Happy F*cking Christmas

Music: Happy Christmas (War is Over) - John Lennon

The plan for last Christmas was very different to the norm.  Unlike every other 25th December, I was only going spend the day with my boyfriend, Matt.

Just the two of us.

Together.

Alone.

Usually I go back home to my Mum and Dad’s on Christmas Day morning, but Matt was adamant that as his parents were overseas and we couldn’t see them, that it wasn’t fair to see mine on Christmas Day either.  His wonderful idea was for us to spend the day together, just the two of us.

And I hated him for that.

Now you might think this arrangement was nice, romantic and reasonable. I saw it as controlling.

It was just another way of Matt stamping his authority on my life and stomping all over what I wanted and how I felt.
Also, in a change from the norm, we stayed in on Christmas Eve, which was the first time I had stayed in on the night before Christmas since I was about eighteen. It was always a tradition for me to go out with my friends, but not this year. I can understand that this makes me look like a complete doormat, and yes you would be right, but that’s what years of Matt wearing me down had done to me.

So it was Christmas Eve and Matt and I were staying in, drinking wine and watching the television. Rock and roll. During an advert break, Matt put his glass down on the coffee table and turned to face me.

“So are we going to start seriously looking for a house together in the New Year?” he asked with his usual steadiness.

Oh no. Not this conversation again.

“Er, maybe,” I replied as half-heartedly as I could.

I had been side-stepping this issue for months.  Due to the way I felt about Matt I didn't want to sell my house so we could buy a place together.  My dithering on the subject had finally taken its toll.

“What does ‘maybe’ mean?” Matt asked more aggressively. “It’s always ‘maybe’ or ‘in a few months’ with you. Do you actually want to buy a house with me?”

I couldn’t say yes as it would have been such a big fat lie. I sat there for a few seconds, staring at the carpet, before I found the courage to look at him.

“No. No I don’t want to buy a house with you,” I said quietly.

I couldn’t stop myself and everything came spilling out along with gallons of tears.

“I’m really sorry, but I can’t,” I sobbed. “I don’t feel the same about you anymore. I’ve not felt the same about you for months.”

The tears rolled down my face, and all the while Matt just sat there, calmly staring at his wine glass on the table with an almost icy detachment. I think he must have been letting everything sink in. After all, even though I'd tried to tell him a thousand times, he didn’t realise anything was wrong.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you about it for months,” I continued as I wiped the saltwater from my face, “But every time I tried you just brushed me aside and didn’t listen to me.”

“Like when?” Matt replied angrily. “Not once have you EVER tried to talk to me about this. And why didn’t you tell me sooner? You said you’ve felt like this for months and you only tell me now? Well, happy f*cking Christmas!” he shouted angrily as he threw a cushion against the wall.

He was always good for a bit of dramatic effect, although at least he only chucked soft furnishings around.

“I couldn’t tell you about my feelings back then as I didn’t know how I felt.” I continued. “You always seemed to convince me that it was all in my head, when it wasn’t. I can’t carry on. I can’t buy a house with you. I don’t want to sell my house....” my voice trailed off.

Matt was upset and very, very angry.

I decided not to mention Scott, as he was a recent distraction and I knew it would crush Matt. My feelings towards Matt had changed long before my flirtation with Scott began so I didn’t want to bring this up and cloud the water.

Despite that we still had plenty to talk about, and we stayed up until the early hours. Matt drank bottle after bottle of Prosecco which we’d bought for Christmas Day, whilst I just sipped on glasses of water. I needed a clear head.

We slept in separate beds that night.

The Ex-Files

Music: Heartbreak - Magistrates

I know I've started dating now but I think it's time for me to get something off my chest. 

Before I split up with my now ex-boyfriend I was a bit naughty.

I guess you could say I had a bit of a rebound before I actually split up with him.

Well kind of... It’s halfway between that and the push I needed to realise that the relationship was over.

Yeah I know, I'm a terrible person, but as with most things in life - it was complicated.

