So.. you want to talk about boys? Pull up a pew.
Prepare to be taken on a journey as I walk you through my 11 years of dating disasters, where I have been in 5 relationships (ranging in significance) and been dumped every time.
I met my first boyfriend Tom when I was 14, having freshly moved to Sydney from rural Devon. I had my first proper kiss, during which I stuck my tongue in his mouth and claimed, embarrassed, "that's how we do it in England".
Despite my acne, my arrival in Sydney ruffled a few feathers (purely due to the fresh meat theory).
Once, behind my back, a friend said: *cue Australian accent*
She's not even that pretty, she's just British
Anyway, tangent. Tom and I dated. I bought him cookies every break time. I asked him if he only liked me because I buy him cookies. He said yes. I was dumped.
My second boyfriend Henry owned a vineyard (well, his family did). 14-year-old me, who didn’t even like wine, still saw this as an excellent sign. He was neurotic. I was dumped.
My third boyfriend Trevor (I know, unfortunate), now, according to 16-year-old me, he was the ONE. Super bright, super sweet, and suuuuper close with my best friend Emily. I know… should have seen that one coming. But I was in love with him. And that was all that mattered at the time. We broke up. He took Emily pottery painting? Painting plates? Saw it on my friend's snapchat story (snapchat - what a time!). I told myself I wanted nothing to do with a man (boy) whose date ideas were so geriatric. Basically, again, I was dumped.
I took the breakup reeeeeally well. Like, really well. It only took me 3 months to end up in a psych ward. I, to this day, count that as a win.
The aforementioned psychiatric breakdown took me back to the UK, age 17.
These were the wilderness years. Years of one night stands and your Mum finding condoms under the bed. I really think her reactions were dramatic - at least I was USING condoms?
Fast forward to 2019, I was off to Durham University, where, within the first term, I met Jamie. Not not my usual type, tall and eccentric - I loved him. Our relationship was tumultuous - off and on, left and right, up and down. He could do the worm, and down VKs in under 4 seconds... awesome. He had a real problem with me not eating fish. Said it was childish. Joked that he could never marry a girl who wouldn't eat salmon at Christmas, or anchovies in her Caeser dressing. Although the relationship's demise was traumatising, the fish shaming left a real legacy. To this day, on dates, I invent a fish allergy, keeping me in the clear. Aaanyway, this relationship ended, crashed and burned, with him walking away during another, yep, you guessed it, bipolar episode. Oh joy. I was, yet again, dumped.
I'm a real lover. Part of this bipolar nonsense is feeling every emotion, good or bad, very deeply. Breakups affect me on a fundamental level and take me a hot minute to recover from. Informed by this, I cling on to each relationship until it can stagger forward no longer, crowning me the professional dumpee.
6 months of single life flew by, punctuated by hinge dates aplenty. Farmers, students, PTs, I diversified my portfolio. Then, an old university friend and I decided one day to give things a go. Now, he was bloody gorgeous. Properly hot. And lovely. Kind, relaxed. Things got messy (as they always do), and I was stuck in a complicated tangle of love, lust, and emotional chaos. He has since moved to a different hemisphere entirely (was I that bad?!) with minimal notice. And again, you guessed it! I was dumped. That's 5/5.
And here I am again. Single. Rewatching Bridget Jones (the trilogy). Praying for a Mr Darcy (folding underpants and all), or even a Daniel Cleaver (we all like a bad boy). Feeling, to be honest, lonely. It's a funny one - I am blessed with fantastic, funny, interesting, supportive friends and family.
Superficially 'popular' (cringing writing this - I promise I'm not this arrogant).
Internally missing something.
I think this feeling is an inevitability in your mid 20s, with your friends all at different stages. Some moving in with partners. Some in lovely relationships. Some in tricky relationships. Some single and loving it. Some single and hating it. The diversity of experience can make some feel so alone. Anyway, enough rambling.
Ta-ra for now.
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