So, continuing on with my two week break-up course, I watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall. To be honest, I couldn’t really take this one seriously as I have a serious thing for Russell Brand, and I laughed most of the way through it. However, I did empathize with the blubbering mess that was trying to forget her, except I hide my blubbering mess away in my room so that people can’t see it. With the exception of you guys, of course.
I’m having a really hard time right now. I’m not sure if it is because I’ve been plan-less all weekend, or because I’m a bit lonely, but I’m reminiscing. A LOT! I had a look back through last year’s Facebook posts and it has hit me like a ton of bricks.
This time last year, my best girlfriend from the other side of the world took me to a movie so that she could tell me she was pregnant. I’m anti-baby, and have been for some time, and she knew that having the kid would change the dynamic of our friendship. I knew she had been planning on having a family in the future, but an accident happened and she was happily married and all that so I was happy for her. I left a few months after she told me anyway.
This time last year, I dressed up and went to a Halloween party on the other side of the world without The Big Love. We were fighting, he went away to work, and I went to the party on my own. I was surrounded by couples the entire night, and I felt like a spare part.
This time last year, we were making up and breaking up every couple of days. It went like this – he went out on a bender for a few days, getting drugged up to the eyeballs and breaking up with me so that he could do whatever it was he wanted. Then he had a come down after the drug fuelled few days and realized that he wanted me to “help” him to get over the drugs and make him a better person. We would be fine for a few days, perhaps a week or so, and then it started again – he went out and got drugged up and broke up with me….. It was a nasty, vicious circle, and one that I’m not sure either of us thought we would get out of at the time.
It was brutal. It hurt a lot. I spent a lot of this time last year crying my eyes out to the best friend over there that, by this point, had been telling me to leave him for some time. She tried to persuade me to move into hers, as did both of my bosses. I wasn’t having any of it. I could help him. I was going to make him better. We were going to be OK. What a total idiot I was.
Drugs have a funny way of changing someone. He wasn’t the person that I fell in love with. He was nasty and evil, and ended up in this spiral of drugs and drink, surrounded by fellow druggies, that he couldn’t get out of. He spent a lot of money. He lost his job. It was the scariest time in my life. I was on the other side of the world, away from my family and friends, trying to make a life with someone that was adamant on pressing the self-destruct button. I don’t know if he still does drugs now, but I’m hoping for his sake, and the sake of his girlfriend’s that he isn’t. I’ve been told by a few people that he looks tired and pale when they’ve bumped into him, but he works a lot of hours so this could mean anything.
I can’t exactly remember when it was, but I think it was around this time last year that he started seeing someone else. I had found two cups in my house during a period of us breaking up and asked him about it. He said it was nothing. Then my best girlfriend told me that her friend had seen The Big Love arm in arm with another girl at the movies. This broke my heart. I knew we had broken up again, but I wasn’t aware that we were seeing other people. It crippled me, and it was at this point that I knew we would never really recover. She went to our gym, and once we had gotten back together again, I told him that I didn’t want him going to that same gym when she was there, and if them bumping into each other was going to be a recurrent thing, that he would have to move gyms. He refused. It was my problem, apparently; therefore I was going to have to deal with it. In reality, he was right. I should have left him when he started seeing someone else. Unfortunately for me, this wasn’t the last girl. There was another one that he started seeing when we broke up for the final time. This one was another situation entirely, a few months later. He used to dirty talk with her on the phone while I was in the house and I could hear him. I could have opened my mouth so that she could hear me, but she didn’t know I was still living there, or anything about me, and he told me if I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, I would have to move out there and then, rather than waiting a few weeks until I had enough money put together to pay for both my flights and sending my stuff home.
The last couple of months that I was there was the worst. I started sleeping on the sofa every night, and only when he was away working for longer periods of time, did I dare to get in the bed. All of my stuff had been moved to the spare room, and I had to get used to the fact that he now had another girlfriend. I had already booked one flight and missed it because he had asked me to stay, but the final flight I booked was the flight I actually left on. From about this time last year until February, I spiraled into a circle of desperation. Every time he told me we could get back together, I clung onto any last hope like a desperate girl drowning. We had a few good weeks between now and the time I left – we went snowboarding and had an awesome day, we spent nights together, got drunk together, cuddled up on the couch together…. It was full of trouble however. Every time we went to certain bars or clubs, other girls that he had been seeing/talking to/texting came up to him, putting themselves on a plate for him, and he didn’t care that I was there. I slept with someone else; two people in fact, and I hated every second of both of them. He was all I wanted. People kept telling me to go out there and date, so I did. I joined an online dating site in the periods that we were apart, and I slept with other people. The only person I could think about was him. Well, the “him” that I fell in love with anyway. I don’t think he knows I slept with other people. He was aware that I was leaving the house on what he thought were dates, but I don’t think he thought I had what it took at the time to actually fuck another man. In reality, he was probably right. I might have been there in body, but in mind I most definitely wasn’t.
