I Just Don’t Love you Anymore…

I was really messed up by the breakup. Two days before we were to leave for our epic journey together, what I saw as the beginning of our life together, he finally let slip the source of his increasingly showing discontent. We were at my parent’s house for a 10 day visit before our South American tour. It all seemed too perfect. And we all know what they say about things that seem too good to be true.

He didn’t love me anymore. He didn’t want to move to South America. Or at least not with me. Whatever it was that drove him to drop his life and come live with me and make these plans, wasn’t there anymore. He gave no reasons. The love in his eyes had been replaced by coldness and contempt. So much contempt, which until that moment in my parent’s living room after everyone else had gone to sleep, had been kept out of my reach. Until that moment, when I asked what was troubling him, I was given dismissive answers in condescending tones. There, on my mother’s sofa, I cried and sat bewildered. I knew I should have seen this coming, but my longing for the life I’d made up in my head to be our future pushed me to ignore the signs I can see so clearly now.

Now what? Plane tickets were booked and non-refundable. My parents would surely worry if I were to go anyway on my own, and they would make a fuss I wasn’t ready to face. I wasn’t ready for the understanding nods and sympathetic speeches telling me I could do better and would find someone who was right for me. No way could I face my friends’ inevitable reactions of shock and concern when they learned of the demise of the couple they all agreed seemed so perfect for each other. I didn’t want to stay home and find another mundane job and complain about money like all my friends were doing. He agreed that his timing couldn’t possibly have been worse, but he said he couldn’t go on lying to me – or himself.

That night he was trying to be as gentle with me as he could. Joking and giving me the “you’re a great person” speech. I went to bed and he followed. He put his arms around me and asked what I wanted to do. I wanted to go traveling, but how could I still go now? I don’t remember who suggested traveling together for a little while anyway. I think it was his idea, but if it was, it may have been an empty offer – like when someone offers a piece of their chocolate bar just to be polite. But I clung to the possibility that maybe, in a new environment, the feeling of abandon that comes with being on the road, might help us find the real source of the problem and reconcile. A small part of me insisted on believing there was a chance he’d fall in love with me all over again once we were in new and exotic settings.

So I put on my best happy mask and pretended nothing happened for the remaining days with my parents and friends at home. I know my parents picked up on something not being quite right, but I never let them see my sorrow, my panic, my feelings of failure. My parents drove us to the airport and saw us off.

Even on the plane, my hopes of getting back what was lost began to crumble. He didn’t seem to like it if I put my head on his shoulder or gave him my bravest smile and told him we were going to have a great time. Trying to convince myself as much as him.

We arrived in Lima, Peru and checked into just any hotel so we could catch up on lost sleep from 3 flights, countless hours of waiting for connections and endless security line-ups. The room had a television and a private bathroom, and he seemed to be in good spirits when we finally put our bags down. Our room had two beds, but he crawled in with me in the one I had chosen to watch a cheesy 80′s movie starring Keanu Reeves in his early teens. He slept in the other bed, but I had hope that we could somehow figure out how to at least be close friends on this trip. I thought I could come to terms with the recent changes in my life’s plan and stay strong while he was right there, looking so comfortable with himself.

Day two was mostly uneventful and the atmosphere between us was quiet and mostly comfortable. We ignored the elephant in the space between us quite well. And later that night, we met some fun people in the hostel bar, and talked about the sights and attractions we might visit and the places they had been to. We drank a bit too much and ended up in bed together.

Not for a moment did I think this was a sign of his changing his mind, I could now really feel that it was truly over for him. But still, I was stubborn in my belief that we could make this traveling together thing work. I didn’t want to travel alone again, dreading having to relive the feelings of insecurity and loneliness I felt so often when I had done so a few years back.

We arrived in Huaraz after sunset and found a very quaint hostel for the night. Tired out by the journey and still a little hung over from the night before, we holed up with our friends – a guy and a girl from England who were also not a couple – to watch a movie in the TV room before heading to bed early. I was still having a hard time adjusting to sleeping by myself, as we chose to stay in dorm rooms to save money.

