Tag Archives: Denial

The Thrill of the Chased

I’m not used to being chased…it’s definitely a new, interesting and quite frankly enjoyable phenomenon that has come with increased confidence, and a loss of approximately 5 stone. Which the winner is here, is anyone’s guess. Confidence is attractive I agree, but I’m leaning towards the more aesthetically pleasing svelte size 10 figure…I digress.

As I was saying. I’m not used to being chased. I was the one chasing for many years, it was a role reversal I was not comfortable with given my extremely fragile ego and a phobia of rejection. The chase was not thrilling for me, at all. It would often end in tears, whether I was successful in my pursuit, or not.

If I was unsuccessful for whatever reason, I took it very, very personally. I felt humiliation, bitterness and utter self loathing. No one liked me because I was fat. I was destined to die alone with a houseful of cats.

I didn’t get it. I get on with men famously; I have a lot of male friends…was I always going to be friend zoned? Even the men I knew who would rather be with the wrong person than be alone, chose to be alone rather than be with me. I know, such self pity…it’s not attractive, is it?

When I was successful in snagging a man for a night, it was equally destructive. I won, but I lost at the same time…the guys were just using me. I knew it, they knew it…but I always hoped that it wasn’t the case. That he’d see that inside the squishy, buxom exterior I was actually awesome; funny, smart and caring. But they never did. My ego got a stroking when I managed to capture a man that was way out of my league for the night, but shortly after came more self loathing and more self pity. They took me home because I was their best offer that night. Some were nice enough to keep me as a friend with benefits; they threw me a bone and I was happy with the scraps.

I was ‘seeing’ one guy for an entire 3 months before he finally told me he simply didn’t fancy me. He didn’t even like me. At all. Never did. Three months. Can you even imagine how strong my denial was to get through 3 months without really realising I was being utterly taken advantage of? How deep in the gutter my confidence was? Perhaps I did realise, I just couldn’t accept it. Wouldn’t accept it. Without him I was truly on my own, and there was no worse punishment then spending even more time by myself – I hated myself. My looks, my personality, my weight, my life. All of it.

It was all a vicious cycle, and eventually it broke. I decided enough was enough, I was tired of being mournful and cynical and hateful. I was sick to death of hating myself and everyone else. In counselling I had a breakthrough; I realised I used my weight as a big, massive size 18 barrier against the world. I craved closeness, but I was sabotaging my chances of being happy with myself and sabotaging the chance of finding someone who could love me by getting heavier and heavier and eating more and more. It was a mental buffer made physical.

So after having a serious 3 hour sobbing session, I joined the gym, I put myself on a diet and I finally after many ups and downs and a couple of years of plateaus, I hit my target weight. My confidence, although not sky high, has reached levels I never thought were possible whilst cowering in my deep, dark pit of despair.

And now, the men are the ones doing the chasing! I can sit back and enjoy having drinks bought for me. I had dates with 4 different guys one week and all of them wanted to see me again. What a weird experience that was. Very weird, very unusual for me, but very awesome. I can pick and choose who I see again, who I like enough to consider a second date with, and who’s worth my time as it’s pretty precious these days. It never crossed my mind I’d be able to pick from a lineup of guys, never. And here it is. A shedload of weightloss and a huge helping of personal growth along with it. Life can be kindof awesome these days.

Does Michael Myers Ever Die??! Letting Go Is Hard To Do…Apparently.

Once you get attached to someone it can be really hard to break free of the idea of you and them being together…I know what it’s like from first hand experience, quite often the product of unrequited love/lust/crush, but you get over it and if you’re sensible, you don’t do anything more freaky than a little bit of Facebook stalking…

A guy I dated seems to be having trouble letting go of me. The dude from my first post. We dated for not quite two months, but from a couple of weeks in, I was starting to have doubts. By 6 weeks, I was dreading having to spend time with him. I’d rather have had a surprise hysterectomy. Fully conscious. It got that bad.

