Tuesday, 29 March 2011


Oh, hello, lovely reader.

I’ve been having a look at my Blogger stats, and it seems that the most frequently read posts on my blog are the ones that caused me the most pain and suffering whilst under construction. If you are a regular reader, you might have guessed that these blogs are the ones featuring my horrific love life.

I have, so far, told you about two boys who have managed in some way to make me contemplate murder: Fringe and Idiot. I invite you to revisit those tales if, by some chance, you haven’t revelled in my relationship-based misery yet.


Idiot was definitely the worst boyfriend I have ever had, but he was by no means the first (and hopefully not the last). There were a few short-lived disasters before him and, frankly, they were all rubbish. So I thought it might be fun to tell you about another spectacular failure...

Are we sitting comfortably? No? I shall begin anyway...

When I started university, I did not have a boyfriend. By the second week of university, however, I had managed to get one. He lived in my building, so for the purposes of anonymity, we shall refer to him as Dorm.

(Everyone who goes to university as a single person will probably, at some point, go out with someone because it is convenient. TOP TIP: There are definitely better reasons to go out with someone, so try looking for those first.)

Like in the Idiot scenario, people were quite jealous of my boyfriend at first. He was quite funny, he was on the rugby team, and he seemed completely undeterred by the fact that I was essentially hideous at that point in my life. He was really attentive, overly romantic, and very in touch with his feelings. Those last three are points that most people find attractive. BUT I DON’T. And so began the problems.

During week five of university, a mere three weeks into our hideous relationship, Dorm decided that he wanted to change his facebook status to In A Relationship. I didn’t want to do that, though, because I hadn’t told my mum that I had a boyfriend yet, and didn’t want to deal with the phone call that would inevitably follow.

What did I do? Well, I deleted my facebook. Quite ingenious, I think you’ll agree.

I started avoiding him a bit more after that, because all he ever wanted to do was talk about feelings. And not even in a good way. In a creepy way.

As you may have gathered, the most unfortunate thing about Dorm - aside from the fact that he had bleached his hair during Freshers Week - was that he was MENTALLY UNSTABLE. Therefore, every time I mentioned that this relationship was perhaps unwise, he would cry and make some vague reference to suicide. WHAT A CATCH!

However, we know that I am no longer going out with him, and I can assure you that he is still very much alive, so SOMETHING SPECTACULAR must have happened to tear us asunder. Here is what that thing was:

SOMEONE spread a rumour that I had spent the night with another male person.

That someone was me.