Tag Archives: relationships

This blog is back

28 Sep

…Yes it’s been a long time coming, and for that I apologise, but the truth is things have been kind of busy here at FSB towers.

In a nutshell:

* I quit my horrible job, and am now freelance. It’s only been two months, but things are picking up. And I’m a zillion times happier to be out of that hellhole.

* I’m now 30 and still living at home with my mum and step-dad. Despite this not being an ideal situation for man-hunting,  it’s vastly improved by the infinite supply of wine and the fact that they’ve let me convert the spare room into an office. Plus, to be honest, with most of my mates now coupled off or living on the other side of the country, it beats living on my own.  (Yeah it’s not cool to admit it, but I actually get on with my folks.)

* I had a mis-advised attempt to resurrect my ‘thing’ (we didn’t have enough dates to warrant calling it a relationship) with T.  in London earlier this year, resulting in us going for dinner, him apologising for being a shit, us having a very public mega-snog in a bar (cringe) and me sneaking him back to my very tiny hotel room. Did he call me afterwards? Did he fuck.

* I had (another) mis-advised attempt to resurrect my relationship (yes I am capable) with my ex after a weekend of amazing ex-sex at a mutual friend’s wedding. Attempts to rekindle anything other than sex have, unfortunately, not been very encouraging.
Most recently (i.e. in the last few weeks) I’ve had a couple of dates with a guy in Bristol that snogged in a bar last year.  We lost touch but when I recently changed my phone number and sent a text to all my contacts to let them know, he replied and we ended up exchanging a quick-fire series of flirtatious messages every day for about three weeks. We had two dates that (I thought) went well, then last weekend we were both a festival with our own friends and arranged to meet, except he never showed up and didn’t reply to my texts (I only sent two, I’m not a mad stalker bunny).

When he called me to apologise (a couple of days later) it turns out he bumped into an ex and spent the whole night chatting to her. Apparently they had “lots to sort out” but there was nothing “dodgy” to it and I have “nothing to worry about”. Whatever. I’m not the jealous sort and if a guy bumps into an ex he hasn’t seen for a while and wants to catch up that’s fine, but the whole night? While the new girl he’s dating is in the same area, wondering why her texts are being ignored and getting increasingly pissed off?  I don’t think so.

Anyway it’s his loss. I was even wearing my special “third date” knickers.

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Double fail: I get rejected for my dream job AND I get dumped

16 Dec

I haven’t written anything on here for a month. But in my defence, it’s been a really tough, shitty month.

I got an interview for my dream job at a national newspaper, a place I interned at while I was at university and have been desperate to get my foot back in the door there ever since. I cancelled all my plans – including an annual trip to see my oldest and bestest girlfriends and a Beth Orton concert with my sister – and spent a week solidly prepping for it.

The interview went well, or so I thought. Then last week I got a rejection email. Apparently I was a “very strong candidate” but some of my answers were not quite “specific enough”. I spent the rest of the day at work with a smile so fixed it felt like my face might crack and then bawled my eyes out in the car on the way home for the entire 45 minute journey, with nothing to dry my tears and wipe my snotty nose except the gross yellow duster I use to clean my windscreen.

The annoying thing is, the job was nothing I hadn’t done before in previous roles. I think perhaps nerves got the better of me at the interview and I rambled a bit. I should have popped two Beta Blockers beforehand instead of one. Or maybe three.

Then today I got dumped. For the second time this year.

I was due to go and see T. in London this weekend, and when I texted him to see what train I should book, he called me. I figured something was wrong because he never calls me, he only ever texts. We chatted for a bit about our weekend and I started to think I was just being paranoid as he was being perfectly normal. Then I decided to bite the bullet and asked if he still wanted me to visit.

To cut a long story short, he likes me but he doesn’t want to lead me on; he’s not sure he’s ready for this to get more serious as he just got out of an eight year relationship earlier this year; he drunkenly kissed another girl a couple of weeks ago (!) and feels really guilty about it, if I’d got the job at the national newspaper things might be different because I’d be moving to London but keeping things going long distance feels like a lot of pressure, blah, blah, blah.

