break up

Incident Twenty: The End

Suffice to say things were reaching a bit of a dead end with Mr Weirdo. He was seeing another girl behind my back regularly, we hadn’t slept together in just over a year and following the fallout of Mr Xbox I was once again too nervous to leave.

That was until my cat died. I know it sounds pathetic, but my cat was 15 years old, I’d had him since I was a child, and where everything else in my life had seemed so chaotic, the cat was my one constant. I firmly believe that as we buried him, we buried a large part of me too.

I stopped eating. I lay in bed all day but rarely slept. I ignored messages from AWS1 and my few remaining other friends, as well as Mr Weirdo. I remember wanting to die but feeling it would be so much effort that I couldnn’t even do that.

Mr Weirdo began losing his temper. He barged his way into my home and dragged me physically from my home, forcing me to go to dinner at his. I sat all evening at their table weeping until even his mum took pity on me and told me I was excused.

Mr Weirdo demanded I start taking antidepressants, otherwise he would have no choice but to leave, “And believe me, nobody else will put up with this kind of behaviour”. I went to the GP, was given a course of Citaloprams, and hid them in my room. I never touched a single pill, but luckily showing Mr Weirdo the box had convinced him enough.

Onne of Mr Weirdos friends suggested to him that we should go on a date, the idea being that you treat it like a fresh start and new life is pumped back into the dead relationship.

I dressed up, did my hair and make up, then as soon as we got to the restaraunt (“I’m not paying for you, this is your fault, not mine”) realised I was too broke to pay and didn’t want to treat it as a new start. At all.

I began demanding to know why he was cheating on me. Mr Weirdo denied it even as he was texting her under the table. A frosty silence ensued. After the starters, I’d had enough. I insisted he drive me back home.

The journey was silent and tense, and then he took a wrong turn. I waited for him to turn back round, but he carried on. He stopped outside the house of the other girl. He parked.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then” he said.

I stared at him in disbelief, “This isn’t my house”.

He looked at me, looked at the house and blushed before cracking up laughing.

“Oops!” He says.

I kicked the car stereo in with my heels, and believe me that stopped him laughing. I had to walk back to my own home.

As soon as I got in, I changed the setting on my Facebook to “single” and ignored all his calls. After 3 days of being rejected he sent me a message saying he understood we needed to take a break so I could “fix myself” and then come back when I was ready. Much like the broken car stereo.

I held strong, fighting against my now automatic instincts to just go back because I had no energy for confrontation.

ASW1 was, as always, brilliant. She firmly told me I was right not to take him back, even though I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough or if it really was “just a break”.

That’s when I got the email from Dear Diedre.

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