Paranoid Prick.

Again I have left it too long until I blogged. I’m sorry folks. What’s been happening? I know you’re all dying to hear whether or not I met up with My Mr. Grey and f***ed the crap outta him, right?

Well I didn’t. And although I’m proud of myself, I’m mighty pissed off about it.

I decided that it wasn’t a good idea. One Ball is worth so much more than that and I don’t want to be THAT cheating bitch. The one that made him fall in love with her and then broke his heart. Yeah, I didn’t want to be that girl. So I wasn’t. I was the faithful girlfriend and I ignored practically every text message My Mr. Grey had sent me. With every message that popped up from him I wanted to shout “I’ve just been paid, let me get the train and come f**k you!” but I didn’t. It took all my restraint though. It almost drove me crazy.

During this weekend, I barely spoke to One Ball. I was working a lot and I met up with the Bestie I’ve Never Had a Dalliance With and got baked. We went for a picnic. It was cute. We just hung out and reminisced in the sun with our picnic, watching the world go by and getting far too paranoid about being arrested for getting baked in a public place. We didn’t get caught but we did have fun.

Anyway, OB decided that my chill time was the perfect time to have an overly paranoid obsessive fit that quite frankly, pissed me right off. I had seven missed calls from him because apparently I had ignored him. I had spoken to him – there weren’t hours between communication or anything like that. I was just quieter than usual and he couldn’t stand it apparently. He knew where I was and he knew who I was with. The Bestie and I were at my house hanging out and then we would be going for a picnic the next day. Despite this he not only left me so many missed calls that I thought one of his children had been hit by a bus, and text me more than a few angry text messages asking if I had gone and seen My Mr. Grey and why the hell was I ignoring him, but also decided to call my Lil Sis trying to find out where I was. She clearly panicked – thinking all sorts had happened to me. What a knob.

I called him in a panic – 7 missed calls and I was going to be worried, right? What was wrong? Was everything okay? What was happening?

“Why the fuck are you ignoring me?”

Huh? Ignoring you? I’m not ignoring you, you stupid asshole. I’m having some down time with my best friend. You see – in a fit of honesty, I told OB that My Mr. Grey had mentioned that he was coming down. I also told him that I wouldn’t be going. I guess this just means that he doesn’t trust me, choosing to let his paranoia overtake the fact that I had said I wouldn’t.

I was livid. Calling my sister? Yeah, that’s going too far in my eyes. I gave him hell, of course. He apologized and then apologized some more. I think I made him feel bad. Good. That’s what I wanted to do. I can’t be in a relationship where I’m constantly checked up on. Do I really come across as that sort of girl?

To be honest, I get the impression that me and OB are on the out. He’s gone all boyfriend-y on me, and this was something that I really hoped wouldn’t happen. Unfortunately, it’s happening right in front of my eyes.

On the other side of things, I was well behaved when it come to My Mr. Grey. I think the weekends down at my end of the country are going to become a regular thing. He has made it very clear that him and his girl aren’t going the way he wants them to go, and he misses me sexually. He’s doing some work on race cars when he’s down my way apparently. This means that he will be driving down in his race car. His race car and I get along splendidly. Without saying too much, when the car is doing a particular amount of revs over those yellow bumpy lines in the road that they love to do over on this side of the world, the vibrations do things to me and when I learn forward in a specific way, the vibrations do things for my clit too. Yes ladies and gentlemen – it happened. I have cum in his car. I guess I said too much.

I have been faithful this time but how long is it going to be before I give in to my basal urges and just f**k the shit out of the man I love so much but can’t seem to get it together for? All I have thought about this past weekend is what his fingers could have been doing to my body – the way the lightest of his touches gives me electric style shocks. That hand on my ribs and around my neck. I just can’t get it together right now! I’m sexually frustrated and it’s not for my boyfriend. What the f**k?

