Today’s the day

As of yesterday I drove 3 hours after work to see ine of my oldest friends. I just needed to get away and get out of the house.

Beard boy messaged me asking if I was attending his friend’s 30th. I said no. Another text- he sent me a long winded message about needing the pin code. I sent him the pin code. I drove along the highway for another 4 minutes before a third text- “Are you at home or are you in Canberra?” I sighed, I knew what this was going to turn into. I responded and said I was on the highway.

It seems blunt, I was trying to be. I didn’t want to message him I wanted to wait until I got home. Its part of the reason we fight, I bitch out and only want to communicate via text. Very unhealthy.

He became short, wished me a good night I did the same. 20 minutes later another message. Fuck.

“I love you. I hate that our relationship is at this point”

Damnit

“I love you too. Go out and have fun with your friends tonight. We can talk when I’m back tomorrow.”

“Honestly….my night was ruined when you said you weren’t coming”

“Hey, cmon don’t be like that. I’m just here”

The next message waffled on about me not being there and being in Canberra where I go fuck another man by the name of Chad who has abs and a double dick. I reassured him that wasn’t the case. Im going away for a girls night.

Since then no contact its been nice. But now I’ve woken up today and its the day… Im so nervous. Theres a lot to talk about.

Number one fuck up

My heart is broken.

Beard boy broke up with me on Monday and now life is upside down and I’m still not sure what we are.

We fought…it was my fault. For the last 12 months I said I would deal with the trust issues and work on them with him…I didn’t acknowledge his changes. I didn’t acknowledge his effort. I was horrible.

He broke it off, I fought for him. He didn’t want me to fight. He has had enough.

The Tuesday I called our bank to enquire about closing ou account and splitting the funds. They called him to verify it. I wasn’t closing it, I was enquiring. He felt so thrown under the bus. We messaged (the whole fucking problem, but do I learn?) I was horrible, I said hurtful things just because I was hurt. I regret it.. all of it. He told me he thought we would just argue and make up. I held out hope. We argued, he stormed out I went to bed. 2 hours later I woke up to him spooning me in bed and crying into my hair. We slept together. It was such a mistake.

Wednesday we still hadn’t spoken. I cried my eyes out at work all day. I sent him the most heart breaking email. I said I missed him. I said I didn’t mean the things I said. I told him that I love him. I told him I don’t want to break up. I told him I wanted to change my outlook and I meant it.

He replied “I love you.”

That night I asked him what was going on. I was shaking I was crying so much. He said he wanted to take the week. I agreed. I sobbed myself into broken sleep.

Thursday I felt better, our bank called me and said he had called to cancel our bank account cancellation. Hope.

I saw my shrink and I vented and she taught me a mindfulness method. I need to bot be so negative in my thinking and not assume the worst. She was right.

I came home, he was speaking to me. Hope. He didn’t think coming to bed was a good idea. I went to bed crying.

Friday, the day I don’t fucking learn. I told a relative we we’re on a break and that it was looking good…we’d probably get over it. Then she sent me a screen shot of a woman blatantly flirting with him. I saw red. I cried, I screamed. I did exactly what I was told to not do. I escalated the situation. I sent him a message with the screenshot captioned “Thanks.”

Well did I get a rude shock to the system. That girl is trans and works at his local vape shop, apparently I’ve met her….just not as her.

He’s angry obviously, I only have myself to blame.

Number one fuck up goes to me.

Happy anniversary I’m probably going to kill myself

Its track day! Fuckboy (the boyfriend has been beardless all year now so I can no longer call him Beard boy) bought a track bike and today is his first run. He has been riding Harley’s for years and his work colleagues talked him into racing. 

For the past twenty four hours its been non stop affection. ‘I love you’ every second or third text, constant cuddles, kisses and adoration. As bike racing is high speed I think he’s come to the conclusion something may happen so we need to get in as much love as possible. 

Over lunch he was telling me he loved everything about me. Number four being that I feed him. I’m obviously going to ask what the top three are and if my blow job skills aren’t in there I’ll be offended. 

