I was young, naive and a blue pill (not even aware of red pill); this story takes place the best part of a decade ago. Read on for an overview of crazy.
We met when we were both 17. She was petite, relatively attractive and on the same wavelength as me. We worked together. Lesson 1: Don’t s~~~ where you eat. We hooked up and ended up jumping right into being exclusive. She was insatiable, I felt like a legend. I was that guy flaunting her on my arm like a trophy. She’d had a bad previous relationship and refused to let me pay for things as her ex had always thrown it in her face that she was a gold-digger. Back at the time I hated this, as a well conditioned beta I was brought up to believe it’s a man’s duty to spoil “his woman” – now I see it was a blessing.
Over time things got tense, often culminating in me apologising. I was in college, travelling abroad for my studies on occasion, and also holding down the same amount of work shifts as she was. The whole “you don’t make time for me” surfaced, despite the fact I barely had time to scratch my b~~~~, never mind lavish her with my undivided attention very often. I was grinding, trying to secure a good education and career prospects. She hated that she wasn’t my priority.
Fast forward to a year or so into our relations~~~. I bought her a car for Christmas despite not being able to afford my own. Lesson 2: Don’t encourage her freedom. She started going out all the time whilst I was at college, out with “friends” etc. and spending a lot of time with one male in particular. I voiced my observations and was verbally slapped into line. I was paranoid. I was jealous. She was innocent. It was all in my head. Yada yada.
A few months later we’re at a house party at her sister’s home. I cannot see her anywhere amidst the crowds, but her car is still outside. I eventually locate her; I walk in on her laying in bed with the lad I mentioned earlier, his shirt is off, his arm around her, and they’re just laying there talking and laughing. I am like “are you f~~~ing serious right now?” Of course, I was the bad guy still. Don’t ask how – the only answer is: because vagina
I am downstairs, f~~~ing furious but trying to keep a lid on it as there are a lot of mutual friends present. I don’t want to cause a scene, but here she comes, shoving me and screaming in my face that I need to f~~~ off out of her sisters house and that I’ve ruined everything. I am in the wrong for not trusting her. My paranoia is the problem, not the scenario described above. We’re over. She cannot deal with my jealousy. Riiiight. Anyhow, I totally lose my s~~~ whilst she is slapping me and punch my hand through her sisters kitchen door in a violent outburst. Her expression changes from anger, to fear, back to anger again very quickly.The lad is standing behind her acting all innocent and apologising for “how it must have looked”.
I disappear upstairs into the bathroom for some space so I can try to process everything that has just happened. This next part is f~~~ing mental so buckle up. In a moment of absolute insanity, I take a razor and hold it to my wrist waiting for her to come storming in – my intention to try and shock some kind of sense into her at the prospect of me cutting my wrist – to evoke some realisation of how much she actually cares. I know, trust me, I know. It was dumb. But no, she doesn’t come in, instead her sister does. She is screaming like a banshee about me punching a hole through her kitchen door and ruining her party, and is basically going full postal. She see’s the razor in my hand, and totally loses her s~~~. In a hailstorm of insults and accusations of me “not being man enough to do it”, she snatches the razor and slashes her own wrist wide open. Legit, she slashes her wrist – blood pouring out everywhere and she is screaming now, realising what she has done and the fact that she has kids. She’s scared, crying, panicking. I’m dumbstruck.
My ex comes in, and lo and behold, it’s all my fault, again. An ambulance is called whilst I’m just sat in a blur with my entire world in disarray. The ambulance arrives and the other lad who had been in bed with my ex get’s in with her sister. What. The. F~~~. Okay whatever… they have told my ex she cannot get in – she is too intoxicated and will need to make her own way there. I see her grab her keys, and I’m like “f~~~ no, you’re not driving in that state.”
More fool me, next I’m standing in front of the car with her revving the engine, screaming that I need to get out the way or she’ll “go through me”. After all, it is all my fault remember guys. I stand there, refusing to move. I’m pleading with her, that in spite of everything, I can’t live with the idea of letting her drive in that state if anything happens to her. So I am standing in front of the car – arms spread, refusing to move. Oh, believe me when I say that I moved when I bounced off the front of the moving car that I’d bought her! Yup, she ran me down. I bounced off the bonnet into the road and she screeched off into the night after the ambulance.
My head spinning, I walked home, 3 miles to her house. I knew she would be up the hospital for a long time and concluded it was the easiest chance I would get – I packed up all my s~~~ and I got the f~~~ out of there. And that my friends is the definition of a crazy c~~~.
But as I was blue pill as f~~~ – I was crazier. Yes, believe it or not, we got back together after 3 months because I am clearly a masochist… but that’s a story for another day.
No-one's yet explained to me exactly what's so great // About slaving fifty years away on something that you hate // About meekly shuffling down the path of mediocrity // Well if that's your road then take it, but it's not the road for me.
Sandals 2 years, 8 months ago.
