That’ll Teach Me

This was written Wednesday morning. I’m all behind. My bad. 

Guess what I did? In fact, I’ll save you the trouble of guessing. I text Brown Eyes. Wait, wait, don’t lose your shit yet. I should explain this morning’s back-story first for those of you who don’t follow me on Twitter, which you should do obviously. My love life is always wonderfully entertaining… For everyone else. Groan.

He messaged me this morning:

Right-o. No mention of the breakup, why we broke up, no sorry, no nothing. And what makes it worse is that he doesn’t have my nice black jeans so I don’t even know why he said that. The entirety of my belongings at his house include: hairspray, Minion toothbrush, tampons, a t-shirt, a couple of pairs of pants, face wipes, spare hairbands, and I’m pretty sure that’s it. Nothing of any great importance, value or significance. I kinda figured it was a ploy to get in touch. After all, surely he’d know that I’d know I had my own clothes in my house? I was wearing the jeans yesterday… Twat.

I didn’t text back after that, mostly out of anger but also because I’m really very upset. I think that’s justified, right? Two hours later he sent another text, a really long one. I can’t just post it because it contains too many names (and errors) and by the time I scribble them all out, there wouldn’t be much left, but this was basically it:

“I can’t bring myself to just bin your stuff. I’ve bagged it all up and it’s at mine safe if you change your mind. Before I go, I thought you deserved to know why all this has happened. I’ll keep it short and sweet and it’s the last you will hear from me, you have my word.

Monday night when we spoke about me blocking you, I asked to speak to you about it the next day. You, being the relationship oracle that you are, think you already have the answers and don’t want to talk. If we’d have spoken yesterday like I asked, we probably could have sorted this out.

You said a couple of things to me on Sunday that really hurt my feelings and it showed me that we care about each other differently. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t feel the same way about me as I do them. Another thing that upset me was the Instagram picture of you and Bestie. I asked you if I could have some banter on it which you said was fine, but I didn’t even get a ‘lol’ from Bestie. I just got ignored. I was trying to break the ice before I met him on Monday. Because of that, I said I was ill and cancelled. When you then changed your profile pic, it upset me because it’s one of you and Bestie laughing at your phone and it felt like you were laughing at me. That was enough for me.

I’m sorry. I do love you to pieces and I always will but I really don’t think you feel the same. I’ve got a delicate heart and I need to protect it.”

Cunt. Cunting cunty cunt-cunts. Go fucking fuck yourself you fucking asshole. Too much swearing? I’m not apologising. My response, well, it wasn’t pleasant. I didn’t use bad language (because I’m better than that) but I did send him a whopper of a response that used all the long words I knew he wouldn’t understand, along with some serious fucking sarcasm.

To start with, Bestie hadn’t even seen the photo, that’s why he hadn’t commented on it. He hadn’t ‘liked’ the post. He wasn’t even aware of it. He doesn’t use social media quite as much as I do. Don’t you feel like a cunt now? You cunt.

(I don’t swear this much in real life, I promise. This is just my release, the little space I let my foul-mouthed rants flow free.)

Secondly, I chose that particular photo as my profile picture because it had been taken by a semi-professional photographer-type person, I didn’t have a double chin in it, and I thought it made me look quite professional. I have pink hair, I kinda need all the professional help I can get.

Thirdly, I got dumped because my best friend didn’t respond to my boyfriend’s comment on an Instagram photo and because I changed my profile picture. What a fucking lunatic. What an actual fucking lunatic.

Fourthly, do you mind if I just laugh for like a couple of minutes? Because at this stage, it’s no longer upsetting and more pant-wettingly hilarious. Apparently we’re back in high school again.

Wait, I’m not done yet. Where we at? Oh yeah, fifthly, how do I not feel the same? I like to think actions speed louder than words and I reckon my actions definitely do. I cook, clean, cuddle, praise, compliment, suck, fuck, hump, fondle, make jokes, bring films, pay for dinners, be cute and I have a handle on myself in public most of the time. How much more do you need for me to show you how much I care for you? Exactly what lengths am I expected to go to here? I got two trains and a metro for you, and it wasn’t even to get laid. I don’t fart in front of you apart from that one time by accident, I don’t ask where you are or what you’re doing, I let you live your life and I live mine… Like, c’mon. I do enough for fucks sake. I AM enough.

Then what did he do? He picked one snippet of our conversation from Sunday, one tiny fucking slip-up sentence, and that became the focus of our entire fight.

It was because I said ‘pointless’. Him coming to get me was ‘pointless’. That was the “few things” I’d said on Sunday that had started this all off. I even explained straight away what I meant. I knew as soon as I said it he’d be pissed.

Seriously. Sociopath.

The next load of shit that came from his direction were classic lines such as:

“I don’t know what the fuck’s going on in my head right now, I wish I could take it off and stick it in a cupboard somewhere.”

Or my particular favourite:

“I absolutely love you to pieces but I’m just shit at relationships and I’m just gonna keep causing you hurt. That hurts me even more.”

Do you have any idea how many times I have heard this bullshit? It’s like that old line, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ just said a little differently. Seriously? Fucking seriously? I’m so pissed off, I could punch a few things right now. Or a few people. I won’t obviously. I’m shit at confrontation and I’d probably end up breaking my own hand. All I can do is shake my own head at how stupid I was to fall for this bullshit. I thought I had everything I wanted in my hands. That’ll teach me for being so smug, won’t it? For daring to be happy, for believing in the dream just for a moment.

Don’t worry. I’ve blocked him now. After that text exchange, plus a phone call that resulted in HIM hanging up on me (ha!), I’d had about enough. The only place I couldn’t block him was Facebook and that’s only because he blocked me first. Petty perhaps but he coaxed out my inner crazy, blocking bitch. Plus I don’t want to hear what other bullshit lines he’ll come out with.

Can I say it one more time? Cunt. With particular emphasis on the ’t’. A really, angry aggressive one that I’d never dare to say out loud.