Life lately

I’ve been struggling to blog for quite some time because I feel like I needed something to blog about. A rounded post on a topic. But then I realised that I blog for me. I don’t aim to achieve anything from this blog, it is just a place for me to splurge my thoughts and share snippets of my life with anyone who’s interested. So I can write whatever the hell I want. My posts don’t have to have a theme or a conclusion.

I don’t suppose I helped myself with the Leigh vs something naming convention. There’s been Leigh vs the Property Ladder, Leigh vs Love, Leigh vs Emotional Baggage bouncing around my head, to name but a few. And this very post could be called Leigh vs Writers block I suppose, or just Leigh vs Life.

These days I’m simultaneously really happy and completely shitty. I bought a house, which is fantastic and I’m very lucky to have been able to do so but it’s frazzling my nerves. You just don’t see all the things that are wrong with a house until it’s yours. I love my house, don’t get me wrong. I love its little low maintenance yard, big (chilly) bathroom, built in wardrobes and huge (but never huge enough for all my crap) kitchen. But I hate the leaky back door, the damp patches, the windows that need replacing and the fact that it just doesn’t get warm.

I haven’t had a dreamless night’s sleep in months and it’s really starting to take its toll. I’m exhausted all the time and really struggle to get up in the mornings. Plus the dreams are usually horrid. I have had a couple of dreams that the Manfriend breaks up with me, which would suggest that I’m worried about our relationship but in waking life I’m really not. I’ve never been more secure, we’ve talked about marriage* and children** and when I told him that our upcoming anniversary will be the first 2 year anniversary I’ve had, he told me it will also be my last.

He also gave notice on his flat yesterday and is moving in with me some time next month, which is exciting and terrifying. Mainly exciting though as I miss him when he goes home. Plus he comes with a super kingsize bed and an espresso machine. Win win.

Most of my fears seem to revolve around him getting frustrated with how messy I am and when I’m going to wax my arms without him knowing I do that. As if he can’t tell… *eyeroll at the tiny crazy person who lives in my brain*

So you can probably expect a Leigh vs Cohabiting post at some point. Maybe. I am going to try to blog more often as I think it would be good for my mental health. I’ve always thought better in pen and sometimes I just need to get things out of my brain.

* Yep. (I told him he has to marry me as he “married the last one and I’m loads better.” Fortunately he agreed.)

** Meh, maybe. But Christ, not now. Urgh.

Posted in Being a Grown Up, Life, Relationships | Leave a comment

Leigh vs Depression

I didn’t have a boyfriend until I was nearly 20. I was a chubby, shy teen who saw boys as somehow “other” and therefore scary. Even when I got a bit less shy and more attractive as I grew into my looks (and plucked my ginormous eyebrows) I had absolutely no game. Looking back there were boys who I now realise fancied me but at the time I was convinced they had a thing for my friend. Oblivious. Or even when I had an inkling just not confident enough to actually believe it. The boyfriend I did get at 19 was a bit of a fluke, I grabbed him and snogged him while drunk and it just kind of turned into a (really bad) relationship.

My point is that I spent my formative years yearning for a boyfriend and deeply miserable that boys didn’t like me. All of my sad was put down to that. Having a boyfriend would fix me. And it’s something I unknowingly brought with me into adulthood.

I was depressed for a large portion of my relationship with The Ex but I didn’t face it. My immune system was shot to pieces, the doctor kept asking me if I was stressed and I was saying no then whining to people that that’s their answer to everything. Not actually stopping to think he might be right. Deep down I think I thought, but I’m in a relationship, how can I be depressed?

Then when it ended I had such a huge crash. Because I’d finally admitted to myself that something was wrong. Well that everything was wrong as it felt back then.

Learning that has been a really good thing for me because right now I know that my mental state is not good and I’m not just ignoring it because I’m in a (really happy this time) relationship. I can be sad and stressed out and still be in love with my boyfriend. Admitting that I need some help is not saying that he’s not enough. Because how could you ever expect one person to fix you. It’s your job to make sure you’re happy, not someone else’s.

So I went to see my doctor last week. I ummed and ahhed over it for a while because really I knew what I wanted him to do was to put me back on citalopram and going on antidepressants felt a bit like giving in to it. Then I stopped and I thought, no one would baulk at taking an antacid before going out for a big meal if they’re prone to heartburn or indigestion. And who would turn down a neurofen if they had a migraine? So why shouldn’t I go on antidepressants when I’m going through a stressful time (having to apply for my job and trying to buy a house, by myself) and I know I’m prone to depressive episodes?

