Sometimes, something happens in your life that leads you to reassess your life; the mistakes you’ve made, the decisions you regret; everything that leads up to where you are today. For me, the prospect of yet another failed relationship has left me feeling unlovable and questioning what it is that’s wrong with me that has led to me always being alone. I’m far from perfect. I’m not the prettiest or most exciting person in the world; I’m stubborn and I need reassurance. A LOT of reassurance. But I’m a good person. I love hard and I give the people that matter to me everything I have, even when that leaves me with nothing. So why do my relationships always fail?
There’s a line in an Ed Sheeran song: ‘I’ve been known to give my all, sitting back looking at every mess that I’ve made.’ You can listen to it here: Ed Sheeran - Dive [Official Audio]
So I decided to take myself on a journey - looking at every mess that I’ve made - all the way back to the beginning, when I first dipped my toes into the murky waters of love as a naive 14-year old, hoping to find some answers. So here goes.
The sometimes beautiful, often ugly truth of my love life so far, STDs and all.
DISCLAIMER: I just want to point out that I wasn’t intimate with all of the men I discuss here (not that it should matter if I had been - my body, my choice). Some I never touched, kissed or had any physical contact with at all. Also, bear in mind that I attended an all-girls school so I may have gotten a bit excited when I found boys in the real world!! So please be kind and don’t judge… I’ve added a song or two for each one as well, that either reminds me of that time in my life or says something about the relationship. To protect their identities, I’ll refer to them by their initial only. Oh, and I know this is called an A-Z but I don’t cover the whole alphabet, although there are quite a few C’s - make of that what you will…
My first kiss. I was 14 and he was 19, which, looking back, was so wrong. I met him at a church youth club and he kissed me under a bridge in Sparkbrook. I remember being shocked and not really knowing what to do - we were out playing a massive game of hide and seek and I wasn’t attracted to him at all. But when he grabbed me and stuck his tongue in my mouth, I remember thinking he smelled good so I just went with it. I felt awkward afterwards, especially when he didn’t speak to me again and went off to university a few days later. So my first kiss kind of set the tone for what was to come for me in my love-life: not quite how I imagined and not really what I wanted.
My aunt was a foster carer, and A was one of her foster kids. He was trouble with a capital T. We were both 15 and while I was a good girl, studying hard for my GCSE’s, he’d been kicked out of school and spent his time smoking weed and robbing people. So of course he was the person I chose to be my first proper boyfriend and the one I was first intimate with. My family warned me away from him, which only made me like him more (remember I said I’m stubborn?) and we ‘went out’ with each other for about a year. I tried hard to help him - I got him a prospectus for college and encouraged him to do more with his life. In the end, he went to prison for attempting to stab my friend’s dad with a screwdriver.
Where to begin? We met at college (funnily enough, I ended up going to the college I’d tried to get A to attend) and the best way to describe him was cool and moody. Another one who always smelled good. He had tattoos and played basketball and was a very talented poet - he wrote me loads of letters and poems at the start of our relationship. He lived alone, not with parents, which totally impressed me, and he didn’t smoke weed like all the other boys I knew. I’d never seen or met anyone like him and it wasn’t long before I ran away from home (unintentionally, mind - I’d only planned to stay out for one night but it ended up being 8 months which is a story for another time!) and we lived together. I can’t pinpoint exactly what happened that caused us to break up, but I do remember feeling jealous at times when he’d be over-friendly with other girls. I was going through a bit of an identity crisis at the time - if you’ve read my previous blogs, this was around the time of the plantain incident - and I guess I was trying to work out what I needed to do to fit in. We didn’t part on friendly terms but we communicated a few years ago on social media and there are no hard feelings.
Quite possibly the love of my life. We spent 3 years together and I don’t think I’ve ever again felt loved like I felt from him. We were best friends, we went on holiday together (my very first time on a plane was with him), we laughed, took the piss out of each other… we were literally soulmates for that time. It makes me feel weird writing about him now, there’s a huge smile on my face, remembering those really happy times, but a massive sense of sadness and regret to know that I hurt him and never had anything like it since. Maybe because we were young and didn’t have the responsibilities that we have as adults, but we were a perfect fit. But me being Miss Self-Sabbotage, I got it in my head that I was too ambitious for him and I wanted more from life than he did at the time. I had miscarriage and completely shut him out, which is a massive regret. He was so kind and thoughtful, he’d write me letters and play with my hair for hours; he literally would’ve done anything for me but I pushed him away. I could really be myself with him, I never had to put on a show or pretend to be someone else. He loved me and accepted me for all that I was and everything I wasn’t.
