I ignored the ‘Did you get home safely?’ message…. I wasn’t ready to talk. I sleep, intermittently. When I wake, no other message. Do I text? No. I’m fucking mad at him. I need time to decide how I’m going to deal with this. Find out why in Friends with Benefits – The Finale (or is it….)
I watch the Marathon. I’m ready, I know what I need to say. I’m feeling sassy and mentally preparing my bold, assertive and nonchalant response.
What the hell? My first thought is HOW BLOODY DARE HE! Doesn’t he know what I was about to fire off? Who am I going to assassinate with my words now?! I am literally fuming at this moment in time. This man, this bloody man – he has infiltrated my brain for nearly 18 months now. I genuinely feel like I should be able to say what I need to say. And I can’t. I’ve been accused of sleeping with someone I went to school with – which is so far from the truth its not even funny. My bloody phone – it’s staying off at night now. It’s not even as if the other guy had a right to message that late at night – I haven’t seen him for like 18 years…. how can he be ruining my now-perfect orgasm set up from the comfort of his own bed? I almost want to scream and shout at him and say ‘if only you’d bloody seen me on Tuesday morning when I looked like a warthog and I had Monday’s make up half way down my face’. Man, I am pissed off. I’ve got nobody to yell at and I’ve lost my amazing oral expert.
For the rest of the day, I check my phone. WHAT. IS. THAT. Why am I doing this? I know I’m blocked. I’m sitting here eating Malteasers like my life depends on it and I’m blocked. That isn’t going to change. I’m like a love sick puppy needing to hear from him – like I am craving it. How does that even happen? He was a cunt. Why do I feel like I need his name to flash up?
This is what this situation has done to me. In a matter of weeks, that old fucker emotion has crept up on me and hit me slap bang in the middle of the face and I am floored. Is this a build up since September 2016? Have I really allowed him to break my wall down that much?
He said himself he cares…… (And for the record I had ASKED on 2 occasions if he was fucking anyone else because I would take a step back if so. He didn’t see it like that).
For the next few weeks I am miserable. The kind of miserable you feel when you end a relationship. This wasn’t that. It was just sex. Fucking amazing sex but ‘just sex’ all the same. My eyes have never checked my phone so much. My girls are there, cheerleading my life from the sidelines. It should be enough to take me out of this lull but it isn’t.
I just have so many questions and the biggest one I’m asking myself is WHY AM I SO BOTHERED? HE TREATED ME SO BADLY. AND I LET HIM THINK IT WAS OK TO DO THAT – RIGHT FROM THE START.
SHAME. ON. ME.
I allowed this. If I had never of gone round there that night, none of this would’ve ever happened. I’m 34 at this point. I should know better. I’m strong, sassy and full of life. I can make tough decisions. I can have difficult conversations with my eyes closed. Why, this time, have I allowed somebody to pull the wool over my eyes? I had started to believe he cared, from things he said. I mean, 18 months is a substantial period of time to keep in touch with someone….. I come to the conclusion that he either wasn’t getting his dick wet elsewhere or he was just bored. Time to get my shit together and stand tall like I know I can.
I grieve a little longer and then life gets so busy, I don’t have time to sit and realise that I’m checking my phone less and I can go a day without thinking about him.
I’m studying for an exam, finishing assignments and working hard. My brain is busy. I don’t have time for boys but I kinda miss the conversation, so I scroll every now and then through the apps. As usual, nothing takes my fancy. There isn’t even anyone close to creating a flame for a candle let alone the fire I know I crave.
Anyone who has used POF will know that on the dashboard, there are photos at the bottom. The app itself can sometimes be quite slow. So, I’m scrolling across the bottom and see a dark blonde guy with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. I am 100% clicking on him – he’s the only one to have stirred my loins for a while. I pick my tea up from the side of the sofa…. click on his face and somehow – I think I’ve realized that if there is a God, he FUCKING HATES ME – because the dark blonde blue eyed hunk switches to a different profile and would you believe my cunting luck – IT’S THAT MOTHERFUCKER’S PROFILE.
WHAT IS MY LIFE? DOES THE MAN UPSTAIRS REALLY HATE ME THAT MUCH? OH MY GOD, NOW HES GOING TO SEE THAT I LOOKED AND THINK I’M PINING FOR HIM OR SOME SHIT. SOMEONE GIVE ME SOME LUCK – PLEASE! IM BURNT OUT AND MY FACE HAS BROKEN OUT IN SPOTS AND NOW THIS PRICK IS GOING TO THINK I’M DREAMING ABOUT HIM AND SPYING ON HIS PROFILE! (He in no way needs to know that I had pretty much grieved his penis like Joey grieves every lost sandwich opportunity).
After nearly shitting my French knickers, I regroup. I mean, he’s going to know I’ve looked now so I may as well just enjoy his photos? No, woman, do not do this. Click out of it.