The days that followed were nothing like I’d expected. The boys planned all these elaborate climbing trips that didn’t include me or the other girl, who didn’t mind of course, because she was on her way to other destinations on her own in another day or so. More and more, I felt like my presence was a burden to him. Especially when I was the only girl in the group and our English friend was almost as experienced at climbing and mountaineering as he was. When they talked about the 3-day hike we were all going to go on, I got nervous about all the technical climbing that seemed to be involved and suggested that maybe I should stay behind. What I really thought would happen, what I wanted to happen, was that he would comfort me and tell me he’d help me through it. Instead, he seemed to jump at the idea of leaving me behind and hot having to look after me.

I started to feel depressed. This wasn’t anything like I’d hoped it would be. We fought about his attitude, and he told me I wasn’t being understanding enough of his position in all this, and how he was feeling. He needed some space and I was always around. I thought this was unfair since it wasn’t like I had other people to hang out with in this small town and I was afraid to go out alone. We went to sleep without making much progress.

In the next town, an even smaller town in the desert, and this time without the English friend, we had our ups and downs. I cried and poured my heart out about how I was feeling left out and hurt by his cold-shouldered attitude. He nodded and looked at his feet, not really commenting. But we at least agreed to try harder with each other. Again, we drank too much and ended up in bed together. He even put his arm around me the next morning, and I had to remind myself it wasn’t like before.

We moved on again to a place called Arequipa. This is where it all fell apart for good. We met a few people and hung out with them for a few days. We celebrated the birthday of one of the girls, and drank the night away. One of the girls was grilling me about what my relationship to him was. I tried to stay vague but told her we weren’t a couple. He left the bar with a chubby blond. I tried to pretend like it didn’t bother me. I kept on drinking and made small talk with some of the others in the bar. That’s when one of the blond’s friends approached me and told me that her friend was feeling embarrassed because she’d tried to fuck him but he couldn’t get it up. I resisted telling her that always happens to him when he’s drunk. Chubby girl thought it was because of me and the friend was now asking me to console her and tell her I didn’t care if she slept with him. “Come on, please? It’s my birthday and she’s being a downer!” She had no idea what she was asking of me.

This was more than I signed up for. Although the situation with the friend getting me mixed up in the situation wasn’t his fault, I cursed him for being so insensitive and picking up some girl not 3 weeks after we broke up, right under my nose to top it all off. I told the friend I didn’t want to be involved and went to my room (which was miraculously empty) to cry into my pillow. When he came back into the room I drunkenly ranted and raved at him for being such an asshole. He reacted indignantly and insisted that he had done nothing wrong – we weren’t a couple anymore, after all.

The next day, I left without him and went South, knowing he would be going East. I told him that I couldn’t handle traveling with him in these kinds of circumstances and I wasn’t going to put myself through it anymore. He acted concerned, but I saw the relief in his eyes.

Anonymous

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.

You’re Such a Jerk, I’m glad We’re Over

I went out with my ex for 3 and half years. I knew that it was unhealthily claustrophobic and it got to the stage where I really needed to get out as I’d lost so much of my sense of fun and confidence and I had not even realized how bad it had got. Still even after breaking up with him and reconnecting with all my best friends and getting myself back in the social loop and back to dressing up and dancing all night with fights I still kind of felt vaguely guilty about the whole thing. Somehow that it was my fault for changing and letting him down and just that we were not compatible.

As we broke up a few years ago I don’t think about this much so I was surprised when mucking about on myspace a few people down a chain of acquaintances I saw his new girlfriend as a friend’s good friend. So I clicked on her page and read this-

‘…and thank fuck for that! This has just been the shoddiest time as I finally realised that the person I was ‘going out with’ ( a euphemism for slowly stripping shreds of my self confidence away until I couldn’t even focus) was the biggest regret I have. Above and over crackhead boyfriends and being fed through a tube and ‘issues’ and rubbish friends. I met him in the super hot summer of 2006 and I was so happy, happy like Zap does happy, uni was going well, I could go out and dance and talk to people and listen to music late at night and play cards in bed if I felt like it….by the end of it I was a nervous wreck on beta blockers who can no longer drink (and that is tough when you have three Christmas do’s a week for weeks with people you barely know who want you to do karaoke) and no faith in my own opinions or who I am. It is strange to lose your entire sense of self. And of course, I take responsibility for my actions, for being so unable to say no, for trying to break it off so many times and always caving in because of overwhelming guilt and the idea that I am the only person tethered to any kind of reality that he even knows. I know that I could have been a lot more mentally strong and that I am weak and easily manipulated, that problems are always present and I don’t need any pushing to hate myself.

