Boys Will Always Be Boys

My last relationship was certainly er, different to say the least. Now, I know different isn’t necessarily always a bad thing, however in this case… and, looking back? It kind of was. In funny a way though, I am glad about that now. Glad because it’s shown me that you should know your worth. Always.

THE MEETING...

‘J’ and I met through friends. See, my friend at the time, and her boyfriend wanted to set me up with someone. So that’s where ‘J’ came along. We were having a night out in Liverpool, and ‘J’ was coming. Before the night out, my friend and I started drinking ourselves. Pre-drinks, just the two of us. I had a bottle of champagne left over from my 21st birthday, so we started with that. After a few disastrous dates during the summer, I trusted that my friend knew best, so I was intrigued to meet ‘J’, and see what he was like. I’d seen photos of him, but photos can be deceiving. Just like I’d heard a lot about him, but again… it’s not like they were going to tell me he’s some sort of madman who goes around stealing from old ladies if they wanted to set us up. But anyway, I was looking forward to the night in general, whether the match-making skills worked or not.

Whenever I drink alcohol, I usually drink one thing - gin. For some reason, this night… I drank anything and everything. I think it was due to starting off with the champagne. Those bubbles go straight to your head. And there’s no going back. I’m still struggling to remember the entire night, but I do remember drinking a G&T, finishing a bottle of white wine that had a good 1/4 amount left, a small sample bottle of flavoured vodka, a vodka and coke, and god knows what else… all before we went into town. It was a disaster waiting to happen, I know.

‘J’ arrived shortly after the champagne, and I was introduced. See, it’s hard for me to remember what I was actually thinking at the time, as I was slightly intoxicated to say the least. But… he was a nice guy. Very attractive too. I don’t have a ‘type’, but if I did, he wasn’t it. He was also different to guys I had dated in the past. Again, this wasn’t a bad thing, because like I said, he was very attractive. Proper Scouser too, but easy to get along with and talk to. No awkwardness; it was good. We also had a lot in common, like music and films, (which is very important if you’re dating me).

Later that night, we went to an Absinthe bar. I had never tried absinthe before, so I was oblivious as to its strength. Everyone I was with had been to this bar before, and drank absinthe quite a few times, so they knew how it worked. I was offered a drink and I didn’t know what I wanted, with it being my first time there. So, I asked them to get me whatever they were having - big mistake. They had all worked up a tolerance to absinthe, whereas this was my first time drinking it. I can’t even tell you what the drink was, or how it tasted, because I don’t remember. All I can remember about that bar is having a drink, moving to a different table, and later hugging the toilet in the place for dear life; puking everywhere. As if that wasn’t going to be obvious considering the amount I’d drank, and what I drank beforehand. I’m never sick through alcohol, but I never mix my drinks like I did that night either. It was totally self-inflicted, and expected. Even I don’t have an ounce of sympathy for myself now, still.

Although, I can remember certain parts of the Absinthe bar, like me and ‘J’ really getting along, and talking a lot. Which was the plan. So that was good. There were a couple of others apart from me, ‘J’, my friend, and her boyfriend too. Apparently everyone thought it was ‘cute’ that ‘J’ and I were getting along so well, and just wanted us to kiss, and be together. It was a classic case of me talking to his friends, and my friend alone to see what he thought of me, and vice versa. Quite cringe, really.

At some point between puking my guts out in the toilets, all over my friends new boots (still feel bad about that), and stumbling into an Uber… I made it back, alive. The guys, I presume, walked home. While waiting for them to get back, I fell asleep on the sofa. (Hardly surprising really, is it?) When they arrived back, I woke up and unlike my friend and her boyfriend, I was not tired. Though my flat was only a short walk away, practically around the corner… it felt like a hundred miles away in my state. As my friend and her boyfriend lived in an apartment together, they had a spare bedroom. They were ready for bed while me and ‘J’ were not. ‘J’ lived outside of Liverpool, so it was easier for him to stay too. So off to their spare bedroom we went. This was weird for me, I had not ever been in a bed, or bedroom with a guy I’d met that same night. I know what you’re all thinking… but no, nothing like that happened. I’ll tell you what did happen though.

