This seems like an impossible task; to summise the last two years of your life in to a piece of prose, so eloquent and perfect you are convinced that the dramatis personae will jump from the text and begin perfoming for you on your desk. This is my aim, although the subject(s) I am about to discuss are not lighthearted or funny, I will try and deal with them in this fashion, because I am not depressed, nor am I bitter. I just want to draw a line under everything I have experienced in the last two years.
“Two years. That’s a long ass time. People fall in love in that amount of time. People lose touch in that amount of time. Old friendships are rekindled. New friendships are forged. Two years. Fuck.”
So, to the beginning. In the beginning there was nothing, and then there was light. In my case this light was a recording studio called Neon. We needed a new girl for reception. I’m not sexist; we could’ve had a dude, but that last one was a girl, so I was merely commenting on the status quo. Anyway, we hired a girl called Blank. Blank was cool, we all got on like a relative house on fire, sharing jokes and generally having a great time.
Chris was turning 21 in April 2008. We were going to Planet for his birthday.
Blank continued to work with us all, until she got a job temping somewhere for better pay, who can blame her? Money makes the world go around. And so, Blank became an actual friend who I hung out with and all of that jazz. I thought she was cool. She was a little insane, but then all of the best ones are.
The night of Chris’s birthday was a good one. There was a lot of alcohol. My enduring memory is dancing to Pendulum upstairs on the “metal” floor. At 3am. During the course of the night, which Blank has attended, I had been introduced to one of her friends; Blank. Truth be told I have no actual recollection of ever having met her on Chris’s birthday, but I still maintain(ed) to her that I remember.
A week or so later Blank came to Neon. It was a purely social call. She came to say hello and have a bit of a chat with me. I was nervous as all hell before she came down. I was meeting this girl for the first time. Technically I had met her before, but like I said, I didn’t remember. Anyway, she came to Neon, and we talked, and hit it off. From then on we pretty much spent every waking moment together.
It was mainly sexual to begin with. I would go over to her house, we’d do naughty things, then I’d go to work or wherever else I had to be. Like a lone vigilante with a boner. Fighting crime and fucking women. Or any Quentin Taratino film. This was great for me, and for her. Blank wasn’t the clingy type. But we still had to define whatever it was that we had. And so, one day, I asked her out. Via text message. Admittedly not the best start. But I did wine and dine this girl. I wasn’t a complete douche or anything. I cared about her loads. And once it was defined, I. Was. Exceptional. but that comes later.
We started officially dating on the 10th May. You see, I still remember all of this shit. Perhaps I secretly care? I know I still do. I don’t want to. But I do.
Things were going great. There was no pressure, we were enjoying all of the time we were spending together and we were having a great summer. Things were perfect.
“My brother gives the best advice in the world. Don’t get too wrapped up in this girl because she’s the only one who’s shown an interest lately. If only I’d listened to him…”
Blank had told me that her periods were irregular. And that she was on the pill. I had seen the packet around the house, and I had no cause to doubt her. So we had unprotected sex. If I could change one decision in my life, it would be my decision to have unprotected sex. Condoms are grim, they are, but my god I would rather that than all this heartache.
Having irregular periods means that I wasn’t particularly worried if she was late, or early. But one month, she was late. Really late. So late in fact that I bought a pregnancy test. Guess what.
There is literally nothing in your life that can prepare you for that moment. The moment the two little bars appear and you feel an absolutely crushing sense of abject terror. Like your own mortality displayed before your very eyes. The feelings I had on that day are something I never want to re-live. I want kids. I want positive pregnancy tests. I just wasn’t ready. We weren’t ready.
“We can sort this out.”
Of course I meant have a termination. In my mind there was no other course of action. We’d been together for such a minute amount of time. We barely knew one another. There were things in my fridge at home older than our relationship. I mean, Jesus, 8 weeks I think it was. 8 weeks. I’ve had poos that have lasted that long.
What I’m trying to convey is that it wasn’t very long at all.
Anyway, we went to the Doctor’s. Then the Hospital. Then the Women’s Clinic, which is a lovely way of saying Abortion Clinic. Then Counselling. It was all just a fucking blur.
From finding out, to the day I’ve all but blanked out in Leamington Spa, was around 8 or 9 weeks. I didn’t want kids then, nor do I want them now. I will at some point. That’s by-the-by. That day is impossible to sum up in words. Imagine driving a person that you sincerely care about, possibly even love, to a place where they are going to perform an operation that is contrary to their heart’s desire. A part of Blank wanted the termination. I did not force the decision on her. I was not threatening or evil. I was rational, which is not something I do well. I was reasoned and, to a point, emotionless. This collection of cells meant nothing to me at the time. It was a mistake. An Accident. Which is probably my first reaction, only amplified. I know that I certianly didn’t want kids then. And being such a new realtionship, I didn’t want kids with Blank, I wanted a chance to get to know her as a person.
