Rage

The worst part about my affair with Matt, was how it made me feel about myself. Indeed, Rosemary was right, when she said “he couldn’t have gotten to another girl who had higher self esteem.”

Who in the correct (as socially defined) state of mind would be with a married guy? One who’d tell her how he fucked his wife? One who’d moralise her for drinking because she needed to block out how he fucked his wife? One who’d still at the end of it all, just walk away, without saying so much as a sorry, but blatantly telling her “you have to wake up?” What do you mean? From my worthless drunken existence? Nothing. I never thought a problem, at least until I met you. Because from then, getting drunk started serving a purpose. I WANTED my brain cells to be killed.

No Matt, I did not screw Daryl the way you claim I did. But what does it matter, because you chose to believe him. So do you feel better now? IS IT THEN RIGHT, THAT YOU DUMPED ME?

And why? Why did you betray my trust by telling him what I confided in you?

And what’s my bloody problem? How can I go through the past ¾ weeks berating myself on “what did I do wrong?” and thinking “I still love him so”, when long ago you decided fun was fun and it was time to go? Wham Bam goodbye M’dm. Go discuss with your pilot friends whether I was a good fuck. Was I loud in bed? Did I turn you ALL on?

Fuck you fuck you fuck you. Do you know what you have done to me? WHY? There are many other girls out there who deserve it. Me, I've had enough shit as it is. Really.

I’m a depressed girl. You know that. You should have known not to fool around with girls like us. Because unlike girls like Peggy who’ll still buy your favorite mags from Japan, we can’t cope with the rage in us.

We tend to either destroy OURSELVES, if not you.

Help

I can’t get Matt out of my head and it’s driving me crazy. This is so hard. Fighting the constant urge to call him. Trying to block out the aching vacuum inside me. Telling myself I cannot crumble.

What Is He Thinking?

I miss Matt so much. But I know I should not see him or talk to him. Message him or call him. Deceive myself and think that he still cares. Although god knows how much I want him to still be who I thought, and perhaps still think, he was.

What is he thinking now? Is he as miserable as me? Does he miss me? What is he doing? Who is he doing it with? These are the thoughts that plague me when I can't sleep, can't eat, oversleep and overeat.

What I want to hear is :"The only reason he hasn't called you is because his debilitating sadness has left him lying on the floor of his apartment in a pizza box full of tears." "The only activity he's been able to manage is feverishly plan a way to win your heart back." "He may never smile or laugh again." Yes, in a perfect world, Matt should be tormenting himself, wondering how he could have made such a mistake and hurt me so, and remembering all the good times we had together.

But NO. Matt had a huge headstart on the emotional healing when he dumped me. However long he had entertained ending our relationship was how long he's been weaning himself off me. If I know him well enough, life is probably going on per normal for him and his family. Spending time with Wifey. Coaching Eunice. Taking them out to gatherings with friends.

The fact of the matter is that once he got over the initial guilt, he probably felt relief. "He feels bad about hurting your feelings, he misses you sometimes and even thinks of calling, but ultimately he is relieved that it's over."

This is the reality I live with each and everyday since he left. It's a bitter pill to swallow.

The End

Dear Matt,

This past two weeks, I have been the saddest girl in the world. I have been consumed with despair, confusion and anger - truly devastated. I’ve cried into glass after glass of pinot noir. I’ve smoked packs of cigarettes. I’ve lost my appetite. I’ve binged to forget and then purged to NOT WANT. I’ve slept too much. I’ve not slept. I’ve watched sad movies. I’ve sang sad songs. I’ve flirted with other men. I’ve distracted myself. I’ve obsessed. I’ve rebounded. I’ve tired out my friends who truly cared about me.

I never used to be this way. I used to be able to walk away and not care. You, Matt, were my kryptonite. And like Superman, I was powerless in your wake.

But you see, just like in the movies, Superman has to figure out a way to overcome kryptonite. Thankfully, I have slowly but surely learnt to overcome you. It's excruiatingly difficult, but it gets easier each day.

I knew right from the beginning that our relationship was never meant to be. And now, I know that I never really did have you. Not in the way Wifey has you. No. I was and will always just be another girl who came into your life, and then went out of your life. There was a time I thought I could have stayed with you as the other woman forever. I thought we had something special, our shared interests and thoughts.

