Relationships

In my perpetually single days, I used to believe I’d make an amazing girlfriend.  I had the logistics down. I was funny, caring, non possessive, could cook, secure, clever and could talk to anymore. I was amazing.

But that was never enough. I was still always single. Unloved.

In third year university,  apart from having a boy I was crazy about for four years rip my heart out and destroy it, I had my friends abandon me.

I remember seeing a campus shrink. I told him that people didn’t seem to want to stay around in my life. He said “maybe there’s something wrong with you”.

Fast forward 8 years to my currently missing boyfriend and that’s the only thing on my mind.  What’s wrong with me?

The problem with being single for 24 years is the self doubt people fill your head with. At age 15 my aunt asked me Where’s my boyfriend?  I said I don’t have one? Her response: “what’s wrong with you?”

She gave me a rose quartz to keep so that I may attract love. But I never found love. I’d wear my best underwear going out in attempt to find someone who’d want to see it, and never did.

Maybe it was true. Something was wrong with me.

My past in relation to love is a complete mess. There was a sense of desperation, a longing for someone to fill the deep void within me. A yearning to feel connected. Alive. Validated.

In high school, I liked every guy that smiled at me or said hello. I stalked two teachers because they saw a talent in me. Then told a girl I loved her because she paid attention to me. I remember one day, in the midst of parental chaos as my family panicked about me being lesbian, I thought that this girl was the only person who ever really loved me and I’d be stupid not to love her back.

Naturally I destroyed her. Broke her heart into a million pieces because I made her give me everything she was, only to realise that I’m not lesbian.

In university,  I pseudo liked a guy to fit in and then fell in ‘love’ with his friend. We fitted perfectly like a algebraic equation. But he never liked me back. There was a moment when I think he was tempted to give me a chance, but I ran. Four years of a volatile friendship that involved a lot of deleting and reinviting on mxit, he destroyed me. I was broken for two years. I couldn’t escape him. I couldn’t let go of the trauma of how things ended. My family knew him. He had met my mum. It was the first time I had allowed someone to see and reject me. And that rejection cut deeper than any movie or song has described it.

I used to cry a lot. Praying, wishing that someone out there would just love me for me. As I am. Would see that I am amazing. Who would be my life partner in crime. My plus one in every adventure. Like sherlock and Watson. Bonnie and clyde.

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So two years after that heartbreak and inability to shake him off, I made the biggest mistake ever. I was numb. I wanted to be broken.  To let for of the idea that some day I’d fall in love and be happy and romantically lose my virginity. I allowed a married guy to break my hymen.  Why? Because he smiled at me. He gave me attention and compliments.  He saw me.

It was a drunken painful mess that involved three failed attempts and being treated like a stray dog.

When I said I didn’t want to sleep with him again, he stopped talking to me. Stopped looking at him. And I was left with nothing.

For a year I watched him pick up different woman with the same lines.

I was 24 at the time. I kinda feel like after I lost my virginity,  growing stopped mattering.  It’s was also when I became more wreckless, more lost, more numb.

A guy friend from university,  who had been there for me, listened to me slowly lose reality after the married guy. It impacted me more than i thought it would. So around 6 months later, when my friend said he wished I knew what sex felt like with “someone who cared” about me, I invited him to my place.

He took a two hour bus ride to have sex with me and it was a really bad experience.  I felt like he had treated me worse than the married guy. The married guy made me feel wanted, desirable.  with my friend I left like a blow up doll he detested but still stuck his dick in. We had one session, cut short and then he slept on the couch. We haven’t spoken since.

The question popped up again: what is wrong with me?

I chatted to a guy from another city. We had connected instantly in a clichéd glance from across the room but we didn’t talk until two months later. It was as if I’d finally met someone who saw the world as I did. My favourite moment was sitting on the grass listening to music while soaking up the sun.

I shared everything about my life with him and I felt him look at me like Don draper, saying don’t tell me no one’s ever loved you.

When he told me he loved me I wasn’t ready for it and in an awkwardness he said he loved me as a friend. He’d whatsapp me when he was with other woman, saying that he wished they were me.

Then he pulled away. Disappeared for months. Until one February he rode his motorbike for 11 hours to get to me. I sneaked out my parents home to see him. My hair curly.  My make up on point. At his hotel we lay side by side for a while, just talking.  He kissed me. I looked him in his eyes and told him I loved him. He said it back. I said no, I mean it. He said he does to.

We had an amazing two days.  He played me guitar before I slept. He taught me a new song.

When he went back, he answered my call pleasantly. We discussed moving to a different city together. We bonded. It was beautiful. Two days later he told me he never wanted to see me again. He called me psycho and unstable.  Said I was throwing my toys around after a simple whatsapp message. “hi. How’s your day going? Miss u.”

Rewind to age 16 when my brother told me he wanted nothing to do with my life.

Rewind to age 17 when my teacher told me she wanted nothing to do with me.

Rewind to age 19 when the girl told me I was spineless and ruined her life.

Rewind to age 21 when the university dude told me his life was better without me.

I crashed.

I started messaging guys asking if they wanted to have sex. I slept with two before I met my first boyfriend.  We became a couple on the day I was meant to shag guy 3.

I was with him because he said the right things. He made me feel confident again worthy. Most of it was a lie because he was too lost and broken to truly love anyone.

In the first month we had an argument twice. Both times he shut me up by saying let’s get married.  The third time he said it I said okay, let’s do it. He chickened out instantly.

He was terrible with money but, me being smitten as I was about him being my first boyfriend,  I gave him whatever he needed.

We spent three months together before I relocated. Feeling sorry for him because he had nothing, I left him much of my living things and some prized possessions.

The relationship just got worse. He’d email me from fake accounts to find out details about my sexual past. He’d get depressed whenever I went out. He got upset when I allowed a friend to stay at my place. He’d drink after pay day and ask me to buy him electricity later. The worst was when he drove up to see me, spent wrecklessly and then asked for money to get back home.

It become emotionally taxing and for months I struggled to break up because without him I’d feel vulnerable,  unloved, without confidence.  And in that time I was at my then heaviest.

Then I met my current boyfriend.  Will continue tomorrow.  Just needed to let this out.

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