week of pain

Regardless of how happy I am to be dating someone at the moment, it doesn’t draw from the fact that I am still getting over my last relationship. It has only been four months since the big break up.

You have your good weeks and your bad. I know it wasn’t right.
And over the last month I’ve been ok.

This week, however, continues to be horrific.
Everyone I possibly know has affected this week for me.

My ex knows me so well. He knows what advice to dish out on any occasion, he knows what I love, what I hate and pretty much what I’m feeling at any one time. That’s why we’re still very close, albeit having given up on the relationship that unraveled drastically over the last two years together.

His family is my second family. I still talk to his mother, and like yesterday, to his father. His adolescent brother phones me up for advice. Leaving my ex meant that I was essentially leaving his family, so a big chunk of my life has been thrown into a void.

He sent me flowers without a card on Valentine’s Day, and I knew they were from him, although he only admitted this hours later. I’ll be ok, I suppose getting over people goes in steps. You hit a plateau, then you have to work at getting to the next one.

There are times, when I’m flying as high as a kite, I know it wasn’t right and I know ultimately we probably would’ve made each other very unhappy, and I’m glad we had the strength to finally admit this. Small Bum and him are so different, which is good but disconcerting at the same time. I knew what to do with Steve, I never had to guess. It’s hard work getting to know and trust a new person again.

I met up with my best guy friends last night at a cocktail do. One let slip that my ex is having strippers over to his place on Friday. Usually this is a mundane sort of thing I wouldn’t have a crisis over, but this week, I am feeling the sting.

Then Small Bum, who is fucking grumpier than I am in the mornings – and shouldn’t be since he doesn’t have to go into work – blames me, blames me! Because he got bitten by mosquitoes last night. Why ruin a perfectly good napover with “This never happens when you’re not here.”

And Weezy, although apologetic for her behaviour this weekend, has made me so angry I don’t want to even look at her over the next couple of weeks.

Bringing me to conclude in a web of lost relationships and rocky friendships: WHY DOES EVERYONE, EVERYONE! FEEL THAT THEY CAN TALK TO ME AS THEY LIKE and/or BLAME ME FOR THINGS THAT ARE OUT OF MY HANDS?
I have had enough. No more Miss Nice Guy. I am a bitch as from today.