It’s happened, another break up has happened in my life and while I am sad over this, I refuse to shed a tear. Not out of spite, not out of animosity but simply because life goes on. Welcome to your blog post G … (yes, that was a 13 Reasons Why reference).
It began like any other gay-romance, Grindr, he messaged me out of the blue and seemed keen. As the conversation went on I began to feel like we didn’t have much in common at all and after only a week or so, I ended it without even meeting the guy.
However, a few months (I think), the same guy came knocking again. Physically he wasn’t my “type”, I wasn’t instantly attracted to him but he seemed to genuinely like me, I found him funny and nice and basically everything on paper I wanted. It was almost like he was a very different guy than the first time round.
On our first date in November 2016, he picked me up at my home to see Doctor Strange, with us both being Marvel movie geeks it seemed like the perfect fit. I had a very nice time, we instantly connected with laughter and music and I won’t ever forget the smiles we had in that dark cinema room. I’ll also never forget the fact we both wanted to kiss eachother as he dropped me off home but we were both too cowardly and expressed this during text straight away.
The plane that was our relationship began to take off after that moment.
As we had more and more meet-ups, which included a romantic candle-lit sex session, which was way more sensual than I expected and I applaud you for that. I felt irrevocably wanted. We also had a few nice trips: shopping, going out for food and even a memorable afternoon at the arcade.
Then it became apparent we were heading for a crash.
The cracks started to show when your nice-guy persona faded, I saw flaws which wriggled around inside my brain. The fact you obsessed over money – “I’ve paid for this but don’t forget next time you’re paying for XYZ” – which could have been a kind, sweet gesture you turned into a business arrangement and didn’t give me any opportunity to even offer to pay for the next date at my own suggestion. I wonder, did you think I relied on your money? That I was a gold digger? I’m proud of the fact I work full time and I can pay for whatever I want, I never needed you to pay for me.
Oh and how could I forget, after promising to get me something for my birthday, you didn’t get me anything. I didn’t expect a big present after a couple of months of dating but I didn’t expect a big fat nothing.
What also hurt me was how boring you became, you relied too much on “Netflix and chill” with me to the point where I had to beg you to be social, I had to ask and ask for a date night or a cinema trip, or anything. Perhaps it was the years of weed smoking which made you lazy, but you always made time and found the money to hang with your friends.
I must interject at this point, with another nice memory I’ll always remember. A trip we took, or first night sleeping in the same bed, where you first told me you loved me (and it was the first and only time you did).
For months I faced a constant internal struggle, do I really like you as a person? or did I simply like the fact I could say I had someone there? – Sometimes I blind myself when I see something wrong, I like the feeling of having an emotional attachment purely because deep down I have a fear of being alone and that brainwashes me into not seeing when someone isn’t treating me with respect.
For so long I wanted to confront you on your uncaring ways and the boredom I felt for us, I hoped you did like me enough deep down to handle it when I did tell you but when I had enough the read-not-reply game you always played or your harsh words when I needed you most, I snapped, I told you how I felt and part of me hoped it would pull you back into reality, that you’d be a man I could truly love. But after 2 days of not replying, you ended it.
I gave you the opportunity to fix us and you said No.
But I can’t blame you, you only did what I was too afraid to do a while ago. I can’t ever forgive you for disappointing me, for not trying, for not caring. All I can do is be thankful that I had somebody in my life who did give me moments of pure happiness and moments where I didn’t feel completely alone.
Thank you G.
I will be strong, I have to be. When I put it into perspective, I have been through much worse break-ups, where I have been so upset I can’t eat or I drink myself into oblivion and that has made me stronger. Much like this break-up will do.
Every time it happens, or the break up is close to happening, I cling onto whatever chance I have left because I feel as though I won’t ever find anyone else. But you know what? I have. I’ve found other men and had other relationships and I have to believe that it will happen again for me.
(I apologise for the rant, but these posts will continue. 13 Reasons Why made me realise how therapeutic it is to document your heartbreak and hurt, how invigorating it feels to get your feeling off your chest when you can’t tell the person who hurt you what affect they had. I hope you all do the same.)
Everyone Has A Story, Here's Mine 