Let's start at the beginning (Please note that this is LONG AS FUCK, but lightly dusted with humour amongst the OMG WHY DON'T HE LOVE ME WAAAHHHHWAHWAH)
I never considered myself pretty at school. At the playground, my best friend quizzed the 2 males in my year (an insanely small school, not a bizarre womens colony) who they'd rather 'go out with'. She had fantastic brown hair, golden skin, and I was a pale mess on the side in thick round glasses. I don't blame them, especially when the pressure of a pretty girl asking if you found her attractive is that traumatising.
So I had it in my head that I wasn't anything extraordinary, and I'd read Roald Dahl so I knew that a smile was all I needed to not be 'ugly'. On came middle school, and boys from different villages! Does it sound like I live in Middle Earth? Not far off actually.
A boy sent me a note asking if I'd be his girlfriend. He was a lacky for the popular kids, and my natural distrust of anyone thinking they could be better than their peers kicked in. I agreed, we sat on the school bus home, but the next day when he boarded the bus I hid on the floor and shouted "I don't want to be your girlfriend!"
From that shaky start came crushes at high school but I still had no confidence. Acne had set in and even if a genuine offer came I would have laughed it off. I went to prom stag, it was all very predictable, and to be honest it made no difference to my life not having a relationship until I was 18.
During college, I was infatuated with a boy. We spoke on MSN, he went to a different school but there were mutual friends. I thought we had enough in common for it to be 'the real thing', but all that really entailed was a SUPER compatibility on last.fm. I trailed after him for months, which with hindsight is a bit of a trademark for me. Went to shitty gigs in community halls, travelled by myself to gigs in London, and just did a very convincing impression of a stalker. It came to a tragic end when we finally slept together, my first time, after a night out in Brighton, and I threw up during foreplay (not in the room)
Just take a moment to soak up all the classy readers.
The morning after, I was picked up by my dad, went to my job in a cafe, and got home to a message from my best friend saying he'd been seeing someone else. Why this came as such a shock I'm still unsure, but I'd created a scenario where us doing the no pants dance meant we would be 'official'. Naive, but I didn't know any better.
After that came an actual boyfriend. He was just as awkward as I am, and it actually worked. We were sickening, with matching phone backgrounds of us cuddling. It was a great summer together, going to parties and hanging out with friends. I moved to Portsmouth and he would drive from Redhill after work to see me. I didn't know anyone when I moved so those visits were the highlight of my weeks, but I should have been out trying to meet new friends. I didn't have anything to show him, we could have explored this new city together but instead, I just locked myself in my room. If I had any regrets about that relationship, it would be that I could have been so much more fun, but I didn't know what I was doing, and certainly I didn't know how to include someone else into whatever it was.
It ended 3 days before Christmas. I joined his family on a trip to London and he tried his best to ignore me. I invited him to a gig at The Prince Albert where I bounced about and headbanged to Random Hand and he lurked by the merch table, motionless.
Apparently I was 'too emotionally stunted', and I can understand that assessment. I got hit by a car and didn't say anything til he came to see me. I was so afraid of being clingy that I didn't depend on him for anything.
I was single for about 2 months, then I met the next boy. I had gatecrashed a social for a course similar to mine. He had seen the Brand New tattoo on my wrist and that was enough. I still didn't know what I was doing, so when he pursued me for a short time, I gave in. It lasted 18 months, and I was happy for that entire time. Again, I don't regret the time we spent together, but perhaps we were both scarred from life before, and we blamed each other for it ending.
In second year, we lived within about 20 houses of each other. I didn't know how to be friends with my flatmate so I just went to his house, even if he wasn't there. His best friends became my close friends, we spent far too much time getting high, and I didn't notice that I was becoming a unofficial, unwanted housemate. We split up, but within a week he said he missed me. I got drunk on snake bite, and we ended up back together. I should have known that it wasn't a good idea, but I didn't know how to be alone.
After a month, I was sick of it. I knew that it would never go further than this, despite us both saying that we were perfect for each other. We knew it was dead in the water but no one wanted to say it. In the end, I went on a gin fuelled adventure on a boat til 5am, fell asleep at home, and when he rang my doorbell 3 hours later, my contact lenses were sticking to my eyeballs and I was still a bit drunk. He was angry, seething, I could see it, but all I could do was blurt "I don't want to be with you."