The thing is, he was so nice about it that I actually ended up consoling him. “It doesn’t matter that you kissed someone else because we’d never really talked about what was going on between us” … “If you’re not comfortable with this then I’d rather you say so now rather than stringing me along” … “Thanks for being honest with me”… “Don’t worry, I’m not half as devastated as I was about the job”….

I am a fool and a push-over and right now it feels like I’m destined to be single and stuck in a job that’s about as creatively fulfilling as peeling onions with a spoon FOREVER.

A close shave

31 Oct

This morning after getting out of the shower I decided to give my lady garden a trim ahead of my appointment at the GUM clinic later. I have a special shaver for this, one of those Gillette devices that allows you to trim to various lengths. But because it was 6.30am and I was still half asleep and rushing to get ready for work, for reasons unknown I removed the safety shield on the razor.

Consequently I can now see A LOT more of Daphne than I have in a long time (yes I have a name for her, that’s not weird). I used be partial to a Brazilian wax, but in recent years I’ve become fonder of look that’s softer, more fuzzy (though still neat). Now I don’t even have so much as a landing strip to prove I’m over 16. Poor Daphne looks like GI Jane. My bikini line has been scalped. And what will T. think of my new buzz cut? There’s just three days to go before I see him next. All I can do is hope it grows back a bit more before then. Perhaps I should fashion some sort of merkin? Or cut my losses and go the whole hog and clean shave the lot?

Oh shit. I think I have an STD.

30 Oct

I’m so angry I have to write this down. Today a package arrived from Jealous Ex, with the wallet I left in his car three months ago, before I knew that would be the last time I saw him because he would dump me over the phone the day after I got back from holiday.

(Actually the package was from my former flatmate in Bristol, who’d posted it after JE dropped it off at my old flat because he couldn’t be bothered to post it himself. This is probably not relevant though.)

Anyway I texted JE to say thanks for dropping it off finally. And because I was still feeling bad that we never got to say a proper goodbye and had been arguing a lot towards the end, mostly because he was obsessed with the idea I’d been cheating on him, I sent him what I thought was a nice lets-get-some-closure-now text. Notice how I apologise even though I did nothing wrong because I’m trying to offer an olive branch. The very same one I’d like to crack over his head at this moment.

“I’m sorry it ended so badly with us. I hope if our paths ever cross again at some point we can be friendly. After all, we had some good times too! Bye x”

What I received back can only be described as a barrage of abuse, beginning with the line: “You’re so proud and so stubborn. I loved you and would have done anything for you. But you still went ahead and fucked me around.”

There it is. He still thinks I cheated on him, even though I never did and there is nothing to suggest otherwise.

I text back: “No need to be mean. I did love you too & if you believe that you’ll know I never fucked you around because I’m not that kind of girl.”

And get this: “You are a compulsive liar! You gave me an STD you fucking lack wit!”

At which point three things flash into my head:
1) Shit. I might have an STD.
2) Which one?
3) If I didn’t cheat on him (and I definitely didn’t) that means he must have cheated on ME.

There’s only one explanation I can think of. When JE and I broke up briefly at the beginning of the year, because he made me cry on my birthday by being an utter arse, he then went and slept with someone else. So maybe she gave him an STD, which means he probably passed it to me. I don’t have any symptoms, although I know with chlamydia there sometimes aren’t any. I’ve never even had crabs before. I’m freaking out a bit right now.

Actually, there is another possible explanation. JE is making the whole thing up because freaking me out is exactly what he wants to do. This hypotheses is strengthened by the fact that he won’t tell me what the alleged STD is because “why should I tell you the truth when you have never offered me the same courtesy. You lie all the time!!! See where it gets you…? I know you cheated on me. I hope it was worth it…”

Luckily my sister just happens to be a sexual health advisor and has kitted me out with a free chlamydia test where you just pee in a bottle and stick in in the post (after putting it in a sealed envelope first, of course). Her opinion is that JE is a psychotic jealous liar, which I’m inclined to agree with, although I’m going to get tested at the GUM clinic after work just in case. I’m still seeing T. in London every other weekend or so and thank God we’re using condoms, apart from recently when one broke and I had to get the morning-after pill. I’m going to wait for the test result before I mention anything to him.

