This next blog chronicles the years between 2004 and 2005 when I was 19 and had just been dumped by the love of my life. Once again, I reiterate that I’m not looking for sympathy – this is for me to analyse and dissect, although if you do have advice or ideas, please comment, facebook or Tweet me (@frustratedpoet). To paraphrase my phrase of the month… “dating girls… you’re doing it wrong!”
Over the next year or so (the year I was 19-20), I had a lot of fun, but not much luck! I lapdogged girls around nightclubs (namely G-Bar in Liverpool), and pined after girls in my halls of residence. As you can imagine, a bunch of hormonal 18-23 year olds was as fun as it sounds, there were squabbles and arguments, general bitchiness, bordering alcoholism and one trip to A&E (that’s the Emergency Room for any American readers).
I made several stupid mistakes and found myself constantly asking “Why?”
“Why didn’t that girl fancy me?”
“Why did that girl never call me back?”
“Why did nobody reply to my GaydarGirls ad?”
(the latter is probably a good thing, there are some absolute weirdoes on there; me included!)
And, with the regularity of the Ormskirk to Liverpool train, somebody, every day would say “as soon as you stop looking, you’ll find somebody!” hands up (or comment), if you’ve ever heard somebody say this to you. It’s usually a “happily married” or a “recently loved up” although sometimes rarely a “happily single”. And I’d cry back “I’m not looking, I never look”, which was, of course, bullshit. True I wasn’t looking for love, relationships or any sort of extended happiness, no – I was looking for what my landlord calls “overnight guests”! A bit of fun. My third year, although fun was also fraught with difficulties. I had a severe hernia which required a stay in hospital, my depression took a new turn and led me to almost fail my degree, and I was spending money as though my wallet had a tap on it.
I’d be out in Liverpool three or four times a week at the new girl’s bar (now closed) Babystorm. Great fun! It was open late late late, but it was always dead dead dead! I spent some nights sleeping on sofas and floors, and never in bed with girls, it was a very lonely time. I couldn’t get a girl to save my life, and I was used on several occasions as a bed for the night. I kissed a LOT of frogs. When I wasn’t in Liverpool, I was in the college bar, drinking until closing. I was drinking every day. Not unusual for a student you may think, but I was definitely past that point. I was missing lectures, sleeping late and drinking alone.
My final act as a third year student was a disastrous night after the Graduation Ball with somebody who was wholly unsuitable, not very attractive, and who then spread the rumour that I’d seduced her and she was powerless to stop me! What a way to go. I’d like to say I was hammered, but I wasn’t, I was just lonely, and scared about what the hell I was going to do when I left Edge Hill.
After an unsuccessful six months attempting to secure a job in Liverpool, living in the ideal gorgeous apartment with a view of the Mersey from my bedroom, I moved back in with my parents and found a horrid little job in the public sector. I’d met a girl at Manchester Pride that year and we dated for a couple of months. This is the next notable exception to the "girls always dump me" idea. She was borderline alcoholic and I ended it with her after realising two things,
1) I couldn’t change her
2) She was always going to love the ale more than me.
At the same time, an old friend came back on the scene (whom I’d secretly pined for a while back). But instead of asking her out, or giving her any impression that I was interested in her, I slept with her best friend and acted like a dick (there was wine involved!). The best friend is a girl who irritated me no end by saying that she slept with people 3 times, but only slept with me twice! (if you’re reading this, tough – I’m over it now and it make a funny story!) This was about a year and a half after Katy and I went our separate ways and just after this, living at home became so unbearable after three full years away, that I met and moved in with a girl.
Within a month of moving in together, she’d bought me a puppy. She worked a measly 10 hours per week to my 37 hours, and yet never cooked, cleaned or walked the dog. I brought home the bacon, and cooked it too! I’d work all day while she spent most of her time playing computer games. Apart from this, there was a vile sister to contend with, and the scourge of lesbian bed death! We went away on holiday to Turkey, and it was there that I discovered that she had cheated on me with one of my best mates. I still consider her my best mate because everyone gets a free pass in my book – particularly as she’d looked after me when Katy dumped me! After the holiday, we tried to get back to the place we were at in the beginning. Unfortunately, that was a place in which we didn't know anything about each other, and I think that is why we worked! We attended Manchester Pride together that year, staying at the Premiere Inn at the GMex and I barely saw her. You could see it ending from a mile away, well at least everybody else could.
You may be surprised to hear that she dumped me! I still suspect that it was because she met another girl who worked at the end of our street in McDonalds and who had a car. A girl she started sleeping with four days after we split up whilst I was still living in the house. The grief broke me, I felt so stupid. I took time off work, cried for weeks and made myself quite ill. My lovely puppy who had been so cute was now a whining, destructive beast who, inevitably, pissed my parents off so much that they wanted me to get rid of him! (Austin is an absolute pleasure now – the real love of my life and worth ten of any girl I’ve ever dated!) I remained single for twelve months and I pretended to be happy.