Well that’s what’s happening with me. Oh and the Big Love still isn’t responding to his girlfriend’s public Facebook displays of affection. She wrote a massive “I love you” post and he couldn’t even muster a “like”. Something’s not right there…

Hope you guys and girlies are doing okay. I’ve missed you. Spring’s here though – that’s good news, right?

9

I Want to Fuck My Mr. Grey.

He’s down next weekend. His sex life is pretty pants right now. I know this because he told me. I know what this means. He wants a weekend with me. I want a weekend with him too.

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I love the way One Ball fucks me. The only problem is I know the way that One Ball fucks me. It’s predictable. I know how he works, what he likes and how to make him cum. Well almost. I need something different. I think that’s why I haven’t blogged, or wanted to be around him so much. It’s predictable and I’m getting bored.

Neither of us has had the money to do a lot recently. I’m always working on the business or writing, or at my actual job, and he has kids. We’ve both been broke. It’s just difficult for us right now. We had spoken about moving in together and at first I had agreed, but after careful deliberation, I realized that this was a bad idea. And I told him so.  And anyway, hopefully my Mama’s bf is getting sent down (another story for another day perhaps) and then I get to live in their beautiful big house with the Bestie I’ve Never Had a Dalliance With. Yay!!!

My Mr. Grey sent me a message earlier asking how I was and happened to slip into the conversation that he was going to be down at my end of the country next weekend. I know I’m a loving, doting, adoring girlfriend to OB but do I want to be that? No, I want that desperate passion and unbridled lust that I have with My Mr. Grey. I need to be abused. It’s been a long time since I’ve been abused.

OB gives it a shot and he’s pretty good at it but well, we all know that My Mr. Grey is the King of all things Kinky Fuckery. That’s why I love him. That’s why he is my unicorn – the one guy I’ll always want but will be just out of my reach.

I know exactly why he messaged me today and I know exactly why he lightly slipped into conversation that he was going to be down my way. I also know why he casually slipped the fact that his current girlfriend doesn’t abuse him, they rarely have sex, never have kinky fuckery, and he has pretty much stopped jerking off or shoving pinky fingers down his “japs eye” because no one is really “doing it” for him. I know exactly what this means and you know what, it fucking works. I want what he wants. 

He wants me to be the one that saves him from his almost-celibacy. He’s pulling on those parts of my personality that make me battle against myself, and normally always win. I always get the guy I want. If I want him, I’m getting him. I want to make My Mr. Grey realize he can lust after a woman again, and that woman should be me. It’s tugging on my inner sex kitten and he knows exactly what he’s doing. Come on girls; we all know this guy. He’s the one that accidentally sends you text messages that are of a slightly naughty nature, that were meant for another woman in his phone book. How many of those guys have you dated? My Mr. Grey is a closet one of these. These things are cheesy, old time tricks but you know what ladies and gentlemen; they still work.

My first instinct is to fuck him off. He’s playing with me again, just like he did all those other times before. He wants me but can’t commit because he’s always planning some grand romantic gesture that is completely wasted on me and that I almost always miss. The wedding I didn’t show up to being a prime example, of course. Even when he no longer has the option to get me he still tries, but if only he knew the words “I want to take you away from all of this right now. Come with me? Yes or no?” would end all of our game-playing and see us end up together.

My second instinct; the one that won’t fuck off and leave me alone is saying that I NEED a night of lust and unbridled passion. I DESERVE a night of kinky fuckery. I’ll fucking LOVE a night of hardcore screwing that a porn star would blush at. I do deserve it, don’t I?

I’ve been faithful to OB and I’m proud of that. I’ve won him over and I’ve been a good girl; something that’s not easily managed by me and you’ll know this if you’ve been following me for a while. My attention span is too small to be mesmerized by one man for too long. With the exception of My Mr. Grey of course; I always seem to somehow catch up with him and still feel exactly the same as I did way back when. He always has my attention.

