Monday, 10 January 2011

Happy New Year.

I had a boyfriend a few months ago. His name was Idiot and for a year and a half I thought he was the best thing in the world. He bought jewellery, he sent flowers and he had a car - what more could I want in life? As if that wasn't enough, all of my friends were super jealous because I had a grown-up boyfriend with a good job and his own house.

It wasn't all good though. No it was not. Mostly because he was a BIG FAT LIAR.

There were a few things that should have ended it really, but three stand out more than the rest.

1. When we first got together, he forgot to mention that his ex-girlfriend was pregnant.
But I got over that.

2. A few months later, he forgot to mention that the baby had been born and that he was an ACTUAL DAD.
But I got over that.

3. A few weeks after that, he remembered to tell me that he had let his ex-girlfriend move in with him.
I did not get over that.

What happened next was something that I am not proud of*. I would love to tell you that I turned my back on him - following a witty quip - and got on with my life, but the opposite happened. In the simplest possible terms, I went a bit psycho. I was, essentially, hysterical. I screamed, I shouted, I cried. I brought forth the entire emotional arsenal. At one point I may have hit him, but that could well be wishful thinking.

After that bit was over, and it didn't last as long as you would think considering how much of a twat he was, I found myself feeling a bit sorry for him. Only two days of silent treatment later, I started replying to his texts again.

(Can anybody guess what's going to happen next? My mother could see it from a mile off.)

I re-fell in love with him. Stupid, stupid girl.

There was a brief relationship after that, I won't lie to you. I actually took him back with every intention of giving it a go. In my defence, I did assume that he would be asking his skanky ex to leave.

In a strange twist of fate, it was actually Idiot who decided to end our relationship. Sort of. I was a wreck by then, and probably couldn't have strung together the words necessary to adequately tell him to fuck right off. And he didn't even end it. What he actually did was ignore me for two weeks, decide that I was actually the best thing that was ever likely to happen to him and try to come crawling back.



It's 2011 now, as you probably know, and so it is officially the time when everyone decides to pretend that the previous year didn't happen. I will do exactly that.
I will rise above this situation and try my very best not to compare myself to the creatures of the Jeremy Kyle show. 

Happy New Year.
Even you, Idiot.**

*I'm not necessarily ashamed of my reaction, because I think I was more than reasonable. In fact, if I had lopped his head off with a glass manicure stick, I think I would still consider myself reasonable. But I do think that I would have felt better if I had left the room with a little more dignity.
**I was always much too pretty and much too clever to be your girlfriend. Everybody agreed.