I’ve been taking them again for a few days and I already feel a bit better. Not because they’re working yet, that will take a couple of weeks, but because I’ve done something. I’m not playing ostrich again. Knowing myself and having the sense to seek help makes me feel strangely strong, in a situation that many people probably perceive as weakness. I’m also proud of myself because I’ve told people at work. I’m not going to be ashamed. You wouldn’t be ashamed of taking insulin or high blood pressure tablets so I’m not going to be ashamed about taking tablets for my slightly off kilter brain.

Posted in Depression, Life | 2 Comments

Leigh vs Emotional Adolescence

I think it’s fair to say that I’m shit at relationships. Or inexperienced at least. I have spent the majority of my adult life single and The Ex was my only relationship that lasted more than a few months. Looking back on that relationship now that I’ve gained a little more perspective through the passage of time and being with a lovely man I can see now that it wasn’t really like a proper adult relationship should be.

So I feel like I’m in my first one now. Trying to learn how to do that communicating thing I hear talked about so much. And the whole emotional vulnerability shiznit. Struggling with that one rather a lot.

In all the relationships I’ve had in the past I’ve felt like I’ve had to hide my feelings. Terrified that if I revealed that I actually cared, that if I admitted I might want the relationship to last then they’d take it away. Which is silly and as well as probably showing a need for some serious CBT is possibly a large part of why the relationships failed. Who wants to be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t actually show them that they care about them? It’s odd though because I am so liberal with my affection and declarations of love in all other aspects of my life. I love you is used in lieu of goodbye on most of my phone calls and if a loved one does something daft, amusing or kind it usually prompts me to tell them I love them.

Yet I can’t do it with boys I’m boinking.

I’ll want to. God, will I want to. They’ve been bubbling up, just waiting to burst out when manfriend blames autistic badgers for eating my cereal or when he makes me dance around the kitchen with him. But there’s just something that stops me, a fear that makes me not blurt it out. The worry that he’ll say, “ooh that’s a bit serious.” That I’m not allowed to love him.

I have told him I love him three times. All while drunk. And he didn’t say “ooh that’s a bit serious” but he didn’t just parrot it back. The first time he told me that he found it a hard word to say, which was fine because I don’t need him to say it. I know how he feels about me. Being told I’m delightful and he’s glad he found me on the Internet is enough. I just need to be able to tell him that I love him without the fear that it’s going to be a thing every time I say it.

The second and third time I said it, I was so drunk that I couldn’t do my own drunk dialling and was lying on the toilet floor thinking I may die. I decided I wanted him there and got my cousin’s girlfriend to call him for me. 10 minutes later he was holding my hair for me and and stroking my back, while I kept thanking him for coming and chucking in the odd I love you. He said, “I know,” the first time and “I love you too,” the second, possibly worried I was going to just keep it up until he said it.

I’m choosing to believe him – what man who doesn’t love you would drive over to look after you – but I’m still stopping the I love yous that build up behind my lips when I’m sober. I suppose in part because I don’t want him to think I’m saying it because I want to hear it back and feel pressured.

Despite the lack of I love yous I have let myself be more romantic and expressive with him than I have previously so I am slowly getting through my delayed onset emotional puberty. I hid post-its around his flat listing reasons I like him (which he has kept and stuck to the frame of his mirror) and I will use proper terms of endearment (usually in German though, let’s not get silly), which I’ve not really done before.

I’m learning to communicate about the little things too. I’m not saving up my niggles and questions for when I’m drunk so much anymore. One of his friends who he talks to quite a lot refers to me as “Online” and I found out the other day that he calls me it back to her (“If I call you Leigh she gets confused and thinks I mean [friend called Leigh]”), which bothered me a bit. I think it’s sort of rude that she doesn’t use my real name – my friends don’t still call him The Man From the Internet, because he’s a person now and an important one to me. And that deserves the respect of using his name. Or maybe I’m overthinking it. But it upset me, made me feel unimportant.

So I told him. Via text of course, and in relation to something else. But still, it’s progress. And obviously, because he’s not a dick, he said that didn’t realise it bothered me and that he would stop. Simple. I’m beginning to understand why people recommend talking to your partner so much.

Maybe we’ll get a grown up out of me yet.

