So.
They’ve been together 7 months. A female friend of his (who I never met) set them up – apparently she had a glut of single friends. Don’t I keep saying how many single gals there are out there?? And Dave apparently “hit it off” with the first one up to bat. I know next to nothing about her – she works in advertising sales. There’s nothing to suggest she won’t be pretty and funny and clever however. After all, I was (AM). They went to Edinburgh together for NYE. Which is a blow – I could never get him to leave Middlesex. And that alone suggests that this has legs.
Tom (bless Tom) found out the above for me and drip-fed me it when he thought I could cope. I found this all out at the beginning of the month but have been absolutely slain by the flu with warthog-type cough for company. News of True Love didn’t really help my mood or aid recovery but I guess at least I was already miserable so it didn’t destroy my sunny mood or anything. For all those who told me that 2009 was going to be my year: no sign of Captain amazing just yet and I’m yet to have a healthy day so far this year. 11 months to improve my situation.
I am, predictably, gutted. Partly because he is SOMEONE ELSE’S BOYFRIEND. I mean, God… Also, at Break Up MkII he was all “I can’t have a girlfriend right now. I need some time alone” etc etc. And I know we always secretly know that’s bollocks and what it really means is “It’s not me – it’s YOU. God, I just can’t bear to be with you. you drive me NUTS. Even your earlobes annoy me” but I wanted to believe it. I even said to him that – as a previous serial dater – he would be dating again in no time and he looked at hme in horror and said “now way”. well, he waited a whole 6 weeks. Such restraint.
And I’m overwhelmed by how UNFAIR it all is. I’m aware I sound like a 3 year-old, but bear with me. I’m the one that the shitty thing happened to. I got my heart ripped out and the shit metaphorically kicked out of me. So by rights, I should be the one who meets someone incredibly fantastic who nurses my broken heart back into shape etc etc. But apparently life is not Chick Lit. Who knew? The Universe has me flummoxed at this point. Maybe I’m just not destined for Great Things. Although I’m starting to wonder whether I’m destined for Anything At All.
I also feel like an idiot. I started this blog at the end of June which means that during virtually its entire life whilst I’ve been agonising over every last nuance conveyed by the back of his head, he’s been getting on with sticking his dick in someone else and living life. What a waste of my time. Break Up MKI, he panicked after 6 weeks and got back together with me. Break Up MKII, he may have panicked but he got back in the game instead. Every minor triumph that I thrilled at, thinking “when this gets back to him, he’ll be sooooo sorry and he’ll be back” was, in fact, utterly meaningless. If he even heard, he certainly didn’t care. Happily, I still regard my Madonna ligging as a Win. And, if nothing else, the minor triumphs gave me a reason to get out of bed at the time. So maybe that was the point of them. Some victory…
And still, I feel myself waiting it out. I’m rationalising to myself that the rot is bound to set in soon, she can’t possibly be all that I am and he MUST love me and only me.
Which needs to stop. But won’t.
This is just to bring you up to date, if you even still care. I’ve decided that I’m going to carry on with the blog because there’s probably a PYT on every street corner and their voices have a right to be heard. Even if their voices are just mewling “I don;t want to be known as Mr Erection”. However, the time spent navel-gazing over Dave has, I hope, come to an end. Time to draw a line – he’s someone else’s boyfriend for fuck’s sake.
In weird coincidence, Break Up MkI was a year ago this weekend. And I actually forgot that until this monring. Small steps. Today was also the first time I braved breakfast at work in 2009 as I haven’t been able to face the risk of seeing him. I have a new outfit and new shoes on today and decided i was being ridiculous anyway – hundreds of people work here, the odds of us co-ordinating breakfast were low. So I went. And he was there. I don;t think he saw me. He had shit hair. Long may it last.
Fuck it.
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