The last few weeks, now that he is no longer there, have been amazing, the lightness and the ability to be free, not to be shouted at with such venom over the fact I like Pavement and LCD Sound system, to sleep without being moaned at, to be in a room and not have to beg someone to leave me alone, to just give me some space.’

I don’t why but this has made me think about things a lot and whilst she clearly has had a crap time its almost comforting as it kind of confirms that he was unreasonable and manipulative and maybe its not totally my fault I was so miserable and couldn’t seem to work out why. I kind of knew I wasn’t all the things he insidiously accused me of such as being dull and conformist (which I am to an extent, but having a job, being independent and not sponging off my Mum is something worth conforming to I think), and stupid and picky and I don’t know nothing good, but to hear that he has turned someone else (I met the girl a few times through friends she looks like Cate Blanchet meets Kate Moss and was really fun to hang out with) really confirms that.

I suppose I thought I’d post this as it showed me that maybe I had a lot of insecurity from an old relationship that I wasn’t really dealing with and it takes a random source (his ex-girl in this case) to appreciate I don’t need to carry that. I am tempted to write her an email to say its ok I know how she feels, but think that would be too odd (I mean I read your blog on myspace makes me sound a bit stalker-ish even though I haven’t seen her page for well over a year) and maybe not be as helpful for her.

Anonymous

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.

I’ll take the Soup with a Side of Herpies Please

Alright. This one’s short, and gross.

One day I was waitressing and someone ordered the soup. It was a slow day, so it was relatively quiet in the kitchen. I went in, and there was a cup of the soup on the warming counter. I took it to the lady and went back to the kitchen. Then, one of my co-workers said, “Where’s my soup?”

Next thing I know the kitchen said “soup’s up”. I’m thinking… crap, I said, “Oh no, I think I took your soup!” Which wouldn’t have mattered, had my co0worker not already eaten out of the soup that I just served. And really that wouldn’t have been sooo bad, except she then told me that she currently had an open cold sore on her lip. Ohhh myy god! We both laughed, but really we felt bad at the same time. Unfortunately it was too late to do anything about it, so best not to do or say anything at all.

Man does this need to stay anonymous, I never told my boss!

Anonymous

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.

You think you’ve got dating issues??

Ah, the dating scene in Asian countries. A virtual utopia for the white foreign male, an (forced smile) interesting environment for the foreign female, and something in between for the locals. Guys, you have it made here in Asia, foreigners are widely popular among the local women. You need only put in the slightest of efforts in just about any social area, and BAM! Instant love connection. Who even needs to spend large sums in the bars anymore, when you can find your, er, soul-mate by pretending to read at the book store!

For us foreign girls, it tends to be a little more complicated, especially for those of us who are not contented fawning all over our potential mate only to proceed to clean his house, do his laundry and basically become his second mother if it becomes more than just one date. Of course there are always exceptions, and some of my friends have found love in this great land, but they are pretty few and far between.

Another interesting point I just found out about recently, is that a large number of the local women here have taken a shine to a new cosmetic procedure to change the color of their nipples! Apparently, it is widely believed here that a nice light pink colored nipple is a sign of “purity” in a woman, and so, any woman cursed with a darker shade may easily be suspected of being “too liberal”. I wonder if it’s an instant color change – the moment you make love for the first time, BLAMO! – or if it happens over time.

Anonymous

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.

Revenge… how sweet the sex.

I’ve never been a fan of the whole “one night stand” scene. I have no judgment about it… I just always believed that sex belonged with love and was afraid a fling would make me feel used and cheap. But there was this ONE time….

I had just gotten out of a relationship with a really controlling guy, only to be horribly dumped by the next “prospect”. I was pretty emotionally beaten up, and dammit, I needed some comfort. A shag would be perfect! And I knew just who to get one from.

Rewind a few years to my high school years. My long term boyfriend, whom I worshiped and thought was just the best thing that had ever happened to me, cheated on me. Twice. After the first time, I dumped him, and he started going out with the girl, but they broke up shortly after, so I took him back. Then he cheated AGAIN with another girl, and although I was done with him, after I got over the whole thing, we managed to stay friends. This time he stayed in a long term relationship with the girl.

