27/03/2010

Today I went for a walk. I must admit I do love the english countryside. It’s beautiful and when the country air just hits you  feel refreshed. My initial plan was to go to a very famous flower garden that I’ve been to once before…about two years ago but I got lost on the way there, so I decided to take a random wander. As much as I enjoyed this little walk, I was left very nostalgic. Two years ago I was living in a house of three men. One of them grew very close to me. I had just started uni, my depression was spiralling out of control, I was having difficulties keeping up with my course e.t.c and there he was. We use to sit and talk about everything: politics, relationships, cooking, world cultures. Just about everything. Every night we sat in the living room talking and laughing, sometimes watching the occasional movie on his laptop. Our house did not have any TV and the living room window directly faced a viaduct. He said he liked it that way. He said it made us more social. We could sit and talk to each other. I agreed despite my incurable addiction to the box. I loved everything about him. His hair (which he was growing out), his accent (He was from Poland), his hands, his beard (when he shaved I used to grab him from behind by the neck and pretend to be playing around, when all I wanted to do was feel the roughness of his beard on my hand). I can honestly say that this was (still is) the only man I had ever been close to in my life. The only 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 things getting out of hand. I did not want to be unfaithful even though doubts about the relationship I was in had begun kicking in long before things got intense with this guy (I’ll call him P). P would come  home from uni everyday and either call out my name to see if I’m home and find out how I was doing, this would then be followed by him making me a cup of  tea and us sitting down for a chat, or upon seeing me in the living room  he would call out jokingly “Honey, I’m home.” We would laugh together. I used to sit across him sometimes in the house and he would look at me and I would feel as if  I was naked before him. Sometimes we would talk and then he would stop and look at me with those eyes. It got to a point where it was so intense and the only thing I could do was rush home to him. He was all I kept thinking about. I wanted him to make love to me. I looked at his hands and imagined how they’d feel on my body. I started deliberately doing things  so that I could touch him. I commented about his hair and  touched it. He did this too.

I remember one day we were at home with the other guys talking and laughing. It was really late. I said I was sleepy but didn’t want to go to bed. He joked and said that I must go to bed, because I was a child (he was six years older than me). I laughed and messed about and before I knew it he grabbed me by my waist and carried me upside down on his shoulders taking me to bed. I started screaming and laughing all the way. I’m not sure whether it was the intense feeling of pleasure I was getting from his hands on my waist and partly on my back or  the feeling of the house spinning as we got upstairs. At the door to my room I wanted and hoped he would come in. He put me down and as he did this, our bodies came together like we were hugging. I was going crazy inside. He patted me telling me to go and sleep and kissed me on my leg (random I know, he was very playful) I went to bed very happy. We went for walks together. We were together all the time. He told me about his work (he was  a design student) he told me about how since coming to UK he had confidence issues but he was getting better. We really spent a lot of time together. The day that he knew I had a boyfriend, he went a bit silent on me. I understood. Things again picked up but after many months the sexual tension took a toll on us. He started going cold on me. I did too, I guess as a form of payback. We had a last train journey together during the end of the winter term. I didn’t see him for a month, when we got back he kissed me on my cheek routine-like, a day later he told me he met someone. He told me as a matter of fact, like you would tell a friend in passing. He was on his phone texting when told me. He was so calm when he did it.

“We were supposed to have started something,” he said and smiled smugly.

“I’m just sending her a text. Maybe I’ll go to see her tonight,”

My heart sank. I sat there looking at him and all I could think of was how handsome he was. It should have been me. I should have been that girl he was texting. I should have been the one he was about to start something with. I just nodded, wished him luck and left him there. Days later he brought her home, they had dinner and went out. He brought her home some more. At this point he was ignoring me point-blank. Sometime he didn’t even say hi to me. I felt as if he was doing this just to spite me. He seemed to be overdoing things when she was around. The way they laughed. They way he talked (loudly) as if to  let me know what exactly was going on. I was so hurt. Really hurt. I can’t even begin to explain. Add this to the fact that at that time I badly wanted out of the relationship I was in.

The first time he brought her home and took her to his room (which was adjacent to mine) to have sex I cried. I cried so much I was taken by surprise. They were laughing and kissing loudly. I wanted to be that girl. Over time I came to learn that he had another girl in Poland. I didn’t know how this was working but he talked about it to the other guys in the house and somehow it felt as if he was in some sort of understanding with this girl he brought around. I don’t know whether the girl in Poland also had an understanding with him. It was all so confusing. I did sometimes have a slight feeling of relief whenever I thought about this. As if this girl had nothing on me, afterall she wasn’t the only one having him. My feelings for him never changed but we had stopped talking now. One day while everyone was in the house, he randomly came to the house and asked everyone to go for a walk with him and this girl, and another friend of his from Poland. I reluctantly said yes. We walked for a long time, got lost a long the way until we  finally got to this garden.

I retraced this path today. I walked along the quiet roads. Looked at all the places, flowers. Nothing has changed. They are just as they were when we were there.  I regret not taking the chance with P. I never stop thinking of what might have been. On the other hand I keep telling myself, maybe I would have ben hurt. On the walk we had I remember even though we hadn’t talked for sometime, he took a picture of me and showed it to everyone around. He said I looked nice. The girl looked at it and said yeah. I guess she just wanted to be polite. On the way back as I walked slowly behind, he urged me playfully to move faster. I don’t know maybe he missed me. Maybe he was punishing me for not giving him a chance. We went to a pub and I sat there with the others as he cuddled with the girl and they talked about how they didn’t sleep the previous night because they were busy with each other. I wanted to scream. We got back home and it was back to not talking to each other. I remember the last time I saw him. It was end of term. I was leaving to go see my parents, he was leaving for his graduation. A friend of his from Poland had come for the graduation and there was a lot of activity going on. He was smart in his black trousers and cream shirt adjusting his tie. He just came downstairs, wished me well in my life and went back upstairs to continue getting ready. Just like that, he was out of my life.

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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.