I miss the way he used to put his arm around my waist and just squeeze a little too tight on my rib cage. Not enough to be painful but just enough to remind me who wears the pants. The way his hand will rest on the back of my neck, again an almost-overbearing gesture that feels overwhelmingly comfortable to me. The way he licks his lips when he’s hovering over me, ready to thrust deep into me. The way he touches me and pushes my boundaries. God I miss that. Where did that go from my life? OB is really good in bed but for me, he’s not page-turning passion. He’s a bit like 50 Shades of Grey – once you’ve read one sex scene, you’ve read them all, you know?

I really don’t know what to do here. If I did have a weekend with My Mr. Grey, would I feel guilty about it and want to tell OB? Is OB just a gap-filler until I eventually get My Mr. Grey or the next starring male role in my life? He’s a good guy and I love him but surely there needs to be more sizzle than this? Could I really do that to him? I really don’t know if I could.

On the other side of the coin however, I know that it will only be a matter of time before My Mr. Grey eventually does catch up with me. He always manages it, doesn’t he? He popped up with the Big Love and the Hubby. He virtually destroyed me and the Lapdog the first time around and I most definitely used and abused My Mr. Grey when I learned of Number 14 – The Postman’s infidelity. He has this strange habit of being able to tell when I’m at my weakest in a relationship to prey slash make his mood. I don’t know how weak I feel right now in my current relationship but the fact that I’m at the very least thinking about heading off for a naughty night away with a guy that isn’t my boyfriend isn’t a great sign.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I figured I’d just go with it and see what happens. I may even bottle out and tell My Mr. Grey not to come down – that’s happened a few times before. I may just try that route and see what happens. A part of me wants him to be persistent…. Why does this always happen to me?

The Yin to my Yang?

I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself. Surely at some point in the near future I must stop these random episodes of reminiscing about times gone by? Let’s be more precise about this – The Big Love.

He’s in my head a lot recently and I can’t really work out why. I am doing that thing right now where I switch up all the music on my iPhone and that means going through the decades of my life, in music form, searching through an endless iTunes list.

Like a G6 by Far East Movement and Dev. Wow that is a song and a half. That song will always and forever remind me of the night of the Christmas Party with The Big Love. The night we did so much blow, I had to leave work early the next day because I couldn’t physically stand the next day. I remember wearing this bombshell red dress and he had this white suit on that would never have worked on anyone else but on him, it just worked. We looked totally overdressed for the occasion, of course, but we had a damn good time anyway. I had to pretend I was nervous about meeting the other WAGs because I couldn’t keep myself together. I was as high as a kite and soon, he would be too. That was the first night we had actually properly done coke together and it will be a night that I will remember for the rest of my life. That was the night I did it with him – it was the night that sent us on that downward spiral to splits-ville. It was as though I had given him permission by doing coke with him and that sent him right back to where he had been before – on the brink of losing everything because of that damn drug.

We had some crazy times, The Big Love and I. I think that’s maybe why getting over him has been so difficult. I know I’m probably boring you with the whole Big Love crap but if you don’t like it, well I’m sure you will get over it. He was such a massive milestone in my life. He took me to the other side of the world. He showed me things that I had never seen before and I’m sure I will never see again. I will never forget the time he took me to the waterfalls hidden in the mountains and I saw my first Mama and baby black bear. I had been so excited about seeing that magical site that I actually cried real tears of delight. That was one of our last attempts at making our relationship work. We should have gone away for the weekend then but he had changed his mind at the last minute because I had been such a bitch, but he eventually gave in and took me to those falls instead. We have photos of us that day and neither of us look happy. We aren’t together in the photos and we look so rigid and uncomfortable. They aren’t great photos of us at all.

Another song that has just come on and that reminds me of him is by Kesha. I remember one night he was on my side of the world and I took him to a bar that I used to work in that just so happened to have a strip club on the bottom floor on that particular night. I whored myself up, all black eye liner and big hair, knowing that I could get into the downstairs part of the club (women aren’t allowed) because I knew the owner. It worked a treat and I got us in.