I’m not proud about it but the feelings I had were something that I hadn’t felt in a long time, and they jolted me to do something I’d been putting off for months: end it with my boyfriend and leave me where you found me in my first post: Tragically fantasising about rugby players.

Matt is my latest ex and we were together for two and a half years before we finally split up. I don’t want to go into too much detail about the ins and outs of our relationship as unlike the random dates I did care for him. 

However the big problem we had was that he was a complete and utter arsehole.

Well, maybe that’s a bit harsh...

As our relationship progressed it turned out that his opinion was the only one that mattered.  Great eh?  The foundations of a happy and healthy relationship, right there...  I tried to talk to him on several occasions about how I felt and how things weren’t right, but it started to emerge that if he thought there wasn’t a problem then there wasn’t a problem. I would be patted on the head and brushed off to go quietly mad, wondering how he managed to manipulate me so easily.

Of course, that was after I’d stood behind his back, furiously flicking him with the V's.

Quite often if we were out with other people and I made a statement, Matt would step in with the line:

“No dear, that’s not right.”

It was a proverbial patronising pat on the head. There, there, run along and stop being such a silly girl.

Cock.

I kept hoping that my feelings for him would just click back into place and I would feel like I did for the first year of our relationship, but it just didn’t happen and the months passed by.

I know what you're thinking, why did I put up with it?  Well the answer is, I let the relationship continue because Matt was an expert at manipulation.  By the end I felt like I was losing my identity and I didn't know what I thought about things anymore.  But he did it in a very subtle way, which made me question if he was messing with my head or not.

As I said, it was complicated.

If I hadn’t found the Christmas present that he’d bought for me then I don’t know if I’d have got the wakeup call which pushed me to call it a day...

I knew that Matt had bought my Christmas present as he smugly announced it one day in early December while we were having lunch. Now I’m not the best at surprises, and if someone tells me that there’s a present for me hidden somewhere in the house then it's guaranteed I’ll turn the place upside down until I find it.

So I waited for him to go out and then I accidentally ransacked his room.

I was hoping that he’d paid attention to the jewellery catalogue I’d left open on the coffee table and he’d take the hint and have a look. I’d circled some bracelets and necklaces and written “I really love this one” in a subtle effort to guide his purchase.
 
After about half an hour of rummaging around in his bedroom (and carefully placing everything back exactly as I found it) I stumbled across the beautifully gift wrapped present stuffed at the back of his sock drawer.

He had definitely bought me some jewellery as I recognised the wrapping paper they use in the shop.  The present was wrapped in a small box about 10cm x 10cm and about 4cm deep. I studied it for a few seconds to try and work out what he could have bought me based on what I’d hinted at, and then I gave the box a shake.

Something inside knocked against the wall of the box. Odd.

I shook it again. Same thing.

I couldn’t think what it could be.

Was it a box within a box?

Oh f*ck. It sounded like a smaller box within this box.

Shit.

The only box smaller than this is a ring box.

Oh my God.

Had he bought me a ring?

Shit.

Please God don’t let it be an engagement ring.

Oh shit shit shit.

At that moment my heart sunk to the floor. 

Matt proposing to me on Christmas Day was the worst thing that I could possibly imagine happening to me.

I sat on the bed holding the perfectly wrapped Christmas present in my hands. I looked at the dainty snowflakes on the wrapping paper and its pretty gold ribbon with a massive lump in my throat.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What was I going to do?

I didn’t want to marry Matt. I didn’t want to pledge my heart and soul to such a pompous wanker.

It had been going on for months. Matt wanted us to buy a house together, but because of the way I felt I didn’t want to go down that route at all. I owned my home so I would have to sell, whilst Matt was renting so it was easy for him. I would have all the risk and I just couldn’t see the reward. I had been putting off house hunting for months but now with the prospect of him getting down on bended knee I knew I couldn’t take it anymore.

I put the present back in the gift bag, covered it with socks and closed the drawer.

Then I drank a whole bottle of wine and cried.

(To be continued)