It’s not you, it’s me…

The clocks have changed, the sun is on it’s long journey away from us hibernating for winter or flying south or whatever and it’s dark and it’s miserable. This time of year is full of change – the light, the temperature, the leaves… LONELINESS AND MISERY is abundent. So here’s a thing about being dumped. And dumping people. x

CRUMPET:

The first boy who ever properly called me his girlfriend said he loved me and missed me over the phone after knowing me for 3 days. We were 15 and it all seemed highly amusing and ridiculous to me. I’ve always seemed to find it amusing and ridiculous when people like me *that* much and still struggle with it despite therapy and EVERYTHING. Aside from the fact that this sweet boy lived in Glasgow, he barely knew me and we’d only really had one snog anyway. After a couple of visits to see each other I started hanging around with a local boy who I stupidly decided I liked better, so I promptly told sweet Scottish boyfriend this. My first proper boyfriend was then the first person I dumped. It kicked off 13 years of us being ridiculous but close to each other, and many years of sad endings and Being-Dumped-Karma for me.

I’ve only dumped a couple of people EVER really. The boy I’d ended up dumping Scottishboyfriend for was consequently dumped whilst I cooked us fish fingers and chips after school one night – we’d been together a few months I think but I just decided I didn’t really want a boyfriend anymore and we ate our fish fingers and chips and stayed mates for a few more years.

My only recent dumping (my first since the above which was over 10years ago so I was massively out of practice) – was more than a little poorly-executed. When there’s no fish fingers and chips to cook or teenage hormones to hide behind I’m clearly at a total loss for knowing how to pull off a clean break. Sadly this was to the sweetest guy ever, but necessary none the less. After plodding along through enough not-quite-right scenarios, or being dumped myself, the time it now takes for me to go from realising things aren’t right to needing to make a swift exit is as short as my attention span when I can smell cake nearby.

I’ve had 2 drastic break-ups in my life, and a sprinkling of little ones that would be insignificant and painless if I wasn’t A: mental and B: always convinced that magical things are about to happen with every boy I ever meet anywhere EVER. The problem with me is that DESPITE therapy, and being calmer than ever these days, I live in the neverending foolish hope that things will always work out for The Best in a brilliant way whatever the situation. It’s my best and worst quality. Stupid neverending foolish optismism.

So my big problem is that if something is going well with a boy – by well I mean he’s said he likes me. Or we’ve kissed. Or something. Then in my head we’ve already made it. Loves young dream. Bliss. (I’m being brutally honest here because lets face it – if anyone reading this ends up ever being someone who one day ends up liking me then it helps that you already know I’m insane.) – it’s not that I’m THAT mental – it’s just because I have a massively overactive imagination.

Consequently, I’m forever ending up heartbroken sobbing on the kitchen floor because “I really thought we had something” etc when in reality we’ve been on one acceptable-to-average date, or given a cute guy my number only to NEVER hear from him… that sort of thing.

ANYWAY. Drastic Dumping No.1
Leeds – uni boyfriend – we’d been together about 4 years. Had a mortgage. Had been on holidays together. A whole life together. Things had gone a bit downhill in a strained sort of way that it does when you buy a house with someone you know you probably shouldn’t have really stayed with for such a long time anyway. So shortly after our 4yr anniversary I introduced him to a girl I was friends with from work and he decided he liked her better. I was devestated and felt like my entire life had been ruined because we’d made a ‘life’ together… in hindsight it was the best thing that could have happened because in those days I was happy to settle and thought I had all the things I wanted. But I was heartbroken, wailing to my mum to get me back to London and consequently went off the rails a bit in a drunken boy-fest way that you only can when you feel like you’ve missed out on THAT side of uni life because you’ve had a boyfriend for 4 years. I hated the guy passionately until he found himself at a loose end after a meeting last summer. I’d spent some time at a therapy group by this point and had been learning about making amends and things, so took the opportunity to meet him and ask him some things, get some answers and put some things to rest. Glad I did that. Good move. Cleansed.