Posted in Being a Grown Up, Relationships, The Fear | Leave a comment

Leigh vs Happiness

The adage happy people don’t blog certainly seems to ring true for me. Life is far from perfect but I’ve been pretty happy of late so appear to have absolutely nothing to say. I’m still in that sickening first flush of new relationship excitement where if I was to blog, or even tweet more frequently there’s the danger that it would just turn into a catalogue of every perceived funny or sweet thing my pet man said or did. Either that or enthusiastically telling you about the sex. (God, how I’ve missed regular two person sex!)

I’ve started a few posts when the tiny crazy person who lives in my brain was kicking up a fuss but as it’s pretty much always been over nothing I’m usually back to my nauseatingly chirpy self and telling anyone who’ll listen – and often those who won’t – how fabulous my boyfriend looks naked before I’ve written more than a couple of paragraphs. Then I just feel silly trying to explain what I was fretting over. So the drafts get shelved or deleted and I stay silent.

But I shouldn’t stay silent. As I was writing this I remembered a line I’d liked when I listened to the audiobook of The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry:

“It is always worth itemising happiness, there is so much of the other thing in a life, you had better put down the markers for happiness while you can.”

It’s very true. We don’t celebrate our happy moments enough. If I were to read this blog back in years to come I don’t only want to be reminded of the sad times. I want to remember being blissfully, smugly happy.  I want to read about the nice things that a boy who cares about me said or did and the fun things we did together.  The time he offered to carry me back to bed from the bathroom floor I was lying on, so hungover I was convinced I might die and then put a towel under my head when I requested he save himself and go on without me.  Or just the way he looks at me when I’m excited over something silly like Minions or getting to see The Princess Bride in the cinema. I want to remember how it feels to be with someone who calls me lovely face and compliments me frequently.  I don’t want to only remember being a crazy neurotic mess.

So yeah, I’m happy and I should shout it from the rooftops.

Posted in Life, Relationships | 3 Comments

Leigh vs The Talk

I don’t think I’ve ever actually had The Talk with anyone.  You know the one I mean, the chat you’re supposed to have when you’ve been dating for a while, you have no intention of seeing anyone else and you want to check that – to get all American on you – they’re on the same page.

With The Ex I just phoned him when I was drunk and slurred, “Are you my boyfriend?” at him.  And with all previous boyfriends I didn’t even do that, I just ignored the subject altogether.  I only found out that Work Ex had actually considered me his girlfriend after we broke up.

I’d like to do things differently this time and try acting like an adult.  I’m still dating the chap of Leigh vs the first date fame and things seem to be going well so the thought of The Talk has started to play on my mind.  Not that I’m in any great rush to have it.  I don’t have a burning desire to be able to call him my boyfriend, that all feels a bit soon and scary.  But sooner or later we probably do need to have a conversation about Us.  Especially as we met online, therefore raising the whole deleting of profile issue.  I’d quite like to get rid of mine now as I’m not doing anything with it and I was going to delete it anyway before he contacted me but that might look a bit premature to him so I’ve just left it for now.

I’m beginning to think my blog may have magic powers.  I blog about giving up online dating and then a nice man sends me a message.  I start writing about having The Talk with said man during the day and then that night he calls me his girlfriend.  So I guess that negates the need for The Talk.

I almost feel cheated out of it.  My inner drama queen was a bit miffed by the simplicity of it all.  Where was the angst and the struggle to bring it up in a way that doesn’t make a Big Deal out of it?  You’d almost think I’m having an adult relationship or something.  That can’t be right surely?

Posted in Being a Grown Up, Dating, Relationships | 4 Comments

Leigh vs the First Date

So I write about how rubbish I’ve been at online dating and then I get a message from a man I find attractive AND who makes me laugh. And get this, instead of ignoring him for two weeks while I mentally attempt to draft something witty, I just replied. Just like that. Then he sent me another message, and I only went and bloody replied to that one too. Do I get a high-five or a fist bump or something?

Instead of feeling sick with fear or only replying out of obligation I found myself being excited and smiley when I saw an email pop up letting me know I had a message from him. And when he then asked me if I wanted to go for a coffee, I didn’t even have to think about whether to say yes.

Obviously, I wouldn’t be me if I hadn’t had a little nervous wobble. I had to text him to postpone because of an overrunning hair appointment and the daft, scared part of me really wanted to just cancel the whole thing instead.  But fortunately I didn’t as his face is nice, he’s funny, eloquent, has nice muscles and I could spot a sexy bit of chest hair, which I’m rather partial to.