If JE discovered he had an STD and didn’t warn me to get checked out that’s so fucked up and irresponsible I can’t even comprehend it. And if he’s lying, that’s just as bad. I can’t believe he’s being so nasty.

But really, it’s time for a reality check. Step away from the rose-tinted glasses. He was like this for pretty much our whole realtionship.

The last text I sent him read: “Thanks for being such a dick. I was actually starting to miss you.”

I try to remember how to play it cool

4 Oct

So just when I think I’m going crazy because I haven’t heard from T since spending an amazing weekend with him in London (although as my sister points out, this was only four days ago), I get a text from him on my way home from work. I’m so excited it’s all I can do to keep the car on the road.

“So, what are the chances of persuading you to come down to London, say next weekend? I’m worried there are parts of Brixton you haven’t seen x”

I breathe deep and try to remember how to play it cool (as if I ever knew).

“You mean there’s more to Brixton? I have an excruciating work awards ceremony on Friday [this is true, I can’t get out of it and I’m not even nominated for anything], but if you’d care to show me the sights on Saturday, I’d say your chances were pretty good… x”

“Done,” he says. “Yes there’s tons more stuff in Briston but I’ve changed my mind and I’m not gonna let you see any of it xx”

Two kisses? I can’t stop grinning.

I book a train to London for the following Saturday and text him to let him know what time I’ll be arriving. “Can’t wait,” I type.

Hang on, that’s not playing it cool. That’s playing it keen. I deleted that bit and sign-off with a jokey comment instead about already having seen the highlight of Brixton.

“I’ll meet you at the Tube station,” he texts back. “Can’t wait.”

I get the break-up blues

3 Oct

I can’t find my favourite coat. It’s a navy blue duffle coat with wooden togs and I wear it all the time, or at least I did before I lost it. I’ve asked around my family and friends but no one has seen it. And so, as a last resort, I text my ex.

“Hi, did I by any chance leave a navy duffle coat at your house? Cant find it anywhere! Hope things are good with you x”

An hour later he texts back: “Oh hello. I know the coat you mean, but it isn’t here. I hope things are good with you too! x”

But I want to know more. I want to know how his new job is going and if he ever managed to pass his degree (after failing it twice). I want to know if his annoying housemate ever moved out and I want to tell him some of the things about my holiday that I’d been looking forward to sharing when I was away, but then never did because he dumped me right out of the blue. I don’t want the the last time we ever see each other to be when he was driving in circles around the centre of Birmingham and I was in the passenger seat in tears because my airport transfer was set to leave in less than two minutes and we couldn’t find the bus stop because he refused to use the bloody satnav.

So I text back: “Ahh that’s too bad, I think it’s lost :( I have a couple of your books and a t-shirt that I can drop round next time I’m in Bristol if you like?”

To which he replies: “No it’s ok, take them to a charity shop if you don’t want them. Take care x”

I hate that phrase “take care”. It always sounds so much more final than “goodbye”. It’s what people always say when they know they’re never going to see you again.

And now I feel unexpectedly very sad. Not because I think we made a good couple, because we most definitely did not. I feel sad because we never got to say a proper goodbye. My sister thinks that it’s a bad idea and that if I saw him again we’d just end up sleeping together or arguing, or both. She’s probably right. But even so, I find it hard to accept that always when a relationship ends there’s never a chance to say all of the things you really want to say.
Like, I actually never cheated on you.
And, I think you need therapy for your jealousy issues.
And, do you KNOW how many times I paid for dinner?

Even so, I should probably stop sleeping in his old t-shirt.

I get dumped – for NOT being unfaithful

2 Sep

“I’ve been kind of dreading this call,” he said.

I groaned. But hadn’t I seen it coming? Hadn’t I been mentally rehearsing my break-up speech on the 12-hour flight home from Sri Lanka only a day earlier? Had I bought him a sweet but inexpensive souvenir gift that I could easily palm off on somebody else just in case we split up? Hadn’t I spilled my guts out to my friends on holiday about how his jealous streak was out of control, Continue reading

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