The night is kind of a blur. I remember getting very drunk and being very turned on. I paid for him to have a private dance with one particular girl and she offered us a good deal to dance for us both. We followed her into the private room and had a fucking amazing time. I don’t even know where to begin so I’m sorry if this is a mess. I remember her straddling him while having her fingers in my pussy. Then she was sat on my lap, kissing my neck, grabbing his crotch. There was a lot of making out. There was a lot of touching that I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to do in a strip bar. I was so wet it was unbelievable. The dance finished and we paid for another. No way was I giving this up now. More of the same followed and she lead his hand to my pussy, guiding his fingers as he quickly bought me to an intense climax. It was the HOTTEST night of my life.

That was one of the things I loved most about The Big Love right at the start of our relationship – he was open for anything. I soon realized that this wasn’t the “real” him; he’s a pretty vanilla sorta guy. He did those things at the beginning to impress me. He even admitted it to me. I’m not ashamed to say it worked and it was oh so good.

After the second dance in that strip bar, he went to get us drinks. He came back from the bar while I went back to our seats and he whispered something in my ear –

“Find out how much it will take to get that girl back to ours”

That one sentence sent shivers of delight down my spine and I went to find the dancer in the toilets that I knew were hidden out the back. There wasn’t a lot of talking. I told her what I wanted and she made it plain and simple that she wanted me and not him. I tried to put up a fight. I really did. It didn’t last long – she was on her knees in the cubicle, lapping at me like nothing else I had ever felt. I repayed the favor, then kissed her on the cheek, thrusting my phone number into her hand as I left the bathroom. She never called me. I didn’t think she would. I didn’t mind though. The experience was positively mind blowing.

The Big Love and I had a fight after that of course. He knew I had been up to all sorts in that bathroom with that girl but I denied it right until now. That was my dirty little secret and one I’m not even ashamed about admitting it to you guys. I would give anything to have another night like that again but I fear, at my age, it’s not so readily available.

I get so turned on by naughty sex; seedy sex. Sex that’s not allowed and is so taboo. That’s why I loved Big Love so much. He opened me up to whole host of things. He wasn’t the first to show me these things, but he taught me a lot about myself. He was my plaything. The coked up nights that we had together may have been bad for us, in more ways than one, but they sure were a hell of a lot of fun. The things that we used to do on those nights were amazing. He fucked me with a Budweiser bottle. He lapped cocaine from my pussy. He jerked himself off into my face while I had porn on behind me and a couple of fingers thrusting into his ass, getting myself off at the same time. There was the night we experimented with knife play – him cutting me as I came on his hands. I still have that scar. That’s the place I seem to hit whenever I do it. It’s almost as though I don’t want that particular scar to go away. I had tried to explain to him that cutting myself wasn’t just a depressive thing – it was a frustration thing too. The release I feel when I cut myself with a blade and watch myself bleed is almost sexual in nature for me. I don’t know how to explain it and I didn’t know how to explain it to him. The only thing I could was show him and the only time I would ever be brave enough to do such a thing was when I was high off my face on coke.

That was a bad night for us. That opened up a whole can or worms that should probably just have been left alone. He made me think that it was acceptable by actually cutting me himself and it turned into a habit that I then found very difficult to break. He admitted once that he got very turned on whenever he felt those rough edges of skin that I had left on my legs. That made it okay for me to do and then made it tough for me to stop. He was so very bad for me in more ways than I could ever have imagined.

See that was the thing about our love. It wasn’t normal love. It was vicious love – the way that love should be. Its love that destroys you and pulls you apart, while at the same time creating a bond that is impossible to break. It’s love that doesn’t make sense and you can’t justify it or the things that it makes you do. It turns you into a crazy beast that isn’t thinking clearly. I do honestly think that somehow, your one true soul mate isn’t the one that you are meant to be with. It’s the Adam to the Eve – they were bad for each other too, weren’t they? Just look at the film Hancock too – the two main characters were superheroes that were built for each other but couldn’t be together as they just destroyed each other. That’s what I think real love is. Maybe Big Love was the yin to my yan? The night to my day? The black to my white? Perhaps that’s why I can’t shake him off. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t really seem to give a shit about his current girlfriend. He made not one mention of her for their one year anniversary. Not one teeny tiny little mention. That’s not the Big Love that I know. Not by a long shot. Even at the end of us he would have done that for me.