One coffee turned into two, which turned into going for dinner and before I knew it was half nine and he was walking me to my car.  All I could think about was whether he was going to kiss me and not in the oh god I hope he doesn’t try to kiss me way that I’ve become accustomed to, but in a I wonder if he’ll kiss me.  I hope he kisses me.  What if he doesn’t kiss me?  Shall I kiss him? kind of way.

And then he did kiss me.  And my brain shut up.

I don’t want to gush* for fear of tempting fate and it failing before it’s even really begun, but I like him.  He’s fun and I fancy him and I’m looking forward to seeing him again.

*Totally do want to gush.
Posted in Boys, Dating | 5 Comments

Leigh vs Online Dating*

I seem to have fallen into somewhat of a pattern where my romantic life – or lack thereof – is concerned. It goes something like this:

Feel a bit lonely, think it would be nice to have one of those man shaped things in my life.

Join a dating site.


Immediately close browser in fear and only log on again to cancel the account.

Feel a bit lonely.

Join a dating site.


Leave dating site. Again.

Repeat ad nauseum.

Even the good messages turn me into a basket case. No, especially the good ones. I had a really funny, intelligent message from one guy, who I actually found quite attractive and I took so long to reply that by the time I went to send it (drafted offline of course, in case The Men saw I was online) he’d quit the site.

The furthest down the communication line I’ve got is to swap mobile numbers with one man, who turned out to be a bit weird. Which will serve me right for being superficial as I thought he was boring all along but he was quite hot(/adept at picking flattering pictures). Every time he text me, instead of feeling excited I felt almost put out. Mildly cross at being obligated to reply. I remember lying in bed reading at 8 o’clock on a Wednesday and thinking, “do I really want to give this up?” And if you find reading alone in bed more exciting than even communicating with a man, let alone going out with them, he’s definitely not the man for you.

After that realisation I left my account active but I didn’t even log on for window shopping until recently, when a colleague signed up too and we start chatting about meeting boys and finding speed dating to go to.  She made interacting with the opposite sex sound fun and not terrifying so I started to be a little more proactive.  There were two men I was encouraged/gently bullied to contact so I did and a couple more that I built up the courage to send messages to without coaxing.

And not a single one has replied.  Cue major crisis of self confidence.  I’m obviously either boring and/or hideous.  There’s no other explanation for it.  It couldn’t possibly be that I’m just not their type or they’re not really feeling the online dating thing.  No no, I’m a repulsive dullard.  Obviously.

I’m not even sure why it bothered me so much.  If any of them had actually replied I haven’t got time to go on dates because I’m marathon training.  Almost all my weekday evenings are taken up with runs and then the weekend is carefully orchestrated around The Long Run.  Shoehorning a man into it just isn’t going to work.  (That I say stuff like that just goes to show how likely it is that my independent streak is going to lead to me dying alone.)  Yet, bother me I did.  I won’t initiate contact anymore and it’s only really  sontarans or men who look like they’re melting who start conversations with me.  So I think it’s probably time to cancel the account.

Now, where do I get a cat?

*I’m trying out a new naming convention, I’ll probably drop it fairly quickly.
Posted in Boys, Dating, Relationships, The Fear | 4 Comments

Entering the fray

Online dating is something I keep going back to, despite it not really working for me.  I did have a brief relationship with a guy I met online a few years ago but he’s the only person I’ve even met up with from a dating site.  I obviously like writing about myself or I wouldn’t have a blog and I think that, combined with the online shopping feel to it, is where the appeal of online dating lies for me.

Whatever it is, I’m back at it.  I’m actually on a couple because the first one made me cut down my ad to fit and I’d agonised over it so much that I had to find one where I could use the full thing.  I was quite proud of my ad but now I’m worried it just makes me look a bit weird and doesn’t give that rounded a picture.  Sod it, you can read it if you like.

A fun but slightly odd individual is looking for a funny, intelligent person to fill an exciting new role initially as date but the post has the potential to develop into that of boyfriend for the right candidate.  The ideal applicant will understand that the rapidly rising price of Curly Wurlys is a serious issue – 38p at time of writing! (Sidenote: Is the plural Curly Wurlys or Curly Wurlies?)  He will also possess post-apocalypse survival skills such as motor repair and hunting.  Applicants MUST be able to laugh at themselves and should not embarrass easily.  Knowledge of Garfunkel and Oates (yes, that is what I mean), The Princess Bride and the inherent evilness of HTML and CSS would be a bonus.  Dog people preferred but not essential. Responsibilities include:

  • Drinking wine (or other beverage of choice) and talking crap.
  • Attending music and comedy gigs.
  • Offering protection from threats such as zombies, caterpillars (horrible, furry little wiggly things) and clowns.
  • Going on adventures – both the active, outdoorsy kind and the more gentle sightseeing and culture seeking type.
  • Attending horror movie marathons (see above re: protection from zombies etc.)
  • Being silly – you will be expected to join in with conversations about ninja dinosaurs, mermaids and other topics of that ilk.
  • Stopping employer from drinking tequila.

