Option eliminated

I think I've found my balls.

Not literally thank god, but metaphorically.

I'm not entirely sure if blogging about this right now is entirely sensible, considering this little incident only occurred about an hour ago and I'm still absolutely FUMING, but blog about it I will, because I can, so there.

I am sick and tired of men thinking they can pick me up and put me down whenever they see fit, playing with my mind in the process, making me smile for a couple of days, before whipping the carpet out from underneath my feet and deciding that there's something better over their shoulder, plunging me back into boredom and slight unhappiness. In this case, that something better would be a statuesque Russian to get engaged to.

I am not a statuesque Russian, in case you hadn't noticed.

I will never be a statuesque Russian, and quite frankly at this moment in time, I never want to set eyes on another statuesque Russian as long as I live.

I am done.

I am not falling for it again, I'm worth more than an option, in fact dammit, I could give the statuesque Russian a serious run for her money, but quite frankly I can't be arsed, because what's the point?

I shouldn't have to compete, so I'm not going to. I've cut myself from the equation, you can't have both. Or even six or seven, because there's probably more too.

What a lucky, lucky girl, eh? Such a trustworthy dude she's found to spend the rest of her life with. I'm more interested in finding someone with whom I'm the ONLY one, and not one of many, even if that does mean being on my own for a bit longer, or possibly even forever the way things are going.

Is it ever going to happen for me?! Just once?!

Down with the violins ... hello tissues

Cue the violins.

I am miserable. I am borderline depressed. I am full of cold. I need to go back home.

There, that's got it all out in the open.

Now let's get onto something more hopeful ... oh, wait, there is nothing.

I made the mortal mistake of looking through old photographs last weekend; anyone who is friends with me on Facebook will see that it triggered a week long sulk and depressed everyone within a five mile radius. I then decided that I hadn't tormented myself enough, so I dug out my old holiday blog from last October, and that really sunk me into the depths of despair.

Why, oh why, do I do this to myself?!

And I've been listening to Adele.

I might even have made a couple of ill-advised phone calls in an easternly direction ... which got me absolutely nowhere as per usual.

Someone slap me now.

I'm feeling the need for copious amounts of vodka, but I fear that'll just send me into a Bridget Jones-style 'All By Myself' singalong, but without the dodgy PJs. I don't even like vodka that much.

So whilst trying, and failing, to distract myself from my unfixed heart, I've decided I want to explore the country that I've decided my future lies in.

I love Marmaris, I really enjoyed Istanbul, but I want to see more. I want to see the real Turkey, I want to experience the real culture when the tourism element's taken out. I want to see a willage, sorry, village, and experience that. Forgive me and my western girl sensibilities, and yes I'm very grateful for all I've got, but I think there's something beautiful and stripped-back about the way of life in a south-eastern village, and I want to really see it for myself.

Problem with all this is, how the bloody hell am I going to manage it?!

I don't know anyone in a south-eastern willage, well I do, but he doesn't want me, so it's going to be a difficult one to sort out. I've found some places that do home-stay tours, but I don't really want to do a guided tour thing, I want to wing it. Might take some thought. The other places though, they're much easier to visit, so maybe I'll start with those and hope I make it back in one piece before I get too ahead of myself.

Anyway, anyone with any ideas, feel free to throw them my way ...

I'm still on countdown, as I always seem to be, and I'm starting to feel progressively more guilty for feeling this way. I have a good job, I have friends, I have a wonderful family, yet for some reason my heart screams for me to be somewhere else completely. It's got to be wrong, surely.

So yeah, as well as feeling heartbroken, lost, lonely and like I'm not where I should be, I now feel guilty.

Happy, happy days.

And here's me thinking my 30s were going to be fun ...

Like a phoenix from the flames

... or something less dramatic.

Dear readers, I am feeling good. Cue James Brown-style dancing.

If you managed to bring yourself to read my last post, you'll remember that I was wallowing in a very deep pool of extremely hideous self-pity, over something that should have been over with a loooong time ago. Well, I promised I'd rant and rave then get over it, and I've done just that, in fact I've gone one better and can officially say that I'm pretty much alright.

It's done with, I'll keep my memories thanks very much (because they still make me smile), and I'll bid it goodbye.

So onward and upwards.

I'm actually smiling again, how good is this?!

So other than super-gluing my stubborn heart back together in a very over-due fashion, what else have I been doing?

I've been propositioned by a trans-sexual.

I hope you weren't drinking coffee reading that, I wouldn't like to be responsible for third degree burns or broken laptops due to water-logging.