For now I need to turn this damn music off and get to bed. As always folks, thanks for being there for me xoxo

 

 

Domestic Violence – a Moment in Time

I was watching Sons of Anarchy earlier – the episode where Gemma gets badly beaten by Clay. Every punch that made contact with her face on that TV show, I felt. It made me flinch. It made me very uncomfortable. It’s funny really. I don’t think I’m ever going to get over what The Hubby did to me.

I know I talk about this topic a lot sometimes and one half of me wants to apologise for that. However, there is this other part of me – the part that thinks that this SHOULD be talked about. So I AM going to talk about it. And for those of you that don’t want to read this, quit reading.

I don’t think that you ever forget an episode of domestic violence. Fighting with other girls is something that I often forget. However when a man hits me, the image gets so embedded in my mind, I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.

The night he punched me in the face is something I will never forget. I will never forget that moment where I looked into my hands and saw a pool of blood that I honestly thought had been my own tears. I will never forget that beat my heart skipped as I looked down and saw that much red in my hands. My face was streaming blood like a tap turned on. I remember the fear that propelled me out of that apartment. The way my shaking hands struggled to turn the handle at the front door as I rushed to get out before he could get his hands on me again. I will never forget my horror as I ran down the stairs and saw the trail of bloody hand prints that my palms were leaving on the wall, or the splashed blood that hit the front door of my downstairs neighbor’s apartment (Number 26) as they threw the door back and welcomed me in. They had heard everything.

I’m never going to forget that night. I was drunk but still I remember every heart-breaking second. He had hurt me before but he had never actually punched me before that night. That night he crossed a boundary in himself, and also a boundary for me. That one punch broke me. And right now I’m still broken.

There’s a point with domestic violence I think, that changes you as a person. That night was that point for me. I get nightmares even now, and I left him years ago. Whenever a man punches a woman on the TV or in a movie, it makes my heart stop for a split second and I flinch. If a man raises his voice at me or shows me aggressive body language, I can feel my heart speeding up and my breathing gets fast – this is when I get a panic attack. Even now as I write this, I am fidgety and I can’t get my mind to think straight. I’m clasping my hands in between writing sentences that are proving almost impossible to write. I talk about it in such a way that it’s almost as though it didn’t happen to me, but talking about that night gets to me in ways I don’t even know how to explain. I wish I had the balls to turn around and tell him this stuff – tell him how much his actions still affect me. He wouldn’t care enough to listen, I don’t think, and I don’t have the strength to ever face him again.

I went to a party this past weekend and at this party, I was invited to a girl’s night out later on this month. We would be going out in a town near to where I live – it’s where The Hubby is now. I agreed but only after a moment did it dawn on me that I would be out partying on a Saturday night in the same town that The Hubby lived and partied in. The Bestie I’ve Never Had a Dalliance With has seen him out when he has been drinking in this town. I can’t go. I’m already thinking up my best excuses and I think I’m going to go with having to work the next day. My biggest fear right now is bumping into him on a night out. I’d be drunk and he would be drunk and that was always a recipe for disaster. I don’t know how I would cope bumping into him. I haven’t seen him since before we were both in the War Zone – I left before he had a chance to come home. I ran away like a coward but I’m not ashamed of that – I had to get out when he wasn’t there otherwise I never would have left and either he or I would be dead right now. And I whole heartedly believe that too.

