I was 16 years young when I first started dating ex. He was a couple of years older than me, and I wasn't really sure why he wanted to talk to a girl like me if I was honest. But never the less, I lapped up the attention, and lets face it, I was getting no where with boys my own age. We were working together a few times, and suddenly, a problem at work threw us together working on something. Truth be told, I didn't see him as a 'potential' date to begin with. In fact, if you had of said to me that in years time, I'd be writing about my time spent as his girlfriend, I would have laughed. Still, we exchanged numbers and began chatting.
A week or two passed and we went on our first date. I had never felt butterflies like it. I went out, brought a new outfit, new make-up and excitedly got ready. He arrived at my door, flowers in hand. A true romantic. The date went great, we had an almost instant attraction, and at the end of the night, we kissed. My first proper kiss, and one, I will never forget.
It wasn't long before we were in a relationship. And I mean, after only 2 weeks of talking. We'd known each other for years, so to us, this didn't seem to quick. I wonder if that's made the connection so much better, doing the whole friends thing first.
Fast forward through the nearly 5 years we had together. We went on lovely weekends away, dates, dinners.I honestly thought that I'd found the one.
However, life has a funny way of throwing curves at you. About 2 years into our relationship, i noticed things weren't quite right, but i put them into the back of my mind. Carried on as normal, we went on to get our own place, started planning our future. But...deep down, I wasn't happy. After moving in together, I received some messages from girls telling they'd been sleeping with my boyfriend. And like a fool, I forgave. But that spelled the end. Even if I didn't know it.
We carried on for another 2 years. But i knew it wasn't working. Once the trust had gone in our relationship, I tried my hardest to carry on as normal. But I just couldn't. My anxiety and depression was becoming more and more apparent, and I was losing myself and who I truly was. I stopped going out, put on weight, and never really saw my family and friends.
After a few months shy of 5 years, we broke up. The problems had been mounting for a while, I was becoming more and more paranoid that he was cheating on me. I was out and about one day, and I got a text. A bloody text. And like that it was over. He simply put, 'You don't make me happy anymore'. I was in the middle of lunch with a friend, I excused myself from the table and went to the bathroom, and rung him. I cried and I mean sobbed down the phone. How could he end it like this, this isnt real. My friend came and found me and I showed her the text. She simply said 'Of course it's not over, it's you two'. But she took me back home, and I walked into our home. He was there, laying on the sofa. He had been crying too. I couldn't get my words out. I did the only thing I knew, went and laid next to him, and we cuddled and fell asleep. Strange I know, but this was the last time we ever did this, and it was a nice release.
I woke up, he was still fast asleep. My head was hurting from all the crying, I didn't know what to do, so I took my car keys and went for a drive. I phoned my brother, cried to him, then not long after, my mum phoned. Nothing stays secret for long! I simply said 'It's over, I'm moving back home'. There, I'd said it. And it broke my heart. I then received a text from him. "Where are you?" I ignored. 10 minutes later. "Are you okay?" These continued. I realised, I can't avoid it forever, so I went home.
The silence was awkward. We cried as we talked. Promised that we would both always try and be friends. That we would discuss in a few weeks, maybe just take a break. But deep down, I knew that this was it. I packed a bag, gave him one last kiss, and drove to my friends house. She straightened me out, and we went to the pub for a few drinks. Bad idea.
A few weeks passed, not a lot had changed. Except my fears and doubts were true. He had been cheating. In fact, he'd already invited a girl back to our home the night I moved out. There was no going back from that. It hurt like hell. But I knew I needed to break away.
I moved back home, changed my job, and started again. I took a few months to myself, put myself first for a while and then got myself back into the dating world. Something I'd never really done before! It was a scary prospect. But I guess that leads me to present day, and where I am now.....