But in all seriousness watching him race is nice but nerve racking. It has made me think about all the weird accidents or happenings that occur in everyday life that result in never saying I love you again. That frightens me more than anything.

Since today is also our anniversary (TV bait for a tragic news report) I asked for him not to hurt himself and thats all I wanted. No dinner. No presents. Just him coming to bed tonight with a smile.

Fingers crossed I won’t end up at the hospital with him tonight!

The talk

I came home late from work. All day I felt anxious and to a degree panic. He was his usual affectionate self which made it harder. I said no to cuddling and he knew what we had to talk about. 

He wants me to leave. He wants me to be safe and he can’t guarantee that he won’t see red again. It’s been happening since he was six years old, he mentally blacks out and finds chaos when he wakes up the next day. No doctor can work it out or medicate him. He blames it on the years of physical abuse that he went through with one of his early partners. I think its in connection with his schizophrenia, but I didn’t say it.  

For an hour he wouldn’t look at me. He rolled over and said it’s done, just leave. For an hour I told him why I wasn’t going to until he started to listen and came around. Yes, he did put his hands on me. Yes, he did throw my clothes out the window. Yes, he screamed at me, made me cry and scared me but that’s not the man I love. 

I’m not taking the easy way out. 

I cried, he cried, we cuddled, he slipped my hand into his underwear and his hand found its way into my panties. 

The day after

From last night/this mornings drama Beard boy has been attached to my side. Everytime he touches me I flinch or hold my breath. I can’t make eye contact with him or have a long conversation. 

We’ve had sex twice and for that period of time I can forget. Once we’re done its back to feeling anxious and scared of the one person I thought would never hurt me. 

I picked up all of my belongings ten minutes ago and put them away. He helped naturally but I couldn’t look at him or kiss him when he tried. I just feel betrayed and scared. Love is not feeling terrified by the touch of your partner. I don’t know what will happen now and it scares me as much as he does right now.

Love…

I heard when you’re in love its all butterflies and rainbows. Tonight I learned it is never butterflies and rainbows. It’s trust and kindness that make a relationship or break it. 

Since my move to Sydney I have become bitter and nasty towards my partner, resentful was the word he used. To a degree  I have been. He’s been an easy outlet for all my anger and frustration until tonight. 

We’ve argued before about how mean and nasty I can become. I took the implanon out of my arm thinking that was the trigger for my rage. I was wrong. 

We fought because I didn’t want to cuddle in bed because I had to finish the washing. It escalated to a point he started throwing my belongings onto the front lawn. He grabbed and shoved me a few times. Called me various names. Trashed his parents house. And told me to get the fuck out. 

For the second time in my life someone who is supposed to love me has put their hands on me. Even though we worked it out I’m still awake at 4am scared and more alone than ever. 

I can safely say I deserved it.

The aftermath- Part two.

I stupidly followed Beard boy from the centre of town to the residential area. He pulled into a side street, I parked in the street over and waited. He walked back to my car and told me to follow him, again he tried reaching out for my hand. I pulled away.
He led me down the side street to an open garage with his bike sitting inside.
Beard boy hit the lights and walked me upstairs to his apartment. It was a mess, much like his life. He mumbled something about the mess and opened the sliding door to the balcony. Meet Dogma..the cutest mixed breed behemoth dog I’ve ever met. I don’t actually remember being tackled to the ground but I remember being on the floor, giggling like an idiot while getting puppy kisses.

“So..your at my house…I don’t really let people up here…or to meet Dogma”
“Cool story. Stop wasting time.”
“Can we talk in my room…Dogma is settling in for the night..”
“Make it quick.”

He led me into the mess that was apparently his bedroom. Clothes all over the floor to the point he couldn’t properly open the bedroom door. I vaguely remember asking if I was going to catch the clap. He sat down on the left hand side of the bed and patted the right. I sat at the end of the bed and crossed my legs.

“Five minutes starts now.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you. I miss you. I screwed up.”
“No, you royally fucked up.”
“Yes. I did. Majorly. I want to try and fix this.”
“Bit late for that.”
“Kae-“
“No. I’m going home now.”