It was not an amicable break up. He called me some very unpleasant things, and still does. I wrote a very passive agressive things on tumblr. We can't really go back from that.
From there, there were more crushes, but nothing serious. I was finally at home in the city I lived in. I had 2 great jobs, with great people, I bumped into the uni ex a couple times and he said some snide things but it was to be expected. I spent a couple summers being single and loved it.
There was a boy, only a year my senior but he certainly didn't look it. I fell for him instantly. I never made a move because I thought I never had a chance. I don't really believe in people being out of someones league, but I do believe that someone can not even register in a romantic or sexual column in the great spreadsheet of life.
So there I was, totally enamoured, but I didn't bother chasing him. Turns out he was just as awkward as me. Funny that. The only problem is, he can only overcome that with the help of his friend Jack Daniels. I never want to stop someone drinking, I never want to change anyone for my benefit, but it became something that I questioned. Is he only interested because he is drunk? That's not a question you want to ask yourself. I couldn't communicate with him because I convinced myself I was just bothering him.
We hooked up a couple times, and it was great. Until he told my ex boss, who was like my Southsea Dad. I forgave him, despite him not knowing I was angry in the first place. Then I moved away, and it doesn't seem worth pursuing anymore. I was warned that it wouldn't work out by a few people that knew us both, but wishful thinking got the better of me. Never say never, let's put a star shaped drawing pin and that one and label it "Maybe if we both grow up."
And now, the final destination in the whistle stop tour of boys that made me go a bit mental in the brain. The one I could never quite work out. As I became more and more comfortable in Southsea, I worked in a local pub, I was getting involved in the #southsea scene. Stumbling across a 'night' at The Edge of the Wedge that was so up my musical street I got a bit fanatical. I got a Friday night off work and went with a friend. It was completely dead. The only people there were the bar staff, the DJ and a group of really drunk middle-aged people. At least the music was good. I went a couple more times after work. I smiled at the DJ because we'd spoken on Twitter but I didn't want to go and introduce myself with a twitter handle. Accidental flirting gets you everywhere, bare that in mind. We had mutual friends so the more I went, the more likely I was to end up at the barrier, saying hello and trying to not dance like a prick. I ended up staying after the kick out one evening, and then we ended up going back to mine. I didn't want to look like a groupie, but I think I became one. It was meant to be secretive but I didn't know that was the case. We spent hours texting, becoming really good friends. It got a bit messy, a bit teenage drama. I can't pinpoint when it all went south, but when it went it completely nosedive crashed into a nuclear weapons factory, with an ACME TNT storage unit next door. I didn't want to be an emotional mess, so instead of getting angry, I just let it drift past me. I complained to friends, but I never explained to him. At that point, I hadn't had anything too complicated in my previous breakups. It was always for a reason, even though I didn't realise at the time. This didn't have the label of a relationship, it certainly wasn't a relationship, but the friendship was mixed in with a bit of chemistry and I didn't know how to deal with it.
He made me go a bit stupid girl, like some of the other significant boys before. We had some deep and meaningful chats, and I was assured I was excellent and cool, and I believed him. Until he left, and I began to question everything he said. I don't know. Some things are just too complicated to work, and when you mix two people with mixed up hearts, the chance of it working out is very slim.
The theme with all of these significant boy shaped disasters is that I always tried to be what they wanted. Despite them falling for who I am, I always tried to better that. Which is stupid, don't do it. It's also exhausting, and devastating when, after all that effort you're still left alone.
It's always better to be alone and happy with who you are, and I genuinely think I am happy with who I have become. I am still outrageously bad at talking about my feelings, but I don't think that will ever change. I don't think I have time to try and include someone else into my odd little routine. Maybe I just don't want to because I don't want the messy shitstorm when it all goes wrong. Perhaps I am bored of being by myself, but I don't want someone to call me their girlfriend. Growing up happens too fast, I don't know what I want and I don't want to be defined. I just want to go on an adventure, and have someone to say "Hey check out this awesome shit I did today!" to occasionally, and then they can reply with "Hey that is pretty awesome, look at this mad headfuckery I did!"
And then we would get a dog and listen to music until our ears bleed.
TL;DR I don't know what the fuck is going on, but at least I've had sex so I must have accidentally trapped the above men in my mad bitch web long enough for that to happen, HIGH FIVE.
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