagree with him. There were so many fucking negatives from day one. I never ever focused on them. I never a shit about how people thought we looked strange together. I never gave a shit when people actually said those thoughts to my face. In fact, it offended me because I was fiercely loyal to this guy. I never moaned about his finances. Not really. Yeah I had something to say about them but I tried to help him. That’s what he told me he wanted me to do. He told me I’d need to kick his ass and that’s what I was doing. Why did he tell me he wanted that and then run away when I actually did it?

I never moaned when he put on weight. I never moaned when he got greyer. I never moaned about the wrinkles that were starting to scatter his face. I never moaned about his small dick or the gut that hung over the top of it. No, I didn’t moan about any of that. I loved him. Each and every inch of him. The good, the bad and the fucking ugly. I loved all of him. The snores, the farts, the weird dances and strange accents… All of it. I loved all of it.

Was it really something as simple as the cancer thing? Had the Ex fucked him up so much that he assumed I was going to have cancer, get better and then kick him out like she did? She fucked him up good and proper, and I get the impression she really broke his heart. I never wanted to break his heart but he’s going around acting like I did, ignoring all communications from me even when I caught him dating again. Who does that? It’s such a coward’s way out, isn’t it?

I was going to have children with this man. That’s how sure I was of him. He suggested me getting pregnant ‘by accident’ as a way for him to get his ass into gear and get us back on track. He actually said that to me. Maybe it would be better if I did get pregnant by accident because that would be the kick up the ass he needed to get shit sorted. The worst of it was, I actually thought about it. I actually came off the pill. He knew about that, of course. I’m not that crazy. We were going to use condoms. Except that last time we didn’t. I just came on my period though. The chances of me getting pregnant were slim to none. And just to clarify, I didn’t come off the pill to get pregnant. I came off the pill because I was ill all the time and my periods were all over the place. It was costing me a fortune in pregnancy tests. I figured condoms were cheaper. Especially as we were averaging one fuck every three months by the end.

It’s funny because when I put shit down in black and white like on here, I wonder why the hell I loved him in the first place. Don’t get me wrong, he was my world but he wasn’t all that, was he? He was never going to be a few inches taller. He was never going to be a few inches trimmer. He was never going to stop snoring, farting, or doing that weird dance when he got into his onesie at night. His dick was never going to be a few inches longer. So what was it about him that kept me (and possibly keeps me) running back for more. Am I glutton for punishment or is it that peptide addiction?

Whatever it is, it had better fuck off soon. I’m sick of being miserable.