Successful candidate will benefit from a laidback working environment, flexitime is available and there is a generous leave allowance – employer is very independent and doesn’t want you around all the time.  You won’t be dragged to go see chick flicks or on shopping trips but you will be expected to go on the odd fancy dress night out (sorry). Despite being ridiculous a large amount of the time the employer is capable of serious conversations – and will in fact turn even ridiculous topics into serious conversations.  Yes, it does matter which of your colleagues you’d eat first if you had to.

To apply send a CV (not really) and covering letter (well, message).  Please be aware that applications may be rejected if the wrong your/you’re or there/their/there is used.  Messages written in text speak won’t even be read.

So far I haven’t really taken it very seriously and I’ve been too much of a pansy to initiate contact with any of the men on there that I actually like and the ones who’ve contacted me have either been troglodytes, dumb, creepy or all three.  But I’m going to start being more proactive.  I’ve been single for two years next month.  TWO YEARS.  How the hell did that happen?  Two years without a single date.  People remarry quicker for crying out loud.

There doesn’t appear to be any actual point to this post.  It could really have just been summed up with, “I’m online dating now,” but there you go.

I’m online dating now.

Posted in Dating, Moving on | Leave a comment

The Accidental Boyfriend

It’s been a very long time since I’ve been sat across a table from a man who’s telling me I’m wonderful.  I suppose I can blame being out of practice for my pfft!-eye roll combo response.  Accepting compliments has never been a strong suit of mine but it’s made even more awkward when you’re supposed to be enjoying a post work drink with a friend, not a date.

I’ve known Socially Awkward Boy has liked me as something more than a friend and colleague since the work Christmas do, when he told me so but it still doesn’t make it any easier to know how to react when he compliments me.

Do I just say thank you?  Do I try to nip the whole thing in the bud at that point and tell him – again – that I’m not interested.  The problem with that tack is that I’m not 100% certain that I actually am not interested.

I like him a lot, we get on really well.  He is easily one of my favourite people.  If we bump into each other in the kitchen at work I usually end up sidling back in half an hour later, hoping no one noticed how long it took me to make a cup of tea.  We hang out after work on a Friday night quite often.  Mostly as part of a group but this week it was just me and him and one drink turned into a few, which turned into dinner, which led to a missed train and staying out drinking until half 3.

He’s lovely, he makes me laugh, he’s intelligent, he cares about grammar but I just don’t want to have sex with him.  If we didn’t work together and there wasn’t the potential for a whole bunch of awkward I would possibly just chance a drunken snog and see if there were tingles.  If there was no spark I’d still have to see him almost every day and I don’t think he’d be happy to just forget anything had happened.  He’s the sort of boy who if I kissed him, he’d think we were Going Steady.

I’m not entirely certain he doesn’t think we’re dating as it is.  We talk a lot, we have text conversations most days and now there are the unaccompanied trips to the pub, there’s been one or two lunches and we have plans to go see The Cabin in the Woods together.  I don’t know what I’m doing.  I’m being very foolish because I know this is giving him the idea that something relationship shaped might develop.

Every time we discover something new in common or a similar viewpoint on a particular topic I can see him jotting it down on his mental list of reasons we’re “made for each other” – this is an actual thing he has said, I’m not just being flippant.  Months ago he said that we were made for each other because we both like Day of the Dead more than Dawn of the Dead.  Zombie film preference is THAT important.

I’m really worried I’m going to one day find myself in a relationship I had no intention of being in just because I’m too much of a wuss to have a conversation about what the hell is going on and too selfish to stop hanging out with him so much.  I seem to be using him as my proxy boyfriend.  It’s nice having someone who wants to spend time with you, someone who can be relied on to always say yes to invites to the pub and reply to inane texts.

And he’s such a lovely proxy boyfriend that I do wonder if it would be such a terrible thing if he was to become a real boyfriend.  He’s intellectually stimulating and he makes me laugh, surely that should be more important than the fact he’s skinnier than me and I couldn’t imagine him pinning me to a bed in a million years.  Aren’t shared values more meaningful than ticking every box on the physical wishlist?  Then why can’t I get over the fact that I like stubbly boys with muscles and hair I can thread my fingers through and he has none of these things?