I don’t know if I’m scared of seeing him because I’m scared of his reaction… or mine? I know he would be angry but I don’t think he would come up to me. I think he would leave in all honesty. However, the side of me that remembers him beating the shit out of my face reminds me that he is capable of anything and I realize that I do see him coming up to me in the club, in my mind. He would be furious. I left him and broke his heart – that’s how he tells the story anyway. I didn’t even have the energy to correct it.

My reaction is what I’m afraid of the most. Would I get angry and make a scene? Would I run in fear? I like to think I’m stronger than that now but in all honesty, I don’t really know. Would I remember that I loved him and never, ever said goodbye and want him back? Would we clash? Which one of us would make our move first? Which one of us will leave or stand our ground?

I loved him enough to stand by him through all of the things that he did to me. Would that love be strong enough to still affect me if I were to see him now? We never had a real ending. I never said goodbye. He never saw me pack my stuff or storm out. We aren’t even divorced yet because we can’t have a long enough civil conversation to say yes and agree how we will pay. Which brings me to my next point – I really need to divorce this guy and get him and his name out of my life. We need to have this ending. It is time now. I am ready to stand up and make the final stand and you know what else – I’m going to pay for the whole damn thing myself too, as long as he doesn’t contest it. I’m going to do one of those quickie divorce things that everyone seems to be getting these days. I want my name and my life back. I need him forgotten and that’s not going to happen all the time I see Mrs. on every piece of paper that is addressed to me.

I still have the bottle of champagne that was given to us by his Father and his wife because they couldn’t actually attend our wedding. I took that as a sort of final “fuck you” to him. I wish I had taken a whole fuck load more too. I can’t wait to have a divorce party and crack open that bottle. I want to pop that cork when it’s just me, my Mama and my Lil Sis. I’m not sure why I want it like that but that’s how I want it.

I’d love to wear my beautiful white Louboutins to that party too – to symbolize the final goodbye to The Big Love. I’m hoping to be over him enough to do this when it happens. It would be the perfect goodbye to a couple of amazing adventures. I wouldn’t ever want to forget them of course, but it would be nice to finally say goodbye.

So there you are – that’s where I am tonight. I talked about it. I feel better now.

 

April showers – It’s Raining Men!

Something’s going on here. I’m not entirely sure what’s going on. My head is all over the place and I think I need to get it down in print to clear my head.

Gosh it feels like I haven’t blogged in such a long time and I have so much to catch up on. I warn you peeps; this could turn into a really long blog post.

So, OB was down for two weeks. Let me just have a look back to my last blog post to see where I left off with you…

Ok, right. So he had gone home and my Bestie on the other side of the world had sadly put her dog to sleep. Well for a while I thought I was pregnant. The Lapdog is back in my life. Number 25 got in touch again. Number 26 and I have been talking quite a bit. Oh and OB is coming down again next week and I don’t think I want him to. Oh and some progress (ish) with my business plans have happened. My head is well and truly in a spin.

We’ll start with the “P” word.

So, it seemed like such a long time since I had my last period, I thought I had better check things out. I went back through my blog to see when my last Mother Nature rant was and realized it was the 16th February. I did the calculations and I was five days late. Shit.

I went to a pregnancy tracker website and typed in the first day of my last period. I would have conceived the very same day he got here. When I saw The Bestie I’ve Never Had a Dalliance With, he did this heart rate thing on me and my heart rate was pretty high. In the pregnancy early symptoms bit it said that this was one of the first symptoms, as the heart is pumping harder to make a baby or some shit. By this point I have pretty much convinced myself that I was pregnant. OB has had the snip through, right? Well yes he has but it turns out that sperm doesn’t fully leave the body after the snip until you have had between 20-30 ejaculations. Apparently it is fairly common for people to fall pregnant right after the guy has the snip.