I was grabbed and pulled by my waist towards the headboard.
He started to sob, the tears hit my cheeks before he broke down crying into my chest. He mumbled sorry over and over.

“Calm down.”
“Please..listen….I like you so much I should’ve told you about everything…she should’ve left earlier. I want you and I want to fight for you.”

I started crying. I tried to subtly wipe the tears away but he noticed. He sat up and pulled me into his chest and we both sat there sobbing. He kissed my forehead and started rubbing my back. 

“What do you want to do?”
“Stab you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t know…”
“Well…is there any spark left?”

Continuing to cry I think answered the question. I was disgusted with myself. This man had played me, ruined my body countless times and messed with my emotions, yet I still felt a spark.
He kissed my head and then my lips. All of my anxiety, frustration and hurt melted away. I had no dignity left so why should I give a fuck?
I appled minimal pressure to his lips, before I knew it my clothes were ripped off and his head was between my legs.

We fooled around for hours. He watched me while I masturbated, occasionally pushing my hands away to replace them with his mouth. He mumbled something about wishing he had eaten me out sooner…he liked how sweet I tasted.
He came, I didn’t. He lied in bed recovering, while I pulled my underwear on. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into his chest.

“Move.”
“Cuddles.”
“I have to go.”
“Stay…just a little longer..please?”

I stayed until he started snoring. Threw my clothes on and went back to my aunts house.
I woke up the next morning to a text sent at 3am.

“Can you come back tonight?”

The aftermath- Part one.

A fortnight after my hospital trip life was uneventful. I was hitting the gym, dyed my hair, working hard and hanging out with my family. I refused to respond to Beard boys pleas to see me or respond in anyway.
I felt good about myself again. After a few ‘D&M’ sessions with my three close girl friends I started to stop blaming myself for his fuck up.

That week my manager/good friend was going away for a fortnight on annual leave overseas. This meant I was in charge but would have to work almost every day for the fortnight she was gone. I organised to stay at my aunts home while she was away also on holidays overseas. My manager was apprehensive about leaving me after dropping Beard boy. I told her it would be fine and I had the trainees to spy for her.
It was mid Thursday while I was eating lunch when I received a text.

“I’ll be waiting for you after work.”
“I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“Kae please. Ten minutes and you will never hear from me again.”
“You get five. I’ll delete my number, texts and phone log.”

5:30pm rolled around and we were finished for the day. I took the elevator to my car and peeked out the door. There was no obnoxious Sportster parked next to my car. That changed when I was three steps from my car door when I heard a stupidly loud motor bike engine at the roundabout. By the time I threw my bag in the back seat he was already parked next to me.

“I didn’t think you would be here.”
“Your time starts now and I’m timing it.”
“I seriously fucked up. I should’ve asked her to leave months ago-“
“Were you fucking me and her at the same time?”
“No. We haven’t been together since March.”
“So you finished fucking her in March and started on me in April. Awesome.”
“Its not like that. She had nowhere else to go when we broke up, I didn’t want to pay her way back home. What was i supposed to do? Throw her out on the street?”
“Or not lead me on”

“I wanted to get to know you. I wanted to hang out with you. I wanted to be more than friends. I want to be with you. I just wanted you.”
“Bull shit. I told you, I don’t play second best. You lied this whole time and you made me be the other girl.”
“You aren’t the other girl..I feel like I cheated on you not her. I am so sorry. I didn’t think. I should have told you she was living with me. I should have asked her to leave when I started to like you this much. I…I don’t know how to fix this but I want to…I want you…I just want you back.”
“I can’t trust you.”

Until that moment I had never seen a grown man cry before. I’m no stranger to ‘fake crying’ I do it myself and I can spot it a mile away. He reached out for my hand, I tensed it into a fist; he held onto it regardless.