Drastic Dumping No.2
I’ve gone over various bits of The Australian situation before but basically – 3.5yr relationship resulted in me leaving Melbourne for London after living there for 18months. I truly believed that despite our very different backgrounds and so on that we were soul mates and thought we genuinely would be together for EVER ever. No point dwelling on this bit too much because A: it doesn’t matter and B: I’m over it enough to not need to vent about it or bore you on how much I loved him blablabla. Anyway… long story short, I was homesick and moved home. His visa application was being processed so he could come here shortly after me. He was very upset that I’d left, but it was me who fell apart at the airport saying I knew I’d never see him again. Still, we had plans and he was heading over. When he cancelled his visa application because he was convinced he would be rejected, I instantly booked a flight back to Oz, because I had a visa, so it would be fine. The fact that I had been miserable in Melbourne and missed London desperatly didnt matter because of Stupid Love. We argued and cried every single day until the day before I left, when he phoned me during the big leaving dinner my mum had put on for me and 20 friends, and told me not to come and to cancel my flight and he was sorry.

So there you go. I get dumped a lot. And when I have to do the dumping I’m rubbish at it, but know when it needs to be done. Nasty business innit, heartbreak. Whilst I go drown my sorrows in a big bowl of CHOCOLATE now, you can read about how good Panda is at being the one doing the dumping…

PANDA:

Having your heart broken sucks big time, dont think cos I’m writing from this point of view that i haven’t had mine trashed. Many a time i’ve turned up at my mothers like some sort of wailing banshee and curled up in the foetal position for two days straight. But its also pretty crappy being the dumper, like taking a mallet to a little puppys head, it’ll only hurt a bit tiny doggy, brace yourself. There’s no other way to put this, but here’s my most memorable DUMPS (Not poo, NOT POOO!!!!!!!)…

The Psycho.

I was 17, met a boy fell for boy, moved to another part of the country to be with boy. Didn’t like the other part of the country, moved back to me Ma’s, Boy moves back to. Realise i dont really like the boy anymore so finish with boy. Boy crys, i cry, i feel the terrible guilt of stomping on this boys heart. Boy comes over to try and get back together, i say no, boy gets stroppy goes home. Boy calls up “Go check your photos in your drawer” Boy has kindly written SLAG over every single photo of me and him. See boy down the pub, boy goes mad when seeing me talk to another boy. So comes over and whispers in my ear “You’re gonna end up a one legged slag” (This hasn’t happened yet, but i reckon there’s still time) Boy continues for the next few months to harrass me whenever he sees me out, Punches some bloke he sees me talking to, attempts to push me over but gets dragged out of a club by the bouncers. Final straw came one day when i came down for breakfast and my Dad could barely look at me. Dad then explains how boy called up at 4am and proceeded to tell my Dad how his youngest daughter is a total SLAG who’s out everynight banging men and taking drugs. ( I wasn’t (well not really) ) Then his very religious Mother came into my work ready to tare strips off me for being such a heartbreaking SLAG, once i explained how her son was an alcholic mentalist. She backed down said she’s have words with him and i never heard from him again.

The Test that Goes wrong

When i was a youngen and a bit silly and that, before i knew to walk away at the first sign of Fucktardy behaviour. I did the test, where your in a relationship thats so crap and you dont really feel they like you. So instead of thinking I’m worth way more than this nobend and finish with them cos you can do better, you do ‘The Test’  you finish with them in the hope that they’ll realise they cant possibly live without you and come scurrying back. At first they seem generally devastated by the split, tell you they will NEVER be with anyone else, they’ll never love anyone like they do you. Then within the month they’re shacked up with someone else.

The Creepy one

This wasn’t anything that serious, a few months maybe. Then his general tightness, lack of fun and weird dribbly mouth made me decide to bale. He took it well, i relaxed, that was easy. Then the lurking began, I’d be out, he’d be lurking, do the dance/walk over to me. Everywhere I’d go there he’d be lurking innocently, lurking and a looking. Mr Creepys final act of creepyness was to approach me months after the split, and run his porky little hand over my belly and mutter the words “You always liked that didn’t you?” I did a bit of sick in my mouth then vowed to NEVER go somewhere where he would be again.

Seeeeeeeeee!!!!! Being the dumper has its perils too, watching the love of your life disappear into the sunset with another woman (who coincidently looks JUST LIKE YOU) Having a lurker violate your personal space and a little Psycho write SLAG over a perfectly delightful picture of you. Its Tough smashing the puppys face in.

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2 Responses to It’s not you, it’s me…

  1. JP_UK says:

    🙂

    I did way too many bad things in my teens to write them down. I was a ‘nice boy’ until I hit 19 then Jebus, non-stop. I was a right arsehole…no doubt.

