I assume you figured out by now who I referred to in my anticipated date – of course it had been Cowboy Steve, Kettlethief I decided to give another chance. I still cannot understand why it is that this particular guy had such a deep emotional hold over me but then if we understood love this whole boy-girl thing would not be the mystery it is.
Our date itself isn’t really worth an elaborate story, as it was not special in any way at all. We just picked up where we had left off a couple months ago as if nothing had ever happened – I went round to his as usual, the initial hello was a little awkward as we both did not really know what to say or do. We started talking eventually, ordered pizza, and at some point he started kissing me and we ended up in bed about ten minutes later for an alright but ultimately average if not brief interaction. There wasn’t a round two which was a little disappointing. I made a mental note that he wasn’t allowed on the red next time until after the deed.
He had bought me another perfume which seemed to promise things getting better, but as it turned out they were not. We had the same rows over his lack of communication. And because it was still niggling in the back of my brain, I kept questioning him about his ‘friend’, he had been on holiday with a week after we broke up. He did not take too kindly to that, getting angry and insisting as she was just his friend, I obviously had trust issues.
Things kept going, although a little on the rough side. He could still go for days not talking to me. When I got annoyed with him, he told me I was being dramatic, he was busy with work and family things. Of course I accepted that because I was busy myself and despite the little niggles in my brain, I believed his promises that things would get better soon, once this project at work was dealt with and he had sorted out some things for his mom. It never happened.
Of course this is just as much my fault as it is his if not even more so. Why? Because I willingly made excuses for him. Having to admit that you wasted nearly two years of your life on a c*** like that who doesn’t give a shit of you get hit by a bus, not a great feeling. The thing I failed to realise was that he behaved the way he did towards me because he could. He didn’t have any deep meaningful feelings for me, he knew that if he snapped his fingers I came running back. And I sat tight. I hoped at some point, soon, things would be different, because he promised they would be and you don’t play games anymore at our age. Because despite the promises, thrown at me when he thought I was about to jump ship, he never had any intention of following through with them. And the only reason he stuck with this for as long as he did is because it was easier than going on Tinder and going through the whole pulling another girl thing again.
Writing this down and reading it back, I feel so unbelievably shit about my lack of judgement and general letting-myself-down-ness, I really just want to crawl under a rock and cry. Letting myself down like this is something I had promised myself would not happen again. Allowing some emotionally defunct dude to mess with my head and my heart in such a way. And here I am, feeling as bad if not worse than the first time round. Excuse the self pity. Every so often, we can allow ourselves to get immersed in it, as long as we pick ourselves up thereafter. I’m still waiting for that. Pass the rope please.