What was worse is that he was utterly shocked when I broke it off with him. People that know me find me to be as transparent as sheet glass when I don’t particularly enjoy something. I try to hide it, but I fail. Epically. And yet, this guy was so self involved he didn’t notice…or didn’t care that I didn’t really like spending time with him. He didn’t see that I just stopped responding to him talking at me. That my smile was tight lipped, or that my tone of voice was flat, apart from when my frustration with him rose, which was far too regularly.

When I broke it off, I made it clear that my decision had been made, I’d thought about it, I’d come to a conclusion and I was staunch that I was ditching him. It seemed only fair on both of us.

He tried convincing me that I was being too rash. Because fantasising about slapping a guy round the head with a halibut is not proof enough that this was not going to work out…

During this attempted convincing, he told me he was planning on taking me for a trip to London. First I’d heard of that. At that point, I would’ve preferred spending a relaxing weekend in the Tower of London tied to a rack being made to watch a dude sharpening implements of torture.

I state my case again, this is not working, I’m not happy, it’s over.

He dropped the L bomb. He loves me, says he. Fuck me, says I (in my head, of course). That’s desperation for you. He didn’t even know me, he wouldn’t let me speak and didn’t have a clue what I was feeling despite it being painfully obvious, but he loves me. Bull.

Enough is enough, says I. Time to bring out the big guns.

“I just don’t want to waste your time. I really can’t see myself ever loving you.”

I felt like I was murdering Bambi in front of him. This is it. He must be aware, now, exactly how it is, this will end all the arguments, retorts, emotional manipulations and convincing, I tell myself.

Wrong.

“I think you will.” Says he.

Bollocks.

He looked pretty damn sure of himself as well. Maybe Stockholm Syndrome got the better of the previous girlfriends?

After this, I gave up. Left him to his tears and delusions and walked home. There was no convincing this guy that I had made my decision and it was final. Abandonment was the way to go. Sure, I felt like a heartless bitch, but there’s only so many ways to tell a person ‘Dude, I’m done with this shit, seriously’, and have it be ignored before it’s time to just GTFO.

I didn’t hear from him for a couple of weeks, and I was relieved. I thought it might have sunk in, and that maybe he would go back to his Mothers (think Norman Bates), talk at some other poor unsuspecting girl and leave me the hell alone.

Wrong.

I got a message from him on Facebook, along the lines of ‘I really miss you and I want you back.’

BOLLOCKS.

I basically told him to get over it, find someone else, delete my number, move on, I’d found someone else, and I actually said “It’s not happening”. He kept messaging me. I blocked him.

He must get the message by now, surely…I’ve told him in no uncertain terms is it EVER going to happen. Ever. And then I blocked him to drive the point home.

Wrong.

He messaged me on the dating site where we first ‘met’ TWO MONTHS after I dumped him. We have now been ‘broken up’ longer than we were together. It was a long and emo, possibly drunken (but I’m not convinced) message about how I was the best thing that ever happened to him and that again, he wants me back.

This guy is like Michael fucking Myers. No matter how hard you shoot the bastard down, stab him in the heart, douse him in petrol and flick a match at the sadistic twat he keeps coming right at you. He slinks away when you’re not looking only to appear 5 minutes later from a fucking cupboard wielding the giant ass carving knife you rammed into his heart…

I didn’t respond. It doesn’t matter how I respond. What the fuck else can I say? I’ve given him plenty of reasons, the main one being ‘I don’t want to’ and I’ve found about 50 ways to say ‘…er. Thanks…but fuck off now yeah?’ I could not have been any more clear.

This has gone beyond desperate to mental illness now. This is personality disorder type shit I’m dealing with here. This is freaking me out. This nutter knows where I live, knows the car I drive, knows where I work and clearly doesn’t give a fuck about consent.

It’s been a couple of weeks and after blocking him on the dating site I haven’t heard anything, but I’m not entirely sure that I’ve heard the last from him.

I’m just waiting for him to appear in the back of my car wearing a William Shatner mask.

“Why can’t we give it another go?”