I decided to bite the bullet and tell OB what was going on, against my better judgment. I had apparently been weird with him recently; blowing hot and cold so I needed to give him an explanation. See – he’s in tune with my emotions even halfway up the country! I told him and I got the result I had expected. He didn’t want another baby. That was why he had the snip. His honesty was pretty shocking, even though I had expected it. I didn’t really know how I felt about a man telling me that he didn’t want me to keep his baby. I wouldn’t have kept it anyway. We all know that. A baby would be the worst thing that could happen to me right now. I did have a few thoughts though – I reckon I could start wanting a baby with a guy I felt settled with.

Moving on – The Lapdog is back in my life.

He text me, I ignored it. He text me the next night, I ignored it. He text me an hour later, I ignored it. He text me an hour later after that, I finally gave in and text him back. We had a few brief polite words and then he asked if he could call me. I tried to put him off but he’s a persistent little fucker and eventually, I gave in.

We talked for hours, probably about two and a half? We talked about him and his girlfriend. We talked about me and my boyfriend. He was walking home from a friend’s house and I think he only reason he called me was because he wanted some company on the walk. He tried to bring up the past and I steered him away at every opportunity. He wanted to add me as a friend on Facebook again, but I respectfully declined. I’m not ready to have him back in my life again. I am very settled with OB and I don’t want to rock the boat. I can see myself cheating on OB with The Lapdog. I hate that I just admitted that. It’s funny though because very recently I’ve noticed that they are fairly similar people. I can see a lot of things in OB that I can see in The Lapdog and vice versa. Well that can’t be good.

Number 25?

Yup, this little shit came back. Same drill here – he text, I ignored it, so on and so forth, until eventually, in a bout of insomnia, I text him back. The usual bullshit continued – he wants me to send him a pic of my tits, he wants us to arrange to meet up, blah, blah, blah! I’m being a good girl as always but to be honest, I quite like having him around. Well, in messaging form anyway. He gives me that daily confidence boost I think every girl needs from time to time. He annoys the hell out of me of course, and I doubt I would ever actually go to meet him, but I like the little flirtation/banter we have together. See – my bored, badass side is coming back out. I’m actually going out drinking for the first time in forever tomorrow night and I’m actually considering having a wax… if you know what I mean.

A Little Bit of Big Love

I stalked The Big Love recently as always. It was their one year anniversary a couple days ago I guess. The first thing I felt when I saw the beautiful love poem – slash – vomit inducing, badly written mini-essay that she had left publicly on his page was heart-breaking pain. It lasted just for a moment but it was most definitely there. It was jealousy, anger, resentment, love, lust, adoration, obsession and a million other emotions all zooming around my body at once. He was my guy not hers. It was like a smack in the face, almost as though my Facebook page had turned around and said to me “Ha ha! He doesn’t love you anymore! He loves her! Ner ner ner ner ner!”

Of course as the days went by, I looked at it a thousand times. A few things dawned on me. Firstly, it was their one year anniversary and she had waxed lyrical about their beautiful and everlasting bond (vomit) but he didn’t say a single thing back. He didn’t even like her public display of love and adoration. He posted a status up after that about going sledding – it was almost as though he had completely ignored the remark was even there. Her page is totally private so I couldn’t even see if he had written on her page but I’d like to bet money that he hasn’t. I remember the public declarations of love we had made for each other and we most definitely acknowledged them at the very least!

Secondly – her page is completely private. I can’t see a single thing on her page. However, when she posted on his wall it was totally public – I could see everything. Every like, every friend that had commented (one – haha!), everything!  Surely her default settings would have ensured that I couldn’t have seen it as I wasn’t friends with either of them? That means that she would have had to have made that public for a reason. Is that reason me? Is there trouble in paradise again?

Of course things seem to be going swimmingly for me. My little business is going from strength to strength and it would appear that things are finally starting to get moving for us. My boyfriend is still pretty much perfect, apart from the drunken phone calls and messages that kept me up half the night (to 3:30am) before work the next day, pissing me off more than he could ever understand. Aside from that, he’s perfect as always. The past men in my life are popping out of nowhere as usual and things are doing alright. Aside from the boredom and monotony that’s driving me crazy, of course!