Yeah, you read it right - propositioned by a trans-sexual.

The person in question asked me if I fancied trying something with extras - literally. You'll be pleased to know I politely declined the offer. Which means I basically ignored it.

This is why I think it's probably wise that I give up on this other half business, because I clearly don't attract the right ones. I've got nothing against trans-sexuals in the slightest, if you like that kind of thing, but not for me - nor are overly-suggestive artists, erotic massueurs, stalkers or downright weirdos.

It's a losing battle, I tell you.

One thing I have decided though, is that I want Will.I.Am to be my best friend. He's hilarous. I want him and Gok Wan as my bessies - can you imagine the fun we'd have?! And I'd be seriously well dressed of course, and uber confident thanks to Gok's magic words. I've decided that this plan will complete me as a person.

A girl can dream.

Other than deciding which celebs are going to be in my posse, I've generally been panicking about the size of my suitcase, whilst at the same time deciding that the size of my belly is just as it will be, and sod anyone that has a problem with it. See - this is serious progress going on right here. I've come to the conclusion that I am what I am, and that's basically the end of it. The suitcase however, that is slightly worrying.

This has all come about because the wonderful Havas bag handling people at Dalaman wouldn't know the word 'gentle' if it bit them on the backside, and because of this my pretty pink suitcase that up to now has gone around the world with me, is looking a tad bit tired and battered - not to mention sporting a pretty hideous hole on the side. So that's gone to the big luggage park in the sky and I've had to have a new one. Now you should know that I'm not thrilled with it in the first place because it's red, not pink, so we started off on the wrong foot anyway, but it's a litle smaller than my other. This wouldn't be a problem had I not had trouble zipping the other one up, but I did, so this is posing somewhat of a challenge. Packing for this jolly is going to take some serious creative thought.

Looking on the bright side, summer is meant to be putting in an appearance tomorrow - it's sort of peeking through the curtain as I type this. About bloody time too, I've never known having to wear a coat, scarf and boots in May before. Of course, now I've jinxed it and it will probably rain for the rest of the year. Sorry folks.

God, this blog's random today - it's because I'm feeling a bit light y'see, it's all this getting over the boy thing, it's a really nice feeling - y'know feeling normal and not mental. If I could ever be classed as normal that is .....

Therapy

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm going to rant and rave and wallow in self-pity, but I can assure you that once it's out of my system, it'll be gone. I promise.

I think some people might see this as good news, in fact I know a lot will, but right now, to me, I feel like someone has punched me rather hard in the stomach - and I'm not talking a little weedy punch either, I'm talking a big, fat Amir Khan punch.

Ouch, to put it mildy.

As soon as I mention his name, well sort of name, you'll all moan and groan and probably not read anymore, but I can assure you, this is purely for my own therapy, because if I don't write about it, I'll probably cry and rant about it, and there's no way I'm messing up my eye make-up again.

The boy.

I'll pause for the groan.

It's been hanging but over for months, but I'm a girl and a cancerian one at that. And us cancerian girls fight when we feel, and oh my, did I feel. So despite it all going a bit wrong and him being, what I can now confidently call a twat, I still had the knowledge in the back of my mind that I'd see him in summer - and y'know, maybe like the films - he'll change, he'll see what he's lost and he'll want another chance. Yeah, I know, hilarious, more chance of Kilamanjaro melting. I can now quite categorically say that I've had my pink, sparkly bubble very much burst.

Hello reality.

The basic truth of the matter is that all the signs were there, I just chose not to see them, and I made some pretty crazy choices in the process. The only saving grace in the whole thing is that there literally is nothing more I could do, so it's not like I could look back on it and think 'if only I'd done ....' or 'what if', because the only 'what if' in the whole sorry state of affairs, is 'what if he wasn't such a monumental dick?'

Alas, he is a monumental dick, and sadly not in a positive sense either.

A coward too.

With dodgy eyebrows.

Who owes me 16TL.

But anyway, that's one year of my life I can't get back. Not the good bits, I'll keep those, because despite the whole pathetic story, I have nice memories and I had a hell of a time, but the bad outweighed the good, I just chose to sugar-coat that and pretend it didn't happen.

I've now woken up to the fact that it did happen, which is just as well really because it is now official that I will never see him again. And that's not a threat either, it's a geographical fact. There's something very wrong when a dude decides to up sticks and move cities to get away from you. I'm not sure whether I should take that as a diss or not, but I don't think I will, I'll just put it down to him being ... yeah, you guessed it, a monumental dick.