But I can’t. The curiosity is too much. New photos……. damn, forget the shit in my knickers, they’re already wet again. That boy can reduce me to a level of moistness that we don’t even see on The Great British Bake Off. Fuck, he looks good. He always does, but that face, those eyes, that beard. J-E-S-U-S.
I must stop. I do not need to be doing this. I don’t even read what’s in his profile. I click out and try to sleep. He’s there in my mind as I drift off.
Somehow in the night, I’ve woken up and checked my phone – and fallen asleep with it in my hand. I wake up to 41 messages on POF. What is this?! I read them all and obviously, they’re all idiots. You’d think I would’ve learnt by now don’t you? TURN THE PHONE OFF LIKE YOU SAID YOU WOULD.
I get my stuff ready for work and as I go to leave, a notification pops up that I have a message on POF. I obviously assume its another 4am POF surfer and drive to work oblivious. I have breakfast to eat and that’s way more important currently. Just before 9am, I check my WhatsApp and respond to the girls. That notification is still there – I figure I may as well check it.
IT IS A. I REPEAT – IT IS A.
Ohhhhhhhhh shiiiiiittttttttttt – I don’t want to open it. My stomach is pulling more G’s than Colossus and I actually feel sick. I can’t open it. I have a busy day – I can’t be distracted, I have meetings I need to concentrate on. I am pacing my office. What do I do? This is what this boy does to me. Oh my god I feel sick. I tell myself to grow a pair and I click onto it to open it.
“Hey, that’s so weird that you looked at my profile as I thought about you yesterday”
Is he SHITTING me? I’m furious. Has nothing happened in his brain since the last time we saw each other? He kicked me out of his house and now he’s sending shit like that? I think I’d have preferred it if he had seen it and just ignored me.
I go to my meeting and I’m trying so hard to block him from my mind. Do I respond?
My day goes on and as it draws nearer to lunch, the pull is just too much. So I reply.
“Thinking about me, that’s unlike you…”
An instant response.
“Yes, I don’t know why! How are you?”
How am I? HOW AM I? I’m fucking frustrated. I want to shake you and fuck you all at the same time. I’m as dry as the fucking Sahara and I need your mouth desperately. Obvs I do not say this but I keep it neutral.
We talk for a while intermittently. That afternoon my WhatsApp goes off.
“The question is, am I blocked?”
Well. Now I know he has obviously unblocked me to send me this. WHY? Why is he doing this? Did he keep my number even though he blocked me? I removed my picture for non contacts so I know he hasn’t just recognized my photo as he won’t see it – BECAUSE I DELETED THAT MOFO. My brain is currently more jumbled than spaghetti junction. And yes, being a girl I am obviously overanalyzing everything.
I respond telling him he clearly isn’t but that he shouldn’t of been surprised if he had of been. And would you believe he actually apologized! At that moment I just couldn’t believe it. That was not A. He doesn’t apologize. He is more stubborn than I am and this isn’t him. At all.
I wait a while to respond. I’ve learnt my lesson. Trying to keep him at an arms length is super hard.
Over the next few weeks we exchange a few messages, some flirty, some filthy, some talking about what we both wanted out of whatever this was.
In the bath one day, I think of him. I open my phone and type a message ‘I miss your head between my legs, I need your mouth again’. It delivers and he reads it immediately. he’s typing.
Nothing comes. I go out for the afternoon.
I look back later and wonder if this message really is that long…….
That’s it. I know now that this is finished. Its over. For good. I had held back this time, read the messages and left him on blue ticks for so hours. It made no difference. Even being stronger than before.
Whatever this was, I can’t even put it into words. I have no clue as to what has just happened. We were planning on meeting up again in the next few days.
I’m gob smacked but I’m too pissed off to be upset. It is what it is and I cant change it. I wouldn’t force it. If it isn’t what he wanted, it isn’t what he wanted and I have no right to force him to want it or me.
I switch off and focus on myself. Get through work and study and go back to the gym.
27 August bank holiday I don’t go out – who even am I anymore? I get an early night and this means I wake up at 4ish.
3 missed calls, 1 WhatsApp voice call and a message……… from A.
I have to double check its him. I deleted his number again but I know the end digits…. who else would it be? I check, its definitely him.
I respond and he’s fucking blocked me again. WHAT IS THIS BOY DOING TO ME?
I’ve had enough of this. FUCK HIM AND HIS FUCKING SHITTY BEHAVIOUR. I send a message via iMessage.
I send one last message and I know in my heart that it will be the last time I ever contact him.
That really is it now. He’s shown who he really is and what he is isn’t for me. No matter how good his fingers and mouth are. He isn’t enough for me. What he is ‘offering’ isn’t enough for me. I deserve better.
And I’m going to find it.