We stayed up, all night. Talking, and messing around. It was like as if we had known each other years. He taught me some Scouse slang like ‘arlarse’ and ‘gwed’. We sat up and talked about anything and everything, then actually lay down, in bed, fully clothed and kind of cuddled a bit. The only reason we even cared to look at the time was because ‘J’ was on the side of the bed that was next to the window, and saw someone waiting for a bus at the bus stop. “Why is someone waiting for the bus?”, and having looked at my watch… “well it is almost 8am”, I said. It was all so relaxed. That’s when I knew I liked him. We also kissed. Well no, we almost didn’t actually… see, I didn’t know he was about to move in and kiss me as he hadn’t tried to all night. But, at one point when we were lying facing each other, he did move in. Now, I don’t know why, but I guess I just didn’t expect it. When his nose touched mine, and our lips almost met, I backed away. Not because I didn’t want to kiss him, because I did. I backed away, or more like recoiled because I thought he was eskimo kissing me, aka rubbing his nose against mine. “Are you eskimo kissing me?!” I said as I pulled away, and that was it - he stood up and was crying with laughter. I was too. Honestly, to this day, I have no idea why I thought that’s what he was doing. Thankfully, I didn’t ruin the moment. And after all of the laughing, we did kiss. It was a good kiss too. 

For someone who was a drunken mess just a few hours before all of this, I managed to sober up really quickly. ‘J’ was impressed by this, and so was I.

He walked me back to my flat on his way to get the train home later that morning. We hugged and it was a little awkward because I didn’t know if I would, and when I would see him again. All I knew was that I wanted to see him again, and hoped it would be soon.

THE FIRST DATE...

I threw every girl rule out of the window by messaging him later that day when I got home, saying how nice it was to meet him, etc. In fact, I even ended up asking him on the first date. I only did because my friend said he is ‘slow’ like that, and I would be waiting a long time for him to ask me. I had never asked a guy out before, so I felt very nervous writing that message on Facebook Messenger. I was told he wanted to see Stephen King’s IT film. As a fellow horror film fan, I did too. We were talking via FB Messenger at the time, and funnily enough, horror films did come into conversation. There was my opportunity. It took me ages to construct a message and ask him, and even longer for me to send it. But I did it. Yet, it took him twice as long to message me back with his reply. I was on edge. Literally. I know it sounds stupid because it was just a cinema trip, asked via FB messenger of all things, but that’s just it - I couldn’t see his reaction or anything. That wait was agonising for me. What’s worse though is the fact that I didn’t get a reply until over a week later. A whole week. We’d been speaking fine, then I ask him out, and suddenly he disappears. Goes AWOL on me. Great. I was so anxious for days, and drove my friend insane because I just wanted a reply. She hadn’t heard from him either, and neither had her boyfriend. Days went by… still nothing. I kept checking messenger to see if he’d been active or if my message had been read, but no. On the bright side, it wasn’t as though he left me on read and blanked it. He genuinely hadn’t opened the message. That kept me feeling a little more positive. Eventually, I got a reply. When I saw that notification on my phone, I jumped. Finally. It turned out he was ill. Tonsillitis. He said yes though, and a few days later we went to the cinema. He picked me up from my flat in Liverpool, and I was actually a bit nervous. More because it was just me and him this time, our friends weren’t there. I know we spent an entire night together in that spare bedroom, but for some reason, I just felt nervous.

The film was good. I’ll never forget one thing he did during that film - see, I was totally engrossed in the film (obviously), with my legs crossed, then the next minute he knocked my knee off the leg it was crossed with. Oh my god, did I jump. I didn’t anticipate it. Funny though, even if I almost had a mini heart attack at the time.

After the film we went for a drink or two, and then back to mine. Again, we talked until stupid o’clock. Until I fell asleep on him, face on; literally. We both had uni at 9am that day too; safe to say neither of us made it to that 9am.

We saw each other a few more times after this, usually back at my friends apartment. Random drinking nights, and playing drinking games, etc. But I still didn’t know where I stood because he hadn’t actually asked me out. I hate to be old school here, but unless someone genuinely asks me out, you know, like, “will you be my girlfriend?” - I’ll have no idea that we’re dating. I need guys to be specific with me.