Blank wanted to keep the pregnancy. Because I genuinely believe that terminations, abortions, whatever you call them, are essentially going against human nature. Her counsellor said that some part of her wanted the termination. Otherwise there was no way she would’ve gone through with it.
12th July 2008.
I will never ever forget that day. The tears. The pain. The anguish. Getting lost. Not knowing what to expect. The tears. I’ve said that one, but I cried a lot.
When we got home, my heart, like Blank’s, broke. I was not mourning the loss of a potential child. I was heartbroken from causing a person I care so deeply about, such heartache. You cannot imagine what it feels like to hate yourself for making someone else sad. For feeling responsible for their depressions and sadness. For feeling like it’s your fault that they’re sad and unable to cope.
Blank got counselling, and medication, and I continued to look after her. I literally gave her my all. I have tears in my eyes writing this. That period of my life was so difficult. I did the only thing I thought I could. I concentrated on making Blank feel better. I concentrated on helping her, and getting her ok.
I completely neglected myself. All of my friends kept telling me that I need to take care of myself, but I could not see that. I’m not saying that Blank had it easy. Or that she didn’t support me. Blank’s, like my journey, is still going on, but it was very very one sided. I looked after her with everything that I am. I told her I loved her. I comforted her. I helped her in any possible way that I could. I was fucking golden.
I’m not scared to admit that. I was absolutely amazing. In any other circumstance I would have been nominated for a fucking award. But this was a situation we both found ourselves in. And they don’t give out awards for that.
The next 14 months were happy. And sad. I won’t lie to you. I constantly doubted whether I loved her. Not as a person. I was just constantly seeking reassurance regarding my feelings for Blank. And she was not the type to say “I Love You” on a regular basis, so my doubts were amplified and exaggerated.
We had good times, but we were bound initally by sadness. And that was tragic and ultimately our downfall. I wanted to make everything right with Blank’s world. But I couldn’t do that. That hurt me a lot. But Blank was hurting too.
01/09/09.
Another date I won’t forget in a long time. Sat on Blank’s bed. I asked her if she wanted to break up. I’d asked her for a cuddle. And she’d started crying. We got talking and by the end of the night I was single. We were single. I said that I still wanted a life with her; kids, marriage, the whole nine. But looking back, I now know that I didn’t. I was just trying to retain control. I wanted to feel like I could control the variables of our relationship, because then, if things went wrong, I was to blame and I could fix them.
How fucked up is that?
I know, but that was my mindset. Everything was my fault. And it was my role to fix it, her, everything.
Blank got back with an ex-boyfriend, whom she had always portrayed as the devil. I got text messages saying I was perfect and that she was the one who fucked things up. But none of this matters. The only thing that matters is that I gave myself, so unconditionally to another human being, I was SO open, honest and loving, and in the end it meant nothing.
I’m not bitter. I don’t have anything to do with Blank currently (04/01/10) but that may change. She hasn’t changed my opinion of girls, or put me off kids. She’s just shown me that I need to be more guarded. I thank Blank for the truly happy times we shared together. I really do. And I want Blank to know that she hurt me more than anyone else I have ever been with. She could argue the same I imagine.
I’ve had counselling. The guilt has gone. The feeling of responsibility has gone. The constant nausea has gone. The anxiety has gone. Yet one thing remains; I still care.
I doubt I will ever stop caring about Blank. What we shared changed and marked us both emotionally and mentally. But I am working to overcome everything and deal with the last two years.
I have no doubts in my mind that I’m going to be ok. I sincerely hope Blank is ok. Everyone deserves to be happy. I just don’t want her in my life right now. Like I said, maybe one day.
This isn’t a hopeful story. It’s me writing about something that I failed to confront at the time. I’m pretty sure that had I dealt with my feelings at the time, my relationship with Blank would’ve been a lot shorter. I’m not trying to protect anyone’s feelings. I constantly considered Blank for too long. I’m not playing that game anymore.
I hated her. I was angry at her. I felt betrayed by her. I felt rejected by her, but ultimately, she is the one continuing to text and contact me. It is not the other way around. She is the one that has lost out. I’m fucking incredible. As a person, friend, lover. I’m really really good to have in your life, and now, Blank doesn’t have me in her life. This makes her sad, I know because she tells me. I’m the only person who truly understands her apparently. Well, I’m sorry, but don’t meet up with ex-boyfriends while we are still in a relationship.
Ok, that last part was bitter. But fuck it. I’ve been the consummate gentleman up until now.
Now it’s time for me.
Just like old times, only, better.
two thousand one hundred and thirty nine words.
