Illegible's Sexual History Part II - In and Out of Love
My first proper relationship was definitely fucked.
While my friends pulled 10 blokes a night in Ikon, I wore a white-gold ring on my finger and spent nights in with him naming our future babies.
M was the most sought-after bloke in the college, and I was absolutely smitten. For a year or so, it was bliss. We spent every second declaring our undying love for one another, and we were unbreakable.
Unfortunately, these situations rarely have a happy ending
The source of our communal jealousy was undoubtedly the pessimism of everyone else in the world. "Young love never lasts", "You're childhood sweethearts", "It's just passion, it'll die". I hated those people back then. Now, I am of course one of them.
Born for each other? More like born to fuck each other up
That three-year relationship taught me everything I needed to know about relationships, both the good and the downright ugly.
Throwing chairs at each other, smashing glasses in pubs, me lying on the floor in a drunken, fucked up state with my friends threatening to punch him if he didn't leave me alone and stop yelling at me, physical fights.... I wasn't allowed to wear this or that, or act in certain ways. All very controlling. It was hardly what dreams are made of.
When he went away to uni, he fucked a fat, brash slag with orange make-up behind my back. She was everything he forbade me from being, and that made me feel sick. Now, I almost look back in amusement. But at the time, it broke me completely.
I took him back. Everyone around us knew us as a couple. I wanted to prove them right, and I wanted to prove the haters wrong. I wanted us to be together forever, against all odds. So we tried to make it work.
The relationship had always been stormy, but it went from bad to worse. I lost three stone with the worry. He walked around with a pained expression on his face, fucked over himself by the permanent sense of guilt he had with me and everyone else reminding him of the mess he'd made.
Then I went to uni and that doubled the mess. I suppose I got stronger. I made new friends, who knew me for who I was rather than who I used to be. They didn't understand why I put up with him phoning me in the middle of the night calling me a slag and accusing me of things I hadn't done. Or why I put up with him generally.
We broke up
It was the hardest thing I've ever done, but I needed to do it. If I'd stayed at home, I probably never would have had the strength.
The batteral of that relationship is now firmly in my past. It ended four years ago. What happened doesn't even hurt anymore, but it took me a long time to reach that point.
Blame
I have no doubt in my mind that we were both equally to blame for the problems we had. He had an alcohol problem, and we both had an attitude problem. We thought the sun shone out of our own arses, and each other's, and we probably needed all that to take us down a peg or two.
Apologies
I didn't really want to write this entry. I can't go into as much detail as I would like, or list every fuck-up that led to the ultimate cuntishness of it all. But it had to be done, for the sake of continuity, and to take me to Part III.
While my friends pulled 10 blokes a night in Ikon, I wore a white-gold ring on my finger and spent nights in with him naming our future babies.
M was the most sought-after bloke in the college, and I was absolutely smitten. For a year or so, it was bliss. We spent every second declaring our undying love for one another, and we were unbreakable.
Unfortunately, these situations rarely have a happy ending
The source of our communal jealousy was undoubtedly the pessimism of everyone else in the world. "Young love never lasts", "You're childhood sweethearts", "It's just passion, it'll die". I hated those people back then. Now, I am of course one of them.
Born for each other? More like born to fuck each other up
That three-year relationship taught me everything I needed to know about relationships, both the good and the downright ugly.
Throwing chairs at each other, smashing glasses in pubs, me lying on the floor in a drunken, fucked up state with my friends threatening to punch him if he didn't leave me alone and stop yelling at me, physical fights.... I wasn't allowed to wear this or that, or act in certain ways. All very controlling. It was hardly what dreams are made of.
When he went away to uni, he fucked a fat, brash slag with orange make-up behind my back. She was everything he forbade me from being, and that made me feel sick. Now, I almost look back in amusement. But at the time, it broke me completely.
I took him back. Everyone around us knew us as a couple. I wanted to prove them right, and I wanted to prove the haters wrong. I wanted us to be together forever, against all odds. So we tried to make it work.
The relationship had always been stormy, but it went from bad to worse. I lost three stone with the worry. He walked around with a pained expression on his face, fucked over himself by the permanent sense of guilt he had with me and everyone else reminding him of the mess he'd made.
Then I went to uni and that doubled the mess. I suppose I got stronger. I made new friends, who knew me for who I was rather than who I used to be. They didn't understand why I put up with him phoning me in the middle of the night calling me a slag and accusing me of things I hadn't done. Or why I put up with him generally.
We broke up
It was the hardest thing I've ever done, but I needed to do it. If I'd stayed at home, I probably never would have had the strength.
The batteral of that relationship is now firmly in my past. It ended four years ago. What happened doesn't even hurt anymore, but it took me a long time to reach that point.
Blame
I have no doubt in my mind that we were both equally to blame for the problems we had. He had an alcohol problem, and we both had an attitude problem. We thought the sun shone out of our own arses, and each other's, and we probably needed all that to take us down a peg or two.
Apologies
I didn't really want to write this entry. I can't go into as much detail as I would like, or list every fuck-up that led to the ultimate cuntishness of it all. But it had to be done, for the sake of continuity, and to take me to Part III.
posted by A Girl Like Me | 1:08 pm
Leave the guilt... a burden that is not worth the effort, and it is your choice alone. Brighter days lay ahead. Learn from the past. It will always be a part of you, but it can be put in a place that it does no harm.
Cheers!
My point exactly!