One night, when we were walking back from our friends, we stopped by a wall and just ended up talking for a bit. Kissing too. Although we had just been playing drinking games, during which I suppose he did make it clear that he liked me, I still didn’t hear it. So anyway, he said those words I needed to hear, and asked me to be his girlfriend. Bingo. That was it, we were official. Ah. I remember being so giddy. I really liked him.

THE RELATIONSHIP...

Like any relationship, the ‘honeymoon’ stage was good. At first, I saw him quite often. Well, as often as I could considering he lived a good 40-45 minute drive outside of Liverpool, had uni, work placement, and commitments at home too. However, he barely texted. Ever. I’d be lucky if I had more than 3 texts a day. There were occasions when I did, but it wasn’t often. And some days, he wouldn’t text me back at all. He could text me back a day later, or even 2 days later as if nothing was wrong, like, continuing the conversation. To be honest, at the beginning… I was OK with this. I knew he wasn’t a big texter, and rarely used his phone, and I also knew of his home life and commitments. I won’t go into detail about his family/personal life because that’s irrelevant, but let’s just say I understood. Completely.

There came a point though where I missed having texts and conversation. I missed feeling like someone wanted to talk to me. To see how I was, or how my day was going. Not having a text back for days sometimes kind of hurt, especially when he did reply and never once apologised for not texting back. No mention of any reason why either, like he’d been busy or anything. At the time, I thought nothing of it. I liked him too much to really think about it. I thought it was normal. That’s just who he is. This is why now, when I look back, I know alarm bells should have been ringing for me at this point. Communication is important. It’s a healthy part of any relationship. It’s integral, and I sure know that now.

In a way, him not being big on texting wasn’t a bad thing because it always meant we had something to talk about in person. But then, as we didn’t see each other often (more on this to come)… more texting would have helped. To stay in touch, you know. I don’t expect anyone to be texting me obsessively, as fun as that can be, because that’s not sustainable. And I feel like sometimes that can sabotage a relationship. Yet, waiting hours for a reply from ‘J’ really did suck. Especially when I’d text him again, (a double text), whether it be a random text, a question, or just telling him about something that happened to me that day. It made me feel annoying and awkward because he hadn’t even responded to my first text, but there I was, sending another anyway. I remember once I text something like “I miss you”, and his reply? “Why are you being so nice?” followed by a laughing emoji. Like, excuse me for trying to be cute for a second, and for having feelings. In the end, when I was having bad days or something was wrong, I never told him because there was no point - it’s not like I would’ve had a reply.

When I came out of this relationship and started speaking to other guys, I was getting messages like “sorry for not replying…” from all of them. What’s worse is that sometimes, some of them would apologise after not replying within 20 minutes. Honestly? This was new to me. It still is new to me. I was with ‘J’ for around 7-8 months, and never once did I get that. It makes me realise now that it’s just common courtesy to do that. I know if I haven’t replied to someone for a good few hours, I always apologise for it. I feel rude otherwise. Equally, if I know I’m in a situation where my replies will be irregular or I can’t reply at all - I let that person know. Yet, ‘J’ never did; instead I was constantly left waiting for him to respond. Unlike any guy I speak to now, I don’t think ‘J’ ever once asked how I was day-to-day, what I was up to, or even how my day had gone either.

The thing that bothered the most about all of this, was the fact he would be active on Facebook, a lot. So, surely he should have texted me back, right? I mean, all he had to do was switch between the Facebook app to iMessage. But no. Course not. I felt as though I couldn’t say this to him, because let’s be honest - how much of a psycho girlfriend would I have sounded, “you’re on Facebook but haven’t text me text back?”. It was hard. But see, I liked him, and I didn’t want to rock the boat and come across as a whiny, needy girlfriend. I just accepted it; I got used to it. I didn’t want to put him ‘off’ me, I suppose. Everyone kept telling me it was wrong, not normal, and that I had every right to say something. But I didn’t listen, “that’s just ‘J’” I said. It’s fine. Although, being honest, I knew it wasn’t.

