And so let the crazy mentalist girly rant begin …
December 2010. Another year is drawing to a close. In just three week’s time it will be 2011, and 2011 marks my ten year anniversary in the dating world.
I really wish I’d listened to my mother. I was 15 years old when she first tried to convince me to dump my high-school boyfriend because ‘you have the rest of you’re life to date boys and you’re only young once’ Did I listen? Of course I didn’t. I was a 15 year old girl, failing miserably at school, and I had found the “love of my life,” of course I knew best.
Wrong, so very wrong! Now, years later, in my mid-twenties, I’m exhausted. I’ve finally learnt that oh-so important lesson: Mum knows best.
Because after ten years of dating (and probably wasting my time) I’m still just as confused about boys as I was when I was first dumped by that “love of my life” at 16 years old.Â Iâ€™ve actually been dumped twice this year! Twice in one year – Yay, go me! Seriously whatâ€™s wrong with these men? Or more importantly, whatâ€™s wrong with me?
The first dumpage of 2010 came from my University boyfriend; let’s call him Funny Guy, because his amazing sense of humour is how I came to love him in the first place. Funny Guy and I were together for 18 months during our time at University, and when we broke up in our third year, we managed to remain good friends. For nearly two years we remained ‘just friends’ until one summer’s night in 2009, over several beers and far too many shots of Sambuca, we thought ‘˜What the hell! Let’s give it another go.’ And so we did.
It was a lot of fun, I can’t deny that, and we certainly loved each other, but six months in I realised no matter how well two people get on, you cannot force a relationship to work. So for a total of 10 months, we were on, off, up, down, forwards, backwards; we went round and round in circles, and then round one more time. By the April I was exhausted but still trying really hard to make it work, I was determined not to give up, determined to prove that this lovely guy could be my guy. But then Funny Guy delivered the final blow, he sent me a text message telling me I was dumped (yes, that’s right, a text message. Pfft). It was over. Finished. End of.
I was angry and I was upset. But after lots of analysing (and once the two-week vodka hangover had worn off) I began to understand why he had done it. I started to accept that it was for the best, and even though he had been my best-friend and my boyfriend all wrapped into one, he had probably done the right thing by kicking us both off the disastrous relationship merry-go-round that we had been riding for far too long. I think deep down, I was even relieved. And that was that.
My second dumpage of 2010 however, was not so simple and straightforward. Because I dated The Cool Guy.
The Cool Guy was the most beautiful people that I had ever laid eyes on (excluding Ewan McGregor and Robert Pattinson of course). He was annoyingly good-looking, in that annoying cool sort of way. Basically, the complete opposite of me!
We hit it off on our first date, and just three dates in I was hooked. I couldn’t get enough. I was smitten. And over the course of the summer we spent a lot of time together, and after 3 months of dating, we decided we were an official couple (when I say we decided, I mean I decided, and he sort of went along with it). I was on cloud nine, cloud 99 in fact. I was gushing over him the way an old lady gushes over their Grandchildren, showing his photo to anyone who would pay attention, and finding any excuse to talk about his awesomeness to anyone who would listen. Quite pathetic really. No, definitely Pathetic. But The Cool Guy assured me he felt the same way and we were spending a lot of time together. ‘Finally’€™ I started to think to myself ‘After all these knobs I’ve dated, God has sent me a decent man, the ultimate dream guy in fact’. So! You can imagine my surprise when just a few weeks down the line (if that, actually) he tells me it’s over.
It hurt like a bitch.
I didn’t actually have any sort of reaction in front of The Cool Guy for fear I would cry – and I had never cried in front of him! But I was gutted. And just shocked. He didn’t really give me a particular reason apart from ‘we’re not compatible’ which, honestly, I thought was a load of bollocks.
I also felt extremely confused as to why it was hurting so much, after all, it had only been a few months! Thinking about it, I barely knew him. I wasn’t in love with him, thats for sure, but for some unknown reason I was gutted. I couldnt even be pissed off with him because he hadn’t really done anything wrong, he hadn’t cheated on me, and he hadn’t promised me some sort of future or serious relationship. Yet, I was crushed.
But most of all, I was frustrated that I was back in that place again. That really depressing place you have to go to when you break-up with someone, where you miss them, you think about them all the time, and you analyse your entire relationship in your head from start to finish. It’s that place where you drive yourself crazy and (in my case) turn into the psycho ex-girlfriend; you spend hours contemplating whether to text or not and then you regret it as soon as you do. Or you search your mind trying to find any tiny excuse to call them, such as ‘Oh hi, it’s me, just a quick call to let you know I have your pen’ in hope they’ll respond with ‘Oh, you have my pen? Lets get back together’ That place I seem to so frequently visit, that place I only left 5 months earlier after Funny Guy, yes, I was back there, again.
God, maybe I actually enjoy attaching myself to boys who so obviously aren’t into me? I honestly cannot figure it out. But what I do know is, I am going to try my hardest to never end up back in that place ever again. I’m not saying I’m giving up on dating, and I’m not saying I’ll marry the next guy I meet, but I will learn from my mistakes and avoid that place.
Because at the end of the day, and without sounding too much like a Charlotte York, I do believe my guy is out there, not the ‘right guy’ or the ‘perfect guy’ (I have now learnt there is no such thing), but just my guy!
Tink Jayne x
(Blog Post dedicated to Greg Behrendt and Amiira Ruotola-Behrendt)