Fast forward back to where we left off, he is still with the same girl, but I know it won’t take much to get him in bed, after all, he WAS a cheater, and most likely still is.

So I called him up and asked him to come over, and told my roommate that I would be “busy”. I bought him a little gift (I considered it “payment”), and when he came over, I told him I had a present for him and brought him upstairs.

I gave him his present, then as we were having casual conversation, I started undressing. First my socks, then my shirt, and by the time I got to my bra, he was all over me. Done deal. I had my way, enjoying the beautiful irony that I was having sweet revenge on the girl that had “stolen” my boyfriend, and on my ex as well, as I knew this would cause him trouble in his present relationship. The sex was fricking fabulous!

Afterwards, I sent him on his way, and asked my roommate, who was on her way to the bar, to let it slip about my one-night stand so his girlfriend’s friends would hear about it and of course, tell her. I planned to deny, deny, deny, but I knew that the suspicion itself would get to her enough to put a dent in their relationship.

Do you know the funniest thing about it? My plan went perfectly, I got my shag, and he actually CALLED the next morning. I got my roommate to answer and never called him back. It was beautiful.

I’m still not a huge believer in one night stands, but if you know FOR SURE that you have absolutely no emotional attachment and no expectations for afterwards, then shag away, girl.

Anonymous

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.

Junior Caramels in your Pants?

So I’m at the movie theatre in West Edmonton Mall, in the late 80′s… sporting an afro-esque semi-home perm and eyebrows that make Benito Del Toro look like he’s just been to the salon. I’m wearing a radical fluorescent jacket that is as flattering as a Glad Bag… wouldn’t want to show off any of my new curves or bumps, that I’m still waiting for 21 years later!

Right, back to the story… not sure what movie I’m at but I can assure you the lead actor was probably a Teen Beat centerfold and posted all over my bedroom walls. I buy a massive drink and super-sized box of Junior Caramels. You can imagine how excited I was that the Junior Mint company introduced this new treat! Gotta get the jumbo box!

Half way through the movie, I’ve put a very small dent into the box of candy, and nature calls. I ask my friend to look after my Caramels while I excuse myself.

I get back to my seat and discover the box to have about 10 Caramels left. I accuse my friend that she’s eaten most of my candy so I’m pissed off throughout the rest of the show, I can barely deal with it. She denies that she ate them but I’m still pissed and am searching the floor, her jacket, my seat, my jacket. No Caramels, so she must have eaten them.

The movie ends, I stand up and I am freakin’ mortified. It feels like my worst nightmare come true. My pants feel like they are around my ankles and I can’t move. Here I am, standing in the aisle thinking that my pants fell down! How the hell did this happen? I’m keeping my cool, trying not to attract attention. As I’m trying to figure out what the hell happened, I quickly realize that I have a pound of sticky caramel gluing the ass of my pants to my knees, and of course you can imagine what it looked like?!!!

I don’t think I’ve eaten another Junior Caramel since…

Anonymous

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.

I’ll show you mine!

A friend was moving home and needed a place to stay for a few weeks before her flight. The fist night she moved in we went out to a bar down the street and got 2 for 1 drinks. We were hopped up on the redbull and were crazzzilicious animals!

We left that pub, but decided that it wasn’t time to end a good night. She called the boys and we all then went to Carnage (where you dance on the bar and table tops).

We drank and drank and drank some more. I was dancing on the bar and I was so hammified I ended up falling and getting stuck in the sink. One of the guys had to help me out and we left.

We all purchased bbq-ed weenies on sticks that they were selling outside but my friend and I had to pee. Wouldn’t you know it ~ BAM ~ there’s the sign that we always laugh about, ” Please do not take the urine here”. We thought “hell let’s make a urine.” So down we went into the nicely lit corner. Dropped undies and had a wee.

I heard the next day that I had fallen over head first trying to save my weenie on a stick laughing. All the time while fully flashing the boys. My friend was yelling don’t stare you creepers, bless her heart. They proved to do otherwise and I know this because the next weekend out, one of the guys said ” I like how you shave everything.”

Ooooooh!
How’s that for Bare ass ment!

Anonymous

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.