    1 year, just as I finished school. She was only 15, me 17. We spent like everyday together, the whole of the summer…until I went off to work in a ski resort running a bar. She wrote every week. I didn’t. Not at all. I had loved her so much that I’d spend many dark days over the next 10 years wondering how I could have behaved like I did. She came out for a week’s holidy. We had a great time, though it was weird to have her in my ‘new domain’. Afterall, this was the first time I’d been living somewhere for that amount of time without anyone knowing who I was, where I came from etc – I’d felt free. Anyway, off she went and started writing again. I carried on not writing. I didn’t tell her when I was coming back to the UK. I just appeared one day as he was walking through town with her friends at lunchtime. She was shocked and very happy…..til I told her that we needed to talk. Nice. Did I mention that I’d go on to do ‘bad things’ with three of her best friends over the next 5 months? No? Quite. Not a nice thing to do. I’ve apologised to her in my head more times than I can recall.

    3.5 years at uni – I did the dumping. She was on holiday…in Kuala Lumpur. I did it over the phone…then packed up all her stuff and shared out our belongings into piles. She was FACKING MENTAL but when I read back what I did, it doesn’t feel great. Sorry BB. She then slept with a couple of ‘friends’ of mine (not at the same time) to just hammer home the fact she wasn’t entirely happy with my behaviour. Not before we had a couple of times after her return I hasten to add. I was keen to move on – it had been a pretty trying time – a lot of emotional blackmail and stuff. I wanted more from life.
    Anyway, karma was busy coming my way, big time.

    Just at the end (and yes there was some crossover) of all that, I met someone who from here on in shall be referred to as “The Evil One”. To me she was a breath of fresh air. Friendly, outgoing, sociable, didn’t mind me drinking too much on a week day or enjoying the occasional ilicit ‘cigarette’. Awesome! Yeah, that is until I met her pyscho ex (or at least that’s what I thought he was!)…on my door step, screaming, “where the fuck is she?! She’s fucking in there isn’t she!?!?”(Repeat). I managed to sidestep the issue that night, but not for long. He’d stand like a sentry at the end of my drive..for hours at a time! He then got people to follow me!?!? Anyway, most normal people would have said, “Evil One, thanks but no thanks. I’ve just come out of a pretty mental relationship and the last thing I need is a relationship like THIS”. I wasn’t normal, so we got engaged! Hurrah! Queue up 4 years of misery and pain that utterly destroyed me as a person. I had no idea who I was, what I liked (food, drink, music, conversation. Nothing. Anyway. That was kinda like a mutal dumping after I’d heard that she’d fucked just about everything other than our dog, I’d found an empty treatment bottle for Chlamidya in our bin and God knows however much other crazy shit had gone on. I was glad to be out of that one but I actually had nothing left.

    7 years later, after loadsa drugs, booze, depression and not too many relationships. I met my wife. We were bound together by what we DIDN’T want in a relationship. We realised we were a pretty perfect match so….she dumped me.
    Then got back together.
    Then she dumped me.
    Then we got back together
    I dumped her.
    Then we got back together.
    I dumped her.
    Then we got back together.

    We just got freaked out by it being so good and what we might have to compromise in the future to be together. Anyway, nearly 7 years down the line it’s all good. We’re happy and no babies on the way – just how we like it 🙂

    So after all that, what have we learned?
    1. 99% boys are utter bastards until the age of about 22 (I don’t have stats for levels of bastardness in the general male population post 22 years of age)
    2. Some of the nice / sweet guys you meet today will have done unmentional emotional damage to girlfriends in the past, but this shouldn’t disuade you (unless recent history dictates otherwise)
    3. The pain of doing the dumping or being dumped can be equally bad but clearly triggers a melancholy that is not always unpleasant (betrayal however leaves an entirely DIFFERENT taste)
    4. Things can work out and not all boys are ‘born bad’. If you’re lucky and find one that doesn’t want certain things as much as you then happiness can prevail.
    4. I do go on a bit and quite often off topic (but I wrote all this so I thought I’d post it anyway – even though this feels like a ‘blog crash’. Besides, I’ve not had more than 140 characters with Crumpet for bloomin ages!)

  2. pandacrumpet says:

    LOVED this JP. Thank you so much. Explains a few of the little bits of things I knew already boutya but so glad you shared this xxx

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