There was never a man standing by my side to hold my hand or look after me. Even now I make it clear that is neither what I expect or even want from a relationship. I've never been anybody's little princess. I could never be. The thought of someone looking after me and doting on me and treating me 'like a princess' feels so wrong. It feels WRONG?!
I want to be an equal. I want to split the bill for dinner. I don't want to feel owned or controlled in any way. I want to know that he isn't weak and needy. Because however weak and needy I am, I will never, ever display that side to him.
And that's where it goes wrong. Sure Gareth knows I have issues with food and how I look (note: 'issues' not bulimia). But the girl he has hung out with for the last 6 months is also outspoken, bold, strong, fun-loving, tough, independent and takes no shit.
Sound like me?
Or sound like my favourite role play?
Damn the stage. Why can't I get down off it.
He thinks I'm the type of girl who will go out and have a bit of fun and not give a damn about the consequences. He thinks I'm the type of girl that HE can have a bit of fun with. Cos I'm THAT type of girl.
And I'll hold my hands up. It's totally my fault he thinks that. Because that's the role I play.
And the award for best actress goes to...
Why do I act? Cos I'm the opposite: fragile, lonely, frightened, bruised and hurting. And oh my god, how desperately I don't ever want a man to see that. I don't ever want a man to know that he can hurt me so easily. I want him to know that when he leaves I won't give a shit because I've got it all sorted on my own. Men always leave.
I like Gareth because I know he'd leave. He'd cheat and lie and ultimately leave. Successfully fulfilling my prohecy. My therapist had said that's why I chose them.
Even that stupid boy Joe. I tried to do the right thing and date the straight, boring good boy. And he fucking left me anyway. Fucked off on a tour of South America for 4 months while my brain and body were breaking down. Ok, I could have kept up the pretence if I'd wanted to and stayed with him for this time. But almost as soon as he'd got on the plane the love had been completely drained. He wasn't my boyfriend, he was a stranger, sending me sporadic whatsapp messages. A stranger, indifferently typing: 'I miss you' or 'I love you'. When I broke it off he didn't fight back. He just said, "I suppose it's for the best right?" He didn't want to fight for me.
He let me walk away and didn't look back.
Gareth gets back from Barcelona today. I had set myself a challenge of not mesaging him. Unfortunately I broke. And he hasn't replied (granted he probably doesn't have wifi for whatsapp). But still it was enough to make me spiral. Yesterday was a three time binge and vom. Sneaking off to the corner shops to buy cake and stuff it into my face before I came back. Purge, purge, purge. Purging myself of all the pain - no, of all the numbness, of all the sickness. I've also been exercising like crazy - obviously - since Gareth and I both both work out in the bank gym together. I want to be the super hot girl with the abs in the crop top and tiny shorts.
Yes. Just another stage.