I guess I thought wrong. No doubt some part of it must have been real. But not real enough, I suppose, for you to stay. I wish you had not reached out to me in the first place. I wish I did not meet you. In a year's time, you may not even remember who I was.

I'm letting go now.

It’s wildly empowering. The best worst news is that we have broken up. At least there’s no more dreading when and if I’m going to see you a particular night, how bad I’m going to feel, and the agony when my mind goes wild thinking about you and her. I'm at peace now - no more agonizing, no more drama. It’s acknowledging that “Even with all the mayonnaise in the world, you can’t make chicken salad out of chicken shit.”

Yes, it’s called a break-up because it’s broken. And from this adversity, I trust I will learn and become a stronger person. Thanks for everything you've done for me. I know you cared.

Love, Lizzie

Slut

I’m beginning to believe that I am just a psychotic slut who sleeps around. Like Daryl said I was. Am I? I never thought I was, until I became this monster.

So I’ve been drinking a lot. Purging a lot. Sleeping around. Being the resident slut. And strangely, being comforted by the pain, because I can tell myself that I found a reason why Matt left me.

I don’t know what I want from Matt anymore. Him to hate me? Him to love me? Him to miss me, when I’m no longer around? Or maybe, just him to regret having hurt me like this and saying SORRY just one time.

Happy 4 Month Anniversary

I wish WE could have happened a while longer.

Last Contact?

Tonight, after one too many McCormick oranges I figured I would message Matt. He’s in New York now. With his number committed to memory (most unfortunately), I drunk messaged him: “I think it’s sad because I still miss you, even though I’m not allowed to.”

He replied a while later: “And I’m the bastard..”, referring to my last blog post.

Dammit you’re still screwing my mind, even now. I just wanted an apology, DAMMIT.

My message to him has made it worse. Taken me further away from the place I want to be – a place dignified and cool.

“Yes” I replied. “You ARE the Bastard, because you left me.” And I passed out, fully clothed, the last shreds of my dignity still intact.

Sad Love Songs

I stopped taking the pill today. There's no point, since Matt doesn't want me anymore.

After work, I meet my ex colleague Wendy for drinks at Intro Bar. We have a couple of wines before we head for Balaclava, where Michelle was waiting for me. She was there with her bosses and their friends, mostly middle-aged men with wives waiting for them at home and too much cash to spend on other women. Michelle is a friend of mine who was also seeing a married guy. A few days ago, she told me tearfully that he had just gone missing on her. One day they were fine and the next, she could not get in touch with him at all. I didn't know what to say.

Misery loves company. Michelle, Wendy and I finish our drinks at Balaclava and adjourn to KBox with the guys. One of them is the owner of KBox. Being the karaoke-phobic I am, I am hardly impresed. Normally, I'd not step into KBox unless I absolutely have to. But tonight, I need (more) free booze. I need to numb myself.

Don't Go Baby

Matt did not call me the whole weekend. I had messaged him incessantly on Friday night, telling him how much I loved and missed him. How I needed him to be with me. How he made me want to be a better person. How I'd quit my parties and smoking for him. How I couldn't live without him. All my messages went answered. Please don't leave me Baby.

When I call him on Saturday and Sunday, he answers the phone but hangs up after saying "I'm driving." I force myself not to message or call him after that, in case he starts thinking me as a nuisance. I'll be good, I promise. But today at work, I couldn't hold back and I messaged him "I'm afraid if this goes on we'll lose what we have and become friends." He replied: "I think that's for the best Baby."

I put my phone down and ran for the toliet. I hide there, sobbing my heart out.

The Answer

I take the afternoon off to meet Matt today and he suggests that we meet me directly at Marina Square. I cannot help but think about how in the past, he would pick me up from home and he would come up to my place. It kills me, how he’s keeping a distance from me. Seeing Matt again makes me realize how much I love him. It’s beyond reason, all I want is for him to take me into his arms. But he remains aloof.

I ask him what's wrong, why things are so different now. He did not reply me. Instead, he asked me "Can we just be good friends? I don't know if we should still be together."

This cannot be happening. I bite my lip and try hard not to show my devastation. I give him a smile. "No, I think it'll be hard for me to be friends with you. You're not sure about it, I don't know what to do either, so let's just see how it goes ok?"

"Ok" he says. After coffee, he leaves to meet Wifey to view a flat (they're moving house). I meet my friends. Another drunken night.

Please Tell Me

Can someone please tell me what's going on before I lose my mind?