And Then He Broke My Heart…

And Then He Broke My HeartThat’s where I left off last time, wasn’t it? Big Love was my Fairytale Prince that whisked me off my feet, and then we went skydiving… Which I personally blame for the decline of our relationship. Well, not just that, but it definitely didn’t help.

Back to the topic in hand, and things went downhill when we got to about a year and a half in. He had already told me a few times before that he always seems to freak out when he gets to the two-year point in the relationship, and he starts doing drugs again and ends up losing everything. He was adamant that he wasn’t going to do that with me. That wasn’t how it was going to be for us. 

Well guess what, ladies and gentlemen. It was. That’s exactly how it went. A year and a half into our relationship and he started disappearing for nights on end. He was back doing coke again. I knew it, but I thought he had a handle on things. And let’s face it; there was no chance I would ever have stopped him. He was too headstrong, just like me. That’s why our relationship was as explosive as it was.

Things went downhill dramatically. He spent loads of money on drugs; MY money and his money, started getting heavily tattooed, hit the gym everyday because he was determined to be a bodybuilder, and I started to get a bit… left behind? He was out without me most nights, flirting and hanging off any pretty girl in the bar that would look at him. I was sat at home crying my eyes out after another nasty argument that left me on the bathroom floor, slicing chunks out of my legs. We were both desperate and needy in our own little ways.

We argued more and more towards the end, to the point where we couldn’t even be in the same room at the same time. We were so angry with each other. I don’t know how we ever got that angry with each other. We loved each other so much. What the hell had happened?

And Then He Broke My Heart

I started resenting how much time he as spending with his best friend, who wasn’t as into my boyfriend as my boyfriend thought he was. He started resenting how much time I was spending at work. I started hanging around with my bosses more and more, getting drunk, doing drugs, and having casual sex with complete strangers. Well, it was a couple of times, but that’s not the point.

I found condoms in his jeans one day when I was doing Big Love’s laundry and I hit the roof. The box had been opened and one was missing out of a packet of three, but he told me that he never used it. I remember having the biggest fight we’d ever had that night as he protested his innocence and I threw his work boot right through the wall and almost out the other side in an attempt to hit his head. I meant that throw too, even though I did miss and trash our house.

He was going to use it. He was going to cheat on me. He thought about it. But he didn’t do it. That’s what he said. I think a little part of me might have actually believed him.

We spiralled into a pattern of making up and breaking up, every three weeks or so. He used to work two weeks on and one week off, and every time he got to his one week off, he would go off his head partying again and he would break up with me so that he could fuck any girl he wanted and not feel guilty about it. He actually said that to me once. I don’t actually think he did fuck anyone. Then again, I’d never know. Who really knows? I wonder if he even knows?

Every time it was the same thing – we’d break up for a week, I’d start making plans to pack up my shit and go home, and he’d beg me to stay. Then he’d go away on his week off, we’d start fighting because I didn’t trust him and he just wanted to go out and do drugs again, and things went downhill really fast. He overdoses on cocaine at New Year, and I scrapped my plans to stay in and care for him. We got back together yet again that night… That was the last time though. That was the last time we were “properly” together.

Every time I attempted to leave, he’d try to stop me and for the most part, it usually worked. I would feel sorry for him and agree to stay, blindsided by my own obsession with him. As far as I was concerned, at the time, he was the best thing I could ever hope to land myself with. What a twat I was for believing such nonsense.

He lost his job. We got into debt. I worked myself into the ground trying to keep us both afloat. It wasn’t long before he found himself a new job, but by that point, I wasn’t even part of the equation and that was months before we had even broken up. Looking back at things now, I can see how much sooner I should have just walked away. To be fair, I never thought I would have ended up walking away at all. For once, he didn’t stop me. I did get on that plane. I’ve never looked back. Well, I have, but not on the outside; only to you guys.

And Then He Broke My Heart

Our relationship was insane. It was up and down, and round and round, and back again right to the beginning, before you had even had a chance to blink. We were so good when we were good, and so bad when we were bad. For six months I watched our relationship take a dramatic decline, and as much as I miss him, I can’t believe he treated me quite as badly as he did.

He used to say that I had an attitude problem. I think maybe I did, but only because of the situation we were in. He no longer took me out partying with him, choosing to go to strip bars and night clubs by himself. He didn’t really have any friends, and a lot of his work colleagues just thought he was a dousche. As I sit here and type this, I almost can’t remember what I liked about him in the first place. There’s certainly not a lot of that left in me now.

I learned a lot about myself in the decline of our relationship. That’s when I started smoking weed. I needed something to calm my thoughts and to chill me out. One of the things I hate the most in fights is when the other person walks out and leaves me to my own devices, something that he used to do every single fucking time. When I was left alone, that angry, my rage takes hold of me and that’s when I start to hurt myself again. I hated him for walking out on me all those times, and for being missing for as long as he was. At some points he was gone for days – five/six and more. I was left alone, fuming, wanting to pick up a razor blade. I picked up a joint instead. Funnily enough, I haven’t cut myself since then. I’m now a self-confessed pothead too. I guess we all find our own ways to survive, don’t we?

Big Love didn’t just break my heart. He grabbed my heart, tired it up into little tiny pieces, sprinkled it around me on the floor and then stamped on it right in front of my very eyes. He took a very scared girl with him to the other side of the world, and a mighty warrior of a woman came back to this side. And I am a warrior now. I am much stronger than I ever have been before, and I wont’ put up with any of that shit. I feel sorry for Jock really – he gets the brunt of it all.

Maybe I did deserve some of the stuff that Big Love did to me, but spending my money on his ex wife and his kid, keeping everything I ever bought for OUR house and sharing it with one of his many new girlfriends, and talking to me the way that he did was definitely not deserved at all. For that reason, I will never, ever talk to him again. I told him that the last time we spoke to each other, and I still mean that to this very day. I will never, ever want anything to do with him. I hope he can live with that in his conscience for the rest of his life. Now I understand why the women before me didn’t want anything to do with him either.

Maybe he broke their hearts too?

One thought on “And Then He Broke My Heart…

  1. Pingback: Why Won’t He Have Sex With Me? | Not So Sex in the City!

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