The drugs changed him so much that he was barely recognizable by the time I left. He had turned into a compulsive liar, not only to me but to his friends and family as well. I had told his Dad about his drug problem, scared that I was unable to keep a hold of it anymore, and he lied to his Dad. Even when he lost his job, he told me not to tell anyone why he had lost it and kept telling people different stories. These stories soon caught up with him, of course, and people started asking me about it. I was torn between lying for the man I loved, and wanting people to know how bad things really were. He had been bad-mouthing me to everyone, and as much as I know I made mistakes at this point in our relationship, and probably said a few things I didn’t mean, I definitely didn’t deserve the backlash for his drug induced mistakes.
He started playing with my head. We bought a trailer for the sleds and he took me along with him to get it, asking me to name the new sled, kissing me and cuddling me, telling me that he still thought I was “The One” and that he was never going to let me go. He was going to change, and he was going to go back to the man I had fallen in love with, as long as I went to the gym and started working out. I agreed with this – I had put on some weight, especially during these final few months. It’s funny because the last few weeks I was there, I barely ate, I barely slept, and I drank a lot so I ended up losing a lot of weight in a very short time period. One day he loved me, the next he couldn’t stand to be in the same house as me. This went on for a while until eventually; we couldn’t be in the same house at the same time. When he was home, I got in from work and went straight downstairs until he went to bed, and then I went upstairs to sleep on the couch. Honestly, this was the worst I had ever felt in my life. I started cutting myself again, (a story that we will go into another time) and I could see myself falling apart. I wasn’t sleeping properly, I certainly wasn’t eating hardly anything, and I couldn’t handle the situation anymore. By this point, I had stopped telling people about what was going on. I was leaving as soon as I could afford to, and it was over.
I think the thing that makes all of this the hardest, and also possibly the reason I can’t seem to get over him, is that I left a completely different person to the one I fell in love with. The guy I fell in love with was romantic, adorable, a great lover, hilariously funny, had great morals, and actually gave a shit about other people. The guy I left was bitter, mean, angry, and nasty, blamed me for his drug problem, did whatever he wanted and didn’t care who he hurt in the process. It was as though I had fallen in love with Dr. Jekyll and left Mr. Hyde. I know this is probably the case with a lot of relationships, but this was something else. The Hubby, for example, was an asshole throughout our entire relationship; I just chose to ignore it and thought I could make him a better person. I’m THAT girl that thinks she can turn a bad guy into a good guy. It never works, ladies; never fall for it.
So here I am. Reminiscing about things that happened a year ago today, still incapable of getting over a man that quite spectacularly ripped my heart to shreds. In all honesty, I don’t think it’s entirely him. I think my heart has had enough of being pulled from pillar to post; bad relationship after bad relationship; more dramas in every one than the ones before. My poor heart has been through it all. It has been cheated on, lied to, beaten up, destroyed by drugs, ripped apart by broken promises, and now it has finally realized that love hurts. Even now though, I can’t hate those guys. I can’t hate The Big Love even though I really wish I could. I still love him. The guy that could make me pee my pants with laughter. The guy that could make my knees buckle from a single kiss. The guy that could give me goose bumps all over just from the way he looked at me, and managed to make me feel completely safe even in the most dangerous of situations. Drugs destroyed that guy. Drugs and the failed relationships before me. He once told me that whenever he gets to the two year anniversary mark of any relationship, he falls apart and destroys it. He starts taking drugs again, cheats, lies, and hurts the girls that he is with. Guess where we were in our relationship. Yep, you guessed it – just coming up to two years when it all started kicking off. He predicted the end of our relationship right at the beginning, yet still I threw myself into it. I thought I was the one girl that could change him. And once again, I was proven wrong.