There were times where he would go on nights out with friends and I wouldn’t know until either the next time I saw him, or my friend told me. Not that he ever needed my permission to go out, because he didn’t. It just would have been nice to know is all. I felt like a complete dickhead if I asked to do something with him, or see him, and then find out via social media, or through someone else that he was going out with friends anyway. Because either way, I wouldn’t have got a response from him himself. It just made me feel shit. Shit then, and still shit now thinking back. It really was a case of ‘bros before hoes’, never once did he choose to see me, or do something with me instead of the ‘lads’. Not that I ever asked him to, but I wouldn’t have anyway… I knew not to. Because I’d have no chance. It was the lads, always.

So, the times where I’d want to see him or do something… yeah, those were a mission. I could ask to see him, and because he’d either reply 8-10 hours later, or worse still, days later… it was hard to arrange anything. It was hard to see him. My own boyfriend. It was also always me asking to see him. At least 99% of the time I initiated doing things. That too, made me feel incredibly irritating, because surely if he wanted to see me and spend time with me, he would have asked? I mean, I don’t mind making effort at all, but it was constantly me. I almost became somewhat afraid of asking because I wouldn’t get a reply for days, which left me feeling unwanted. I knew how busy he could get at home, but that shouldn’t matter - it takes seconds to send a text. It made me feel annoying, and like he didn’t want to be with me. Which, if that was the case, why not just tell me. It just wasn’t a nice feeling. Relationships should not be one sided so I was told… yet, I liked him. So I carried on, regardless.

Don’t get me wrong though, when I did see him, it was great. He was great. We had fun, and a laugh, always. Even when we did literally nothing. We were always at the cinema, randomly walking into town for Ice Blasts, a meal occasionally. It was all few and far between though. I felt as though I had to book in advance to do something with my own boyfriend. He only lived 40 minutes away, but it felt more like 40 continents.

Then there’s the times when we did have plans to do something, or the times when he was coming over to mine. Not once was he on time. Ever. I don’t mind waiting for people, but it really did take the piss sometimes. Especially when it happened so often. I’d get all dressed and ready only to be left waiting for him. Sometimes it would be hours too. For example, if he was coming over to mine one night - the earliest he’d turn up was probably 10pm. Like, the night is over with. It’s bedtime then. I never even got apologies either. Yet, I liked him. I was grateful and happy to see him. He still came over, so it was fine, right?

So, my birthday this year… we went out Friday and Saturday night. On the Saturday though, he didn’t come to mine until around 9.30pm, baring in mind he knew it was my birthday, and said he would be back ASAP as all he needed to do was go home, shower and change. Yet, he was still late, and not very apologetic either. I was waiting hours, which wasn’t new, but I thought that for once, with it being my birthday and all that, that it would be different. Even his MUM said he should have been at mine earlier to spend the day with me. He also didn’t get me a birthday present, now I didn’t really mind, honestly. I don’t need to be bought. But I did think he would have at least made a little effort to get me something small, whether I’m ‘hard to buy for’ or not. To be fair, he did ask me if I wanted something for my birthday, but I never feel comfortable in telling someone to get me something. Just surprise me. Put some thought and effort into it. It’s not as though he didn’t know me, or know what I liked. Yes, it may have been the ‘wrong’ thing, but I would have appreciated it all the same. I can’t say anything bad because he did pay for everything usually. There were very few occasions where I paid for things like the cinema trips, or the drinks. So I cannot fault him for that. Not that I’m writing this to fault him, even if it comes across as though I am. I mean, my friends were more mad about him not getting me a birthday present than I was. Because again, it was just ‘J’, and I liked him. That says a lot about me, doesn’t it?

THE BREAK UP...

Surprisingly, ‘J’ broke up with me. Or maybe it wasn’t such a surprise, I don’t know. Maybe I’m the bad person in all of this. Maybe I was too much or not enough. Either way, he broke up with me.