“Five minutes is up.”
“We aren’t done.”
“Whats more to say. You had a fucking fiancé. You were fooling around with me on the side. You lied about everything. Am I missing something?!”
“We obviously aren’t done if your still shouting. Lets talk in private.”
“I’m comfortable here.”
“You haven’t stopped shivering since I got here. Follow me, I’ll make coffee, we can talk.”
“….Fine. Five more minutes thats it.”

The recap.

So it has come to my attention that I have been an incredibly slack blogger. I apologise for that.

Let me recap. Since the massive falling out with Beard boy I threw myself into work, so much so that I made myself sick from stress and was hospitalised. The night before I went out with my girlfriends (numbing the horrible stomach cramps with copious amounts of alcohol) I angrily drunk texted Beard boy.

“Why?”

I went home at midnight and by seven the next morning I was being rushed to hospital by my mum. I was placed in E.R immediately and given strong pain killers while the nurses asked questions. Nine am swings around and my phone buzzed I checked the message and my blood pressure machine squealed.

“I have no excuse. I just wanted you.”
“So I was just a game? Awesome.”
“No, you were never a game.”
“Are you sure? Last I checked I was a play thing while you still had a girlfriend.”

By now my nurse had come in to check the machine, she found me furiously texting before throwing my phone into the bed.
“I’m assuming the monitor is correct. I’m also going to assume the person you’re texting is causing the monitor to go off. Unless you can compose yourself I’ll be taking your phone until your discharged.”

“Can we talk about us properly this week..I need to see you and explain everything.”
“I know I don’t deserve to ask anything of you but please can I see you.”
“Go away, your putting my blood pressure through the roof and the nurse will take my phone.”
“Your mums not a nurse.”
“I’m in hospital. Go the fuck away.”
“Why are you in Hospital? Are you okay? What have they said?”
“Fuck off.”
“I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”
“Don’t bother. I do not want you here”
“Fine. Will you please tell me whats wrong at least?”
“No idea.”
“Do I really put your blood pressure that high?”
“Yes, so go away.”

Three hours later, multiple big breaths and a phone on 3% battery, I had it out with Beard boy…Well I ranted, raved and cursed enough to feel less crappy. The doctors figured it was all stress related and told me to take the rest of the week off for some rest and relaxation. I was back at work the next day.

Being the other girl seriously sucks.

My week of Hell

It’s been exactly one week since my ‘Hell week’ started. All had been fine on all fronts, Beard boy was still being his affectionate self, work was fine, no family drama and I was in a good place health wise. That all went to shit.

Last Tuesday I was on with my Manager (who is now one of my good friends) and our new trainee. I was checking Facebook on my phone when I noticed Beard boy posted something work related. I went to ‘like’ the post when I hit comments instead. My heart broke. I smacked my phone off the bench and stormed into the back room. My manager followed me with my unharmed phone (thank god!) And asked what that was. I opened the page for her, his supposed ex-girlfriend left a comment.

“All this hot merch. Should I make room for it in our closet now ;)”

My manager hugged me, I wanted to scream. Being a mature twenty two year old I left a ‘thumbs up’ emoji on her comment and sent him a quick text.

“Have a great life.”

I removed him from Instagram, Facebook and deleted all of his messages including his number. I received no response. The next day encouraged by my manager I sent him an inbox.

“So should I ask you what the go is or should I just ask the girl you’re sharing a wardrobe with?”
Just as I brought lunch I received the response.

“There’s nothing I can say that won’t sound like an excuse. Ex-girlfriend and I broke up, got back together, broke up, and got back together. She has now moved out completely as of last night. I know nothing I can say can fix what I have done. I’m sorry for lying to you, but at least now you know.”

I sat in the back room tears rolling down my cheeks in a creepy calm way I have never experienced before. My colleague called my Manager and she ran down from her apartment to see me. She tried comforting me, told me he was a scumbag and asked if she could punch him in the face for me. She’s cute.
I was eventually sent home from work early (as I couldn’t stop crying and scaring the customers) it took me precisely seventeen minutes to get home. The drive generally takes over an hour. I cried my eyes out to my best friend and she fed me cake. I went home, continued crying to mum.

Never have I been the other girl. Never have I felt so pathetic.