So, what now? Sigh, mope for a few minutes, block, block, delete. Goodbye forever. You have made your choice - you also made the wrong one.

Oh, and try and phase out the negative voice in my head going 'it's because you were ... (insert here), a) too miserable, b) not pretty enough, c) not slim enough, d) not rich enough (ha bloody ha), e) too clingy, e) just not memorable enough.

Yeah that's just me being a monumental dick now, I'll get over it, nothing a huge bar of Dairy Milk won't solve. I guess that's another positive to it, see I'm finding them now, the whole slim right down, glam right up and sashay my arse past him to make him see what he's missing plan can end. It's sad really, I was looking forward to that bit, I've now been robbed of the look on his face. Mind you, the diet wasn't really going that well to be fair.

So now that's all over, I do feel a tad bit bereft and feel the need to fill my head with something else, because I'll be honest, I've not thought of much else, despite protestations to the contrary. Right at this moment, I do feel a little free though, which is a novelty, maybe this holiday will be one to remember for all the right reasons, and one I won't come home from with borderline depression.

One can hope.

So I'm sorry for the hours of ranting and raving, I'm sorry for being so hideously blind to what everyone else could plainly see - but I'm a romantic and I wear my heart on my sleeve. The major positive? I know my worth, he's taught me that.

So y'know, thanks.

Meet my friend Ben .....

It has begun.

A little sooner than I thought, but it's certainly here. With avengence.

The burning desire to jump on a plane has crash landed into my life and caused Travel Republic's web traffic to shoot through the roof.

I so want to go. Now.

Why?

I haven't got the foggiest. The weather's still a bit crap, nobody's really there yet and not everything's open.

So why, oh why am I having to literally restrain myself from packing a suitcase?

I suppose I should explain what the hell I'm banging on about, just for the benefit of those that don't really understand, or aren't aware, of my colourful travelling history.

I'm holiday addicted.

It's a very expensive habit, and one that I don't really see myself kicking any time soon. Now, I get stick for this, not because I like going on holiday, but because despite protestations to the contrary, I always generally end up going back to the same place.

I'm addicted to holidays in Marmaris, Turkey.

If I had my way it would be one very long, extended holiday. But alas, I am skint, so holidays will have to do for the time being.

I think I know what's caused this to start so early on - it's because I had a plan. Yes, it was a rather ill-timed and niave plan, but it seemed like a good one at the time. Had things worked out with the boy, and by that I mean, had he not been practicaly mute for most of the winter, causing me to seriously question my own sanity, then I planned to go out there for the week, which would have been next week. Instead, the reality of the matter is, I'm not going out next week, in fact I'm not going out for a little while yet, and things certainly have not worked out with the boy, because I actually don't even know if he's working there this year at all.

Part of me hopes not.

One day I will be over this, I promise.

Is it wrong to be very excited about a holiday, yet at the same time, really quite worried about the state I may come home in? I don't want it again, I can't do all that again, it doesn't work, I've tried, so I'm going to try my damned hardest not to. However, me, vodka and the sight of a certain person really don't go together well, if you throw Efes into the mix, then my god, you're really asking for trouble. So that's why a little bit of me is hoping I don't have to deal with it. Will I succeed? Only time will tell I guess, but this time I know how it ends, so really, what is the point? Just show me the Efes, baklava and a chicken kebab or three, and I'm a happy girl - I don't need a broken heart, thanks very much.

I wouldn't mind, but he still owes me 16 TL.

Git.

Another reason why I'm quite keen to escape is the weather. I can't swim very well, so this torrential monsoon-like situation isn't filling me with much joy. It certainly didn't fill me with much joy when my ceiling started leaking yesterday either - trying to sleep with a 'drip drip drip' backing track isn't easy, let me tell you. Will it ever stop?! I have beautiful summer clothes that need wearing before they go out of fashion!

This is quite a depressing post isn't it? I do apologise, it's the rain - again blame it on the weatherman. I think I've got a derivative of SAD. Show me the sunshine and I'm smiling.

Speaking of which, I think I may go and indulge in something else that never fails to make me smile ......

Ben & Jerry's.

If you were thinking other things, shame on you and your filthy mind!

I have discovered Ben & Jerry's Karamel Sutra and OMG - who needs a man when you've got a tub of that bad boy? It hits places that no dude ever could. So of course I've bought three tubs. It would be rude not to.

In fact, I think I can hear it calling my name ......

Diet? What diet?

Expand or shrink .....

Shrinking progress
Lost 1lb
Gained 1lb
So all in all ..... uneventful.