I hadn’t seen him for an entire month. Why? Because I stopped trying. I stopped making effort because I wasn’t really getting any in return. I mean, I did have exams at this point, and he had uni deadlines too, but I was willing, and obviously wanting to see him despite that. But I thought no, it’s his turn to make some effort for once. I was tired of feeling like he was not half as interested in me as I was in him. He knew exactly how I felt about him, and how much I liked him, whereas I couldn’t say whether he actually did like me or not. I mean, we were supposed to be in a fucking relationship, and I felt like this?

The effort I thought might come never did. Except, one Sunday night he was coming over. At this point, I had had enough. But even so, all I was going to do was ask where his head is at, because it clearly wasn’t with me. I wasn’t going to break up with him, even though everyone close to me had been telling me to do so for weeks. Before he left, he said those dreaded 4 words - “we need to talk”, and then I knew what was going to follow.

He said he didn’t have time for me, as if that wasn’t obvious already. He said that he had tried to make it work (… really though?). He said that he was sorry, he didn’t want to hurt me… you know, all the typical bullshit things people say to you when they’re actually not sorry, and do hurt you. Me being me, I understood why he was finishing with me. Yet, I couldn’t help but say that he could have tried harder, because he could have. Equally, I couldn’t help but say if you want something to work, you make it work. No excuses. You find time.

Oh, he also dropped some news on me that night about the fact he was going away on that coming Tuesday for 2 weeks. So basically, if he didn’t see me that Sunday night, whether he had planned to break up with me or not, I wouldn’t have even known he was away until he eventually decided to tell me. Presumably while he was out there or something. Charming. I mean, I could’ve had another 2 weeks without seeing him, and no warning. Like, what is that?

The best part of this break up was the fact he sat there and said to me, “I do really like you, and I still want to be mates though, I still want to talk to you and see you”, was he having an actual laugh? We hardly spoke and saw each other as a couple, what chance did we have as ‘mates’? He left that night and text me when he got in; saying that he hoped I was OK, and he’ll still be ‘there’ for me. I didn’t reply until the next day. I sent a long message, I’ll admit, but I was being understanding, and nice about it, considering. Shock horror, he didn’t read my text for several days. But when he did? He left me on read. Fucking seriously?

In fact, here’s the message he sent me on the night of the break up and my reply:

I can't help but feel my reply was worthy of a response, rather than being left on read. But hey, maybe that's just me.

NOW...

This was a few months ago now. Are we ‘mates’? No, not at all. He hasn’t even bothered to text me still, or check up on me. Nothing. I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised about that in all honesty. A persons actions will show and tell you all you need to know. So, I certainly won’t be reaching out to him at any point, that’s for sure.

Looking back, I laugh at all of this now. I should have taken the fact it took him over a week to reply to my offer of the date as an indication of what was to come. I mean, tonsillitis does not affect your thumbs the last time I checked, does it? Deep down, somewhere way deep down, I knew this wasn’t how a relationship should be. I let the fact I liked him too much to ever do anything about it. At the time, I was completely blindsided by it all.

I used go home on weekends, but because of ‘J’, I’d cut my stay at home even shorter by coming back to Liverpool, thinking we’d have plans together. Yet, we hardly ever did. Time and time again I would get the train back, or be driven back, and 9 times out of 10 I would be spending my Saturday night alone. If we did have plans, or had arranged to see each other, it usually didn’t happen. And if it did, it would be late.

Those close to me questioned our ‘relationship’, but I stuck up for him. For us. “you never see him do you?”, “has he text yet?”, “I thought you were going out tonight?” Deep down, I knew they were right. I just didn’t want to listen, because again, that was ‘J’, and I liked him. God knows why, but I did.

The whole situation was a shambles, thinking about it. Being single again has opened my eyes, a lot. I feel as though maybe it was down to the fact he was younger than me. He was 19 at the time we started dating, and 20 now, (I’m 22). Then again, I know couples who are younger, and have it better than we had it. At least I can say that I now understand what people mean when they say that men mature later in life than women do.

At the end of the day, you will never be able to change someone who doesn’t see an issue in their actions. It was an experience, and I’ve learned from it. Like I said at the beginning of this post - know your worth. Because I sure as hell know I’m worthy of being valued, respected and appreciated. And that’s all I have to say.