The night that changed it all…

To many being with the guy you were with from the age of 15, best friends with for a year before that and the only guy you’ve been with sounds something like a fairy-tale. My reality however is somewhat different…

A week before I turned 19, after nearly 4 years together it was over. One month before I went to University, I thought my world had come to an end. Like every teen relationship I assumed I would get over it because lets face it ‘I didn’t really love him, it isn’t real’. So there I was at University, smile on my face not holding on to it, I was so over it… Yet every time I came home, every time for nearly 3 years, Easter, Summer, Christmas, I undid all my moving on. We both said it was habit, it was just easy and comfortable. So every time I returned to Bournemouth downhearted and confused.

Christmas holidays 2013 however was different, I didn’t talk to him, we hadn’t text, he hadn’t made contact, he must have moved on too. I thought we had finally done it, broken the habit. Chin up, dress and make-up on (very rare for this to happen), off I went to my oldest childhood friends 21st birthday. Being sensible I was not going to drink and I would drive home. But the conversation was flowing, the Rum punch was good, it looked good, it smelt good. O my it really did taste so good…1…2…3…D..Ear me! In Henley and o so very merry, having a fantastic night with people I barely knew, I felt good. Realising I had nowhere to stay off I stumbled to my dads, making contact for the first time in years, o how proud he must be!

Morning came, still confused and still feeling the love from the rum the only thing I was clear about is I did not want to be there but I could not drive. The only other place in walking distance that I felt welcome was of course at the ex’s. Off I went, knowing Sunday morning meant football so I  was safe, I wouldn’t see him. I would wait out the hangover then head home. Spending time with his siblings who had known me for so long. Lunchtime came, the hangover dispersed, time to leave. Turning to the door, there he was, stood in the door, wearing his football kit (those arms… those legs.. YUM), a much better site than me. Me in my sisters joggers (half way up my ankles and far to tight on my bum and hips) and her boyfriends top I pinched from her wardrobe, last nights make up still round my eyes. I froze, it would just be rude to leave now, wouldn’t it?…

Driving home that evening, I took the pill. At least that’s something I don’t have to worry about…

Back to the uni slog feeling stupid, feeling rough, craving hot milk, my joker of a housemate telling me I’m pregnant (idiot boys)….

1 trip to the pharmacy, 2 hour race home, 3 hours silence, an awkward laughing fit (poor woman opposite in the waiting room was terrified) and a very stressful weekend ‘playing it cool’ with my family who came to Bournemouth and were stood in front of me when I got the blood results (great timing doc). Engaging in conversation while my brain was shouting WHAT THE HELL DO I DO!

5 weeks gone, I have to do the sensible thing and explore my options. I should be worrying about my dissertation and what job I am going to have after graduation, not this, not now, not with a guy I’m not with, this is not how it is meant to be…. is it?





O that rum!


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