What happened to the determination of my last post, I hear you ask. Well it lasted until Friday afternoon then decided to go on holiday until Monday morning - my determination is very much like me you see, addicted to holidays. I was doing well, it was the hideously calorific pizza that did it. I'm allowed 1200 a day - this pizza had 1000 in it alone.

I know, shameful.

But it had to be done.

So now for the wake-up call, and time to step away from the Jelly Babies. There's a reason Jelly Babies are chubby, it's because they're eating their own arm half the time - they're the devil in disguise! They get a bit peckish and decide to nibble their own finger - bam! Another pound gained. Damn you Tesco, with your buy one get one frees!

Anyway, I've discovered something amazing, well actually I didn't, my friend did and shared the knowledge. I am now counting calories instead of points and I'm actually not hungry, which is y'know, useful.

So we'll see how long this one lasts for.

On the plus side, this health kick made me shake my arse a little harder at Zumba, and my oh my did they make us wiggle. I think it might be bordering on obsene, and I'm very sorry to whoever stands behind me but the Lord blessed me with a sizeable behind, and so shake it I must. Good fun though.

I have stalker progress! Yes, he has got the message, he has stopped sending me hopeful emails and I think (think) he's moved on to someone who gives a damn. See, the cowardly approach works sometimes! I did however have someone send me an email saying that I should only reply if I fit into a long list of strict criteria, which he continued to set out quite clearly. I was in a mood, so he got the full brunt of my hormones - don't think he'll be bothering me again either.

See, this is my problem, I'm a cow half the time, I think I scare people off. However I have been sending a few chatty texts to a guy who seems alright, I say 'seems' because I don't really know him, and only just found out his name - which alone sounded alarm bells. Now I swear this isn't intentional, but it turns out he's Turkish, well actually no, he's Kurdish but from Turkey. Sound familiar? I don't know quite how I managed that one. Plus point is he lives in England, so y'know, small mercies and all that. I have to say I'm not feeling it though, I think the ex has put me off for life, I'm not really willing to go through that gut-wrenching agony all over again, at least not quite yet anyway.

And anyway, I've only been talking to him for a day and I'm bored now.

The odd thing is, I complain about being single, but when the chance comes for me not to be, I freak out and decide I'd rather be single after all.

Yes, I know what you're thinking, I'm scared. You'd be right.

Now show me that rocking chair and golf course, maybe a few cats to keep me company.

Werther's Original anyone?

Sweet rebellion

When I woke up this morning, I had to check that I hadn't been abducted by aliens in the middle of the night and transported back in time 15 years. No, this wasn't because I seem to have woken up with a spot that is threatening to take over my chin, no, it is because I am feeling rebellious with a capital R.

I wasn't really a rebellious teenager in terms of fighting, or going out and getting totally trollied on questionable vodka when I was younger, no that came much later on, when I realised that earning money in the week meant I could go out and drink fluorescently coloured alcopops at the weekend, whilst dancing on a rather unsafe depiction of a speed-boat, in an even more questionable bar, after shimmying ungracefully up a pole (yes, up a pole, takes some practice, let me tell you, and not easy in heels), then trying not to fall off said speedboat, or at least not whilst spilling any of my drink. No, I was quite a good girl when I was younger, too good actually, even though I was a little cow at home. So this morning when I woke up feeling like I wanted to go and do something completely spontaneous and something which I will probably regret next week, I wondered if the universe had decided it was time to make up lost ground and reclaim my teenage youth.

It's weird, but I strangely like it. So I'm going to dye my hair very red tomorrow, yes, it will probably end up orange because it's already meant to have red in it (although I'm sure I was sold a duff with that hair dye, because it's only red in certain lights - definitely not what it said on the box). And secondly, I'm going to have my nose pierced. Tastefully of course, I'm not going to go the whole bull-ring thing, a nice sparkly little stud will do nicely. I'm having to do some research first though, I've heard that the side you have pierced means something in some places, I don't want to have the right side pierced only to find out later that it means 'slapper' in Hindi, or vice versa. So if anyone can shed any light on this before I go ahead and get someone to stick a hole in my nose, I'd be most grateful.

I might even get another tattoo .....

Has this rebellion got something to do with being 30 (whisper that quietly) in July?!

I think it may have something to do post-man syndrome. You know, when you go through a break up, how you're meant to get a new hair cut? Well I don't want a new hair cut, I'm growing my hair so that wouldn't be helpful, instead I'm going to dye the mop red and turn my nose into a sieve.

