My TimeHop this morning gave me another shitty reminder of just what I was doing a year ago today. Yep, that’s right. Another Jock-related post. Fuck, why can’t I just get him out of my head?!
It was a very drunken photo of the Redneck and I. We’d all gone out that night – the Columbian, the Redneck, Jock and little old me. The Columbian had taken a bit of persuading. In fact, he had a fight with his girlfriend to come out that night, because she wouldn’t let him. Wouldn’t let him? Are we kids now, back in high school? Pathetic.
Well, I got blind drunk. It was the same town that the Hubby was based at, and I was adamant he was somewhere around, lurking behind every dark corner. The thought of bumping into him that night absolutely terrified me.
I called the Columbian a cunt. I called his girlfriend a cunt too, and she wasn’t even there! I called Jock a cunt. I was full of the C-word. The exact reason I don’t drink anymore…
I was an angry drunk that night, and I was ashamed of my behaviour. The next morning was just as horrific as the night before, and between me getting lost walking in the middle of the woods trying to find a store to buy tampons and water, and us calling each other a cunt one more time, it’s a night we could probably all do with forgetting about.
We didn’t go out that often together, mostly because I was an angry drunk. The first night we went out and had a few drinks, I smacked him around the face because he was being a prick. Throwing his money around and buying bottle of champagne, I’d already asked him to calm down once and told him he wasn’t impressing me, so when he kept doing it, I reckon he knew the smack was coming.
It didn’t happen every night. In fact, there were more than a few nights we went out and had a bloody good time, but when it exploded, man did it explode. Like the night he abandoned me at the Summer Ball, and then verbally abused me all the way home. That wasn’t the guy I started dating right there, I don’t know who that man was. I guess the old, soldier-boy inside him was a proper prick. Just like the younger version of me was a proper prick too – the part of me that tends to come out after I’ve had a few drinks.
You can take the girl out of Chav-land, but you can’t take Chav-land out of the girl. Apparently.
I can’t believe that was a year ago. My relationship with him feels like a lifetime away now – before I got super sick and met Someone New. Isn’t it funny how much can change in just twelve months?
I wonder if he still thinks of me. I wonder if he looks back and remembers what we were doing a year ago? I wonder if part of him still looks back at those times we shared and giggle, just like I do? Or occasionally cry?
Probably Not. Tosser.