23/12/2009

Yesterday as me and my mum were watching  TV, a text came through on my mum’s phone. It was my ex boyfriend. Not King. This was a guy I broke up with in February this year. I had already fallen out of love with him about four months earlier but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him because a.) I was scared of being alone b.) I had this false perception that we’d gone through a lot therefore it was my obligation to stay.

How naïve could anyone get? Sometimes when I look back at me then, I laugh at myself. I’m just so glad I’ve grown up. I held down this ‘relationship’ for four and a half years. FOUR AND A HALF YEARS! I never cheated, never even thought of it. Never even allowed myself to think of any other man, and, it was a long distance relationship to boot! I look back at it sometimes and feel like kicking myself because it wasn’t a ‘relationship’. It was an obsession. You know when you are in high school and all the other girls are about boys, boys, boys and more boys? I got into this ‘thing’ because I didn’t want to be left out. I wanted to be ‘one of those girls’…then, it became all I knew. We met for the first time when I was 15. This guy said he loved me and forced me to say I loved him too on the first day. Out of no experience I said it and thought that was OK. Due to some peculiar circumstances, I never saw him again for three and a half years ( despite living in the same country, same region), yet for some reason I still believed I loved him very much and he felt the same way too. We did the texts, phone calls, emails thing ( I mostly did it…infact, I did it all the time because he had no money) Everytime he planned to visit, something came up and it always had to do with having no money, although half the time he didn’t admit it.

Three and a half years later, I see him, we spend four days. First day in which he said that he was going to come out and hang out with me but didn’t turn up. Second day in which we spent it at his uncle’s wedding, so basically we didn’t have much time to ourselves. I had this feeling at the back of my mind that he was showing me off to his family, but I brushed it aside because I thought that was how love was supposed to be. I really did not want to attend the wedding, he had to force me. I did it out of courtesy, you see, I’m so nice. Too nice.  Third day in which I saw him for about half an hour in the morning because he had to go to work, the rest of the day, I went shopping with his sister. We didn’t speak much. Fourth day, again, only for about half an hour.

Yet, we still called this a ‘relationship’. Phone calls, texts, emails..e.t.c. This was the order of the day until around July 2008 when, as if I woke up from a wicked spell, I decided I couldn’t go on. It dawned on me that I had been wasting my time. He got a job over 5000 miles way from me and the constant conversations on the phone about our future plans, saving money to visit him, waiting for each other e.t.c were wearing me out. I hated it. This guy even had the impertinence to propose to me. Talking about marrying me when I finished uni. Hallo!? I’m turning 21 in a few weeks time. Why would I want to get married at 21? Needless to say, I said yes just to please him adn then proceeded to stress about why I had said yes. I hated him for doing this to me. I hated myself for blindly putting myself through it. I detested everything about myself and wanted out. It was disgusting. I wasn’t going to waste any more time, so I decided to end it. This is when I fully realised how insecure and needy he was. I remember around the time I went to see him, he mentioned something about ‘ I can’t live without you’, ‘ I don’t know what I’d do without you’, ‘You’re my everything’, ‘I need you to help me and be there for me, especially with the financial problems I have’

Did I mention that this guy asked me for money, not once but twice. The first time, I really had nothing, but he begged me and I gave in. Second time, I literally had nothing but since I felt guilty and didn’t want to lose him, I gave it to him anyway. OK, maybe it was my fault. Maybe I came across as loaded. Maybe my family was a bit priviledged than his. I appreciate that maybe that was the case, but, a loving and caring man DOES NOT ask money from his woman! That’s just how it works, especially since we were not even married or engaged or anything! For crying out loud, I was 19!

I was so pissed off, I made up my mind that I would not turn 20 while still with him. I just would not. I told him I didn’t want to continue with the relationship in December 2008, he waited  a while before any response, presumably he was living in denial and hoping this would go away ( this wasn’t the first time I’d done this which goes to show you the extent to which I was unsure about this relationship) Around the second week of January, a few days after my birthday, he called me to beg me to stay with him, saying we had gone through a lot. Who fucking cares what we’ve gone through? What exactly did we go through? Distance? Headaches and sleepless night because we missed each other? What was this thing that we went through? At this point I didn’t care, I said I’m putting a fork in it and I’m out.

I thought that was that. I was hugely disappointed and doubly pissed off but not surprised when I got a message from him while on an Erasmus exchange in February this year. He said maybe we should think about it a little bit more because he still loved me and he knew I still loved him. This is where this looser guy was wrong. He thought he owned me. He took me for granted. Assumed that I was his by default. I caved in, silly me. I said, ok maybe we could try. Then he started harassing me on Facebook by thinking that every statement I made there was about him.

On Valentines day, I spent the day with my two handsome Mexican housemates. One of them bought me Hershey’s chocolate and we went window shopping. Chattering and laughing loudly in the streets of one of the cities of said Erasmus country. I got home, opened my Facebook and there was a message from him, with that air of entitlement again ‘Happy Valentine my love’. I wanted to throw up. I didn’t reply. Shut off the computer and spent the night cuddled in one of the Mexican’s arms as we watched TV. Three days later, I made it clear to him. Crystal. It was the end, he should never contact me. I did not want to be his friend. I meant it.

He called me in April, I said I did not want to talk to him. I met King in May. He texted me in June saying he missed me, I told him to get lost or I might consider that as harassment. In July my phone got stolen while I was on holiday somewhere in sunny Africa. I cursed at first but when I got back home and got a number I thanked God because I realised everything happens for a reason. He didn’t have my number anymore. Perfect. He still has my mum’s number though.

Yesterday, I told her to ignore him and never to give him my number. Over my dead body will I ever get back with him.

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2 Responses to “”


  1. […] dad live in each other’s mail boxes, they know each other’s passwords e.t.c. Apparently this shameless guy has been contacting my mum for a while now. It started on Facebook (my mum opened […]


  2. […] man who I got along with. Ever. He was single and it was his last year of uni in UK. I was in  a long distance relationship. I was also naïve.  He started flirting with me. I flirted back  but I was always scared of […]


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