And if it all goes wrong, the best thing is I can blame the boy! Not my fault at all, not my idea, and nothing to do with my bad judgement. No, it is all down to he who shall not be named. Sorted.

I do like this idea, I could do all manner of things and claim insanity due to being emotionally battered and bruised. Hmm, where to start ....?!

This week, apart from my regression in years, I've been out every night for various things, and y'know what, I'm not quite sure how I'm going to cope with staying in for the day tomorrow. Turns out, I quite like being a social butterfly, I've not done it in far too long. I'm learning what it's like to have a social life again now that summer is over and I can't jump on a plane at regular intervals, which unfortunately has the nasty side effect of draining the bank balance and running up the credit card bill. Don't get me wrong, I am skint with a capital S, it is January after all, and my plastic has taken a hit, but I've felt the need to be with my friends and I've made the effort to try and lift myself out of the funk that the boy has put me in. I say I've tried, I'm not saying it's necessarily worked. See, it's all his fault again. My credit card bill is now his fault too. This excuse I like.

My first Konad attempt

I have also made a wonderful discovery that has made me smile more than "he" has in the last few weeks - Konad nails. Oh my days, it's the most wonderful invention ever. Well, maybe not 'ever', I'm sure the hoover, fridge and the wheel might have something to say about that, but it's definitely epic.

For those of you that don't know, Konad is nail art stamping and it's oh-so-easy that even I can do it under the influence of wine. Yes, I'm drinking wine too. This is also his fault.

You can find more stuff on this wonderful invention, that is Konad, not the boy, here.

Unfortunately, with January, comes the obligatory depression of bad weather and very busy travel agents. I've spent most of the month, well when I've not been out zumba-ing or drinking hot chocolate (rock n' roll), looking at Travel Republic again. This is an addiction that is threatening never to leave me. I don't really want it to if I'm honest, I like holidays, I get a rather worrying rush from pressing 'find flights' and waiting, wondering if I can get a return to Dalaman in peak season for under £200. Not happening I tell you. What I did find was a very cheap week in May, one that I am very tempted to book, as a nice little prelude before the annual two weeker later in the summer at some point. Well I say annual, it wasn't really annual last year was it? I spent more time on a plane flying back and forth over Europe than I did going out in my own town. Mind you, can you blame me? A night out in Ches Vegas ain't really the high life. But anyway, I'm half dreading summer and half stupidly excited. The dreading part is because I seem to be incapable of not settling into normal life in summer, I'm always wanting to be elsewhere. This tells me something. Unfortunately the bank balance does not agree.

Grrrrr.

One day, defintely one day.

The grass ain't always greener

This week has been ..... oh god, this week's been weird. Up and down, emotional and just draining. I don't think it's just me either, I've spoken to at least two of my friends who both feel like their lives are going nowhere. Maybe it's January, maybe this is what this hideious month causes us to feel - a total lack of hope and an overwhelming desire to change things, but not really knowing where to start.

If I'm honest, I know the root of my unhappiness, well the main one anyway, and yeah go on, roll your eyes, groan and stamp your feet, but yes, it is the boy that is causing me this. I can't let go. I've tried, good lord, I've tried, but I just can't do it. The thought of life without him in it, in whatever capacity, just makes me feel ridiculously low. The funny (and not ha ha) thing about it is that him being in it seems to make me feel ridiculously low as well, when he's acting this way anyway. When he's being alright, it's like the highest of highs. I think maybe he's my drug, one I need to kick I guess most people would say. I just worry that I'll never find anyone again that I feel so strongly about.

I'm just not at the point where I can walk away without feeling like nothing is ever going to be right again. But I suppose the question is, am I ever going to be at that point, because really, does that point really exist?

You know what the most stupid part of it is? I could hack it, just about I think, I could if I could get the thought of him with someone else out of my head, because that thought makes me want to pull at my own hair. And this is because I have a nasty feeling this will be with someone I know, someone who would quite like to get back at me for daring to have a mind of my own. I know I can't control someone else's actions, and to be honest I think he might have a little bit of sense than that, but it seeems my mind likes toturing itself with such thoughts.

I need to get away. I'm desperate for a change of scenery and some excitement. I'm living at home at the moment, and nobody knows about my little heartbreak in the house - can you imagine what they'd say?! "What were you thinking getting involved with a Turk anyway?" I can just hear it now, and because of that, the sympathy is at an all time low. Which doesn't help because quite frankly I feel lonely, like no-one understands and like all I want to do is cry, but I can't even do that because someone hears me sniffling and wants to know what's wrong. As if going through this alone isn't bad enough.