My Bloggy Wog

Today, in the midst of my current relationship fuckery and the ‘big decision’ - To stay or to leave? - I decided to find a list I wrote in 2006. This list detailed what I wanted in a partner. Every girl writes this list at one point in their lives - I assume.       

I hoped that on finding my list I would gain clarity from this emotional blockage I have and my disconnection with “real life”. I thought that in finding my list - which was written with my head and not my heart - I could find an uncomplicated and balanced view and maybe, a definitive answer. 

I dug out my most recent Diary, dating from around the time I met my boyfriend AKA ‘X’.

I fucking LOVED this Diary. I found it in a Charity Shop and it symbolised my personal studies at the time. For 5 years I had immersed myself in philosophizing; partly as a bi-product of an old relationship with yet another boyfriend I was insanely besotted with. I trailed the streets of London’s 2nd Hand book shops seeking the Greek Greats, Nietzsche and Kant and later - through my need for a Degree Research Topic - Shamanism and all the minions of branches that spout from it.

For a while, I developed a passion for the Occult and obtained some unusual and rare books by Arthur Waite, Crowley and Gardner. 

I divulge. 

My prime interest settled upon Shamanism. I researched Shamanism involuntarily for 2 years and have voluntarily researched it since. This Diary reminded my of the great World Tree. 

My World Tree. 

I’m a girl who sees a Diary as a new possibility. I pour myself into my Diary and a few months later, the novelty wears off. I have at least ten half-finished Diaries. 

When I scoured through, The World Tree Diary didn’t have the list.  

Instead, it contained entries which despite their age, still tighten my throat on their reading. The words instantly connect me to the pain I felt at the the start of my relationship my X. Back then, I had a nervous breakdown. X was the catalyst but not the cause. 

I have never felt such sadness as I felt at the time of writing those entires. 

Extracts from the start of my current relationship with ‘X’ AKA “initial start-of-the-relationship-fuckery”. 

*****

June 15th 2007

I’ve been seeing X over the last few weeks and when we’re together, it’s great. When we we’re apart, I’m in knots. He has never had a girlfriend and I am intense and insecure. Physically, we are so attuned and this has drawn me in emotionally - even though I am treading so thinly as to not scare him off. I definitely want more then he can give and after our phone call today - where I told him I felt he was giving me “hot and cold” treatment which I couldn’t understand - I asked him why he didn’t make more of an effort to stay in touch with me. He said he wanted to “apply the breaks” and become a “friend”….. 

I have a good life; friends, house, job and still shape everything around men. I have to change this for my own future happiness. 

June 17th 2007

I went out to meet X and from the moment we looked at each other it was clear it wasn’t over. When we got back to my place, it was intensely passionate: in the bedroom it got kinky - with him pulling me onto his face for oral sex. He smacked my arse and I liked it…..

I no longer want to be the kind of person who “controls” my relationships and keeps my men in my ‘pocket’. 

June 21st 2007

X told me he didn’t want to commit. He said, “what if I meet someone amazing”. 

I’m just a girl who likes his company and wants to meet when we plan to. He has cancelled our meeting up 5 nights in a row. Why is this too intense and heavy? 

I’m going to walk my dogs and if tears come, I’ll let them. 

June 28th 2007

One thing I’m doing, which I shouldn’t - but don’t feel bad about - is telling some obscene lies. Mostly to X but also to Dan (friend). I told Dan today that I’m recording an album in London and have a record deal. Bollocks - but I reckon I’ll get there. 

Why doesn’t X want me?

August 3rd 2007

I bought a new dress and made a choker - it took 4 hours to sew but it is beautiful and will go with my dress. X and I are going out for dinner tonight. I hope he doesn’t cancel again…

He cancelled.

I am crying as I write this. I’m wetting the page. I’m wearing my new dress and necklace and he fucking cancelled. 

November 8th 2007

My Dad died. It’s the Funeral tomorrow. 

My family hate me because I came clean about Dad having an affair. X is coming to the Funeral with me - thank God. I don’t think I can make a drive of 6 hours without someone there. Let alone the Funeral. 

November 9th 2007

X didn’t come to the Funeral. I’m writing this sat in my Hotel room, alone. My family fucking hate me. I was my Fathers next of Kin and they are making me feel like I meant nothing to him; because in reality, they weren’t there for him when he needed them. What saddens me the most: I cried for X at the Funeral and not Dad.

November 14th 2007

I’ve been asked to plan a remembrance concert for Dad. X is going to come with me this time - he promised. I don’t think I could forgive him if he cancelled again.

November 20th 2007

It’s the eve of the Tribute to Dad - I’m driving up to Lincolnshire in the morning and guess what? X cancelled. 

Fucking arsehole.

*****

I also found an email from X, tucked in the Diary.  X wrote this at the end of the initial start-of-the-relationship-fuckery. Post this era - when I had finally taken as much as I could handle - I dumped his arse. He later groveled and begged for another chance and we started a “proper” relationship where I held the reins. 

Dear Emily.

I shall be as succinct as possible. First of all, I apologise unreservedly. You are undeniably a very talented and beautiful individual. You’re smart, witty, interesting and sexy. I enjoyed your company and appreciated your understanding and discretion regarding my patent lack of experience. 

I have behaved like an ill mannered imbecile. I was unreliable, evasive and prone to bipolar bouts of insecurity. Once again I am sincerely sorry and would like to remain a friend of yours despite my failings. 

If you don’t want to keep in touch, I understand. 

Lots of love, X.

P.S. I don’t mind if you regale tales of my poor performances in the bedroom.

I like many fellow sufferers are not ashamed of impotence, premature ejaculation and size worries.

*****

I fucking love that email. 

*****

X wonders why I can never forget the past. 

I can’t forget how he treated me at the start of our relationship and I can’t forget how he didn’t come to my Fathers Funeral or to the Remembrance Concert. 

I put up with X’s shit at the start because deep down I “knew” he was special and something great could happen between us.  

At times, I think I can live with X for the rest of my life. 

We have the ease of something good. 

Then I remember how sad I felt at the Funeral. How his non-attendance took away my grief for my Father and instead, how I grieved X for not being there by my side. 

I fight with X. I am angry with him all the time. 

I don’t want to fuck him because I am angry with him. 

I masturbate 1 or 2 times a day - always in secret - so X doesn’t find out.

He doesn’t deserve to be fucked.

Why the FUCK don’t I trust my own feelings? Why am I such a fucking thinker? Why can’t I just break free from this and cure myself? 

*****

I NEED to find that list.