Posted in Boys, Dating, Friends | 4 Comments

Mr What If becomes Mr So What

Once upon a time I fell for a boy who had a girlfriend, we’ll call him Mr What If. We used to flirt and there was a definite connection between us but nothing actually happened (well apart from one or two misguided kisses when we were drunk – I know, but I was young) until he got dumped by his girlfriend before she was moved away to go back to Uni. Then the flirting turned into stolen kisses in the stairwell of our shared office building and phone calls that only ended when the lightening sky gave away just how long we’d been talking for. I was completely besotted with him but despite his claims that he felt the same we never actually went on a date. With him actually using how much he said he liked me as his excuse – he didn’t want me to be rebound fling apparently and was scared that he’d mess things up because he wasn’t ready for another relationship.

Then I met The Ex, sorry, Mario. Well not met, I’d worked with him for a couple of years by that point but we’d never spent any time together socially and he’d always been fairly mute around me. But at a work away day that featured cocktails in the evening I saw for the first time how funny he was and then I started noticing how nice his smile was and how well his arms filled out his shirt. By the end of the night I had a schoolgirl crush.

When it was clear that he liked me back I turned a little harpyish with Mr What If. A couple of days before my first date with Mario I pretty much issued Mr What If an ultimatum: either we went on a date or I was moving on. The date didn’t materialise so I moved on and gradually fell head over heels in love with Mario. At which point Mr What If decided to pop out of the woodwork to tell me that I was with the wrong man and I should leave Mario to be with him instead because he was in love with me and there was even some schmaltz about soulmates.

Obviously, I didn’t leave Mario for him but I did often wonder how things would have turned out if I had. I thought he was destined to be the guy I’d always have unanswered questions about, hence the name. We did stay friends though (up until he got a girlfriend) and we’d have lunch every now and then or hang out if we bumped into each other in the pub by the office. Over one such lunch we discovered similar taste in fiction and I lent him some books. And FINALLY, I get to the main point of this post!

That was about two years ago and I still haven’t had the books back. I want to lend one of them to my mum and I went to buy it again but it’s out of print so when I saw him in the pub a couple of weeks ago I asked if I could have them back. He moved house a few months ago so he requested I text him the titles and he’d have a look for them as they might be in his Dad’s house. I dutifully text him the names of the books and who they were by. Silence. Oh well, best give up on getting them back then. Always a risk you take when you lend someone a book.

But last Wednesday I suggested to a group of colleagues that we go for a mid week drink as it was such perfect beer garden weather and he happened to be there too, clearly having the same thought. I was minding my own business when he spotted me and called across the pub to me, “Leigh! Books! Yeah… They’ve been destroyed I’m afraid. I’ll replace them though.”

Sorry, what now?


Lost, I could understand. Even given to a charity shop, but “destroyed”? Seriously, what the fuck? Did he burn them? Did his girlfriend eat them?

Reading is my first love and I adore books. I’m really anal about them and I read carefully, treating my books almost with reverence. He knows that and he even went on to have a conversation with one my companions, to whom I’ve also lent a book, mocking me for it. He knows that watching someone break the spine of a book makes me shudder and he stood there and told me that some of my books, some of my favourite books, had been destroyed, with no explanation and barely a trace of apology.

I regret that it took me a little while to get angry. It was some time later, while I was walking to my car that I realised how furious I was. I don’t care that he offered to replace them – even if I believed that he actually would, I am so annoyed by the lack of respect a boy who once claimed to love me, showed my property that he could give me three copies of each book and I’d still be fuming.

I ranted about it to everyone I know who likes books and was just starting to forget about it when I get a text from him saying, “Found your books! I’ll bring them in tomorrow.”

Riiight… So, my books hadn’t been destroyed at all but he told me they had been anyway. Despite knowing what I’m like and that it would upset me. Perhaps precisely because he knew it would upset me. I can think of absolutely no reason to tell someone something of theirs had been destroyed when it hadn’t other than to upset them. Surely most people would say they’d lost them even if they actually had destroyed them.

And with that, every drop of feeling I had left for him evaporated. No more moments will be spent wondering how my life would have turned out if I had chosen him instead, if I’d waited for him or if I’d broken up with Mario when he asked me to. Goodbye what if, hello lucky escape.

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