GUEST POST BY Tommy Hibbitts
Deep breaths, deep breaths. Count to ten like they teach you at Yoga. Don’t let him get to you…Don’t let hi- ‘WHY DON’T YOU JUST FUCK OFF?’
I had snapped. A recurring reaction to my not so sweet ex-boyfriend. I’m sure you have been in this situation before, and if you haven’t I applaud you with every inch of my envious heart. They just tend to do things that annoy the hell out of you…like walking too loudly or breathing. Breathing tends to irritate the hell out of me. It wasn’t always this way. My hopelessly romantic naivety has now been replaced with a soul-devoured ice heart. Did I mention I live with my Ex? I know…I lost my mind ages ago.
It isn’t easy to admit that I am the reason that the two of us split up. 21 years and not as ready for a romance as one had imagined prior to my catastrophic relationship. Rictor scale 7.0. But I remember falling head over heels for a guy who happened to be a drag queen. That shit doesn’t phase me, I’m all for being who the hell you wanna be. It was a sweet sweet start to a disastrous ending. I thought that he was the one (currently playing the world’s smallest violin)
He made me laugh, I made him laugh. We got on like a house on fire which is ironic because that’s what I feel like doing to our house sometimes. All pettiness aside, it’s a shame that it ended, but the ‘we’ll still be friends,’ bullshit I knew in the back of my mind it would be difficult. I now know I was right and it’s impossible.
I’m now completely over him. But I now resent him. His blatant disregard for attempting to clean the dishes he leaves for days correctly *note, squeeze fairy liquid, turn hot tap on, grab sponge and wipe vigorously until squeaky clean. Isn’t that basic knowledge? I swear for my health it isn’t good. I think he just isn’t good for my health in general. When we were together I was like Kerry Katona when she was in need of her next line of cocaine. Needy. I’m not needy. No man will ever make me needy again. I’m sure whoever is reading this knows exactly what I’m talking about. It goes from one extreme to the other. I’m too much of a cue cliché free spirit to even be thinking about this now that I’m single and I have certainly been mingling. But when you wake up in the morning to grab your cup of (organic of course) coffee and there’s a parasite sitting on the sofa sucking all your energy from across the room, like a dementor sucking your soul, it’s hard to not burn that motherfucker with the coffee in your mug. I smile a big, fake smile. Nobody has ever made me feel like this about another human being. It isn’t me, but we’re too stuck in this vicious contract to do anything about it. Momma needs her deposit, and momma won’t get her deposit if she just ups and leaves. The place is a mess anyway. Our relationship is a mess, and my hair right now is a mess because I haven’t washed it for a week but that’s irrelevant information.
Now that I have vented some issues on how I feel, a slight weight has been lifted. Not the weight that is there from Christmas, that still needs lifting, but I feel happier. I also feel a bit like a bitch because I haven’t told him to his face how much his mere existence is making me mentally struggle as much as it is, but I’m dealing with it. Disclaimer: He’s a lovely boy, and I wouldn’t have fallen for him like I did if he wasn’t…but everybody loves a dickhead. Maybe I was the dickhead? I’m the first to admit there are two sides to every story.
I feel like throughout this you’re probably sitting there wanting to grab me, give me a shake and say man the fuck up. Please do. The world doesn’t owe me a favour, there are certainly worse things going on in the world than my seemingly pathetic attempt at my first relationship but love hurts and we all know that. But don’t forget that there is a thin line between love and hate. Once you cross that line you just fall deeper and deeper into a pit of soul destroying torture and it feels like you’ll never get out.