We reconnected for a while after my divorce (that’s coming next). I remember meeting him in a bar and a few drinks in, we kissed and he said, ‘Remember me?’ It was like we’d never been apart. But ultimately, he found it hard that I’d had kids with someone else, which I completely understand. He had a baby recently and I genuinely wish him all the happiness and the absolute best in life.
The turning point in my life. I was 22 and he was 30, married with 3 children from 3 women, dating my boss and had another girl living at his mother’s. Yep. Red flags or what? After an argument with C, my boss ended up taking her own life. People at work blamed him and the fixer in me decided I should try to be a friend. Before I knew it, I’d moved 40 miles away from home, isolated from my family, no job, no friends, no money, babysitting his kids while he worked at night and told what to wear. He stripped away my identity and the person I had searched so hard to find and become. He used to lock me in the house and I was only ever allowed to get a job when he was seeing someone else. We got married when I was 23 at a registry office; we had 5 guests and my dress was red and from New Look. Again, not quite what I’d dreamed of. On the rare occasion we went anywhere - well, when I went anywhere, because he still lived his life - I’d learned to walk with my head down because if I even glanced in the direction of another man, I’d be publicly accused of sleeping with him and called a ‘slag’ or a ‘slut’. And that was the thing - he was never physically violent to me. It was all a mind-fuck. He’d do stuff then swear blind he hadn’t; he’d constantly tell me I was mad and imagining things; he’d tell me people were talking about me and nobody liked me. I wasn’t allowed to straighten my hair or wear my contact lenses. I suffered three miscarriages while we were together which he blamed on me and, after finding out I had an STD after the birth of my daughter, the ‘slag’ and ‘slut’ insults became more and more intense. Never mind the fact he must’ve given it to me, as he was sleeping with other women. And the lies! Oh the lies… he’d been in the army, he’d been a fighter in Thailand, he’d been in the Chelsea Headhunters… every night he’d be late from work because his car had broken down/he’d been arrested/there was a crash on the motorway. Any time I questioned him (which I discovered pretty quickly that I shouldn’t), he’d turn it around on me and cause a massive argument which I’d end up apologising for. He’d tell me I was fat, ugly, worthless; that I should be grateful that he would even look at me and it was my fault he went with other women because I was a state. Aged 28, with two beautiful children, I finally found the strength to leave and moved back home to my Mom’s. He continued the abuse even then, wearing me down by calling every day, telling me I was a shit mother and he was going to court to have the kids taken away from me. He hasn’t seen our children for over 10 years now and doesn’t pay any money towards their upbringing. I heard recently that he’d had his 10th child with his third wife.
There’s so much more I could say about this marriage; in fact, it’s a big part of the reason why I’m in therapy. The scars I’ve been left with are deep and I wonder sometimes if I’ll ever truly heal. I’m in the process of writing a book about it, called ‘Jeans and a white T-shirt,’ which hopefully will help me let go of some of the pain.
A friend of mine knew G quite well from church and showed me his photo on Facebook, suggesting that we’d be ‘perfect’ together. I wasn’t convinced but when I met him in the flesh, I was totally captivated by him. He was tall, with kind eyes and a gorgeous smile. His shyness was really sweet and his sincerity was really attractive. For the first time in a long time, I felt butterflies and I tried to make sure that I could be wherever he was (not in a stalker-ish way!). We were friends, but unfortunately, that’s all it ever was. Because he was such a genuine person, he had a huge queue of girls waiting for their chance with him, although he seemed totally oblivious to them and I never saw him date anyone. I did open up to him about my feelings once, but he very sweetly turned me down in his own kind way. I think I felt like he thought I wasn’t good enough for him; he was a dedicated Christian, and there I was, a divorced woman with two children - what chance did I have?
This started as a friendship and although it wasn’t really a serious relationship, I think the lessons it taught me and the feelings it left me with are important. We’d met at church and he was a few years younger than me. Not my type at all, but as time went on, we became closer. The thing here was the reaction of his parents. Before A and I became friendly, they had loved me and welcomed me into the church. They’d given advice and been people I respected. But as soon as they realised I was dating their son, I suddenly became some kind of devil-woman who’d seduced their son and led him astray! Rumours began stirring that I’d only been going to church to find a husband and a father for my kids - which was absolutely not true. I felt like damaged goods.
I met C during a dabble on a dating website. Full of Irish charm, we hit it off straight away. He was funny and cheeky and said all the right things. A few months into the relationship, we went to Liverpool where a lot of his family lived, and he introduced me to them. I remember feeling like a princess that weekend - he’d booked us a gorgeous hotel and seemed proud to have me with him at his family gathering. He had a heart-shaped padlock engraved with our names and the date and he took me to Albert Dock to attach it to the railings. We got back to Birmingham and guess what? I didn’t hear from him for 3 weeks. He literally disappeared off the face of the Earth. No calls, no messages. Nothing. I was so confused and worried that something terrible had happened to him. Then, out of the blue, he messaged, asking if he could take me out to explain. We sat down in a restaurant and he told me that his ex-girlfriend - the mother of his two-year old son - was due to give birth any day soon. I felt sick. And so stupid. He’d paraded me around his family who had all known that he was about to become a father again and I’d been totally oblivious. When I asked him why he hadn’t just told me at the start, he said ‘I didn’t know how to say it.’ I left the restaurant before the food arrived (which, if you know me, is not something I’d do lightly!). He’s living in Ireland now with his partner and their three kids.
We met at a friend’s wedding - he’d actually arrived with another woman but had told her to leave because she was miserable… yep, another ignored red flag. He wasn’t my usual type but he made me laugh and seemed like a normal bloke, although he did have his ex living in his house while he lived with his parents’ (sound familiar??). He moved in with me and we eventually bought a house together. Being with him seemed easy most of the time, we had a laugh, we went out a lot and on holidays together. The song I chose was his karaoke song. But fast-forward 3 years and the fun had disappeared, to the point that he’d barely look up from his phone to speak to me when I got home from work. Then one day, completely unexpectedly, he accused me of seeing someone else - which I didn’t understand because I was working so much, I barely had time to go to the toilet, let alone entertain another man. Anyway, he insisted he was leaving, before telling me I’d have to sell the house because I didn’t have the money to buy him out. It all got a bit nasty but God knows how, we worked out a compromise and I was able to keep mine and the kids’ home. Not long after the split, I found out he was engaged to a woman who we’d been friends with at the pub we went to and they’re now happily married.
Oh my goodness. What WAS I thinking? So C was my boss. He had a reputation of being a Lothario but when he made a play for me, I completely fell for him. The charm was like nothing I’d ever known, I mean, this man pursued me. Promises of marriage and ‘I’ll buy you a puppy’ were soon doused though, when, after spending the night with me, he decided to ignore me completely the following day at work before dumping me via text message. I was devastated to hear that he’d gone back to his ex. Just as I was coming to terms with it, the grand gestures began - cards, apologies, endless bunches of roses, declarations of love. Instead of telling him where to go, I played his game for months, a cycle of being together, being dumped, apologies and repeat. The end of the line came when I fell pregnant, despite being on the pill, and his reaction: ‘I can’t have a baby with YOU’ before swiftly dropping me off at the abortion clinic and taking me to McDonald’s drive-thru afterwards. He’s now married to someone I worked with and had once considered my friend.
And here we are. I’ve missed out a few, like D who used to put love notes through the door at my Mom’s house with tissues inside in case they made me cry; and A, who I hid from in the cupboard under the stairs at my Mom’s; G, who was Greek and I was infatuated with, who I found out was sleeping with a friend while he was seeing me; M who told me on our second date that he was going on holiday with his ex and would I mind waiting for him while he decided whether he still wanted to be with her; J who turned up to our first date off his face on coke and spent the night telling me about all the drugs he liked to do; and A who was sweet enough but made a really weird face when we had sex and I couldn’t look at him the same way afterwards…
I’m now married again, but things aren’t going too well at the moment. I haven’t written about that here, but I’m told that I want too much attention and that I’m ‘looking for a fairytale.’ I’m not sure if that’s true. I was always envious of people who met someone at 17 and stayed with them for the rest of their lives and although it was clear to me that I wasn’t going to get that, I think I still always wanted a happy home. Someone who loves me and accepts me and wants to make memories with me. Someone I can love. Is that a fairytale?
I’m learning that my choices have led me to a lot of unhappiness and heartbreak over the years. Ignoring red flags, staying too long and thinking I can ‘fix’ someone into being the person I need. So I have to take some responsibility for the heartbreak and I’m ok with that. I have to forgive myself for not realising when I had a good thing, and also for allowing myself to be treated badly. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but I do know that in the words of Shawn Mendes, it’ll be ok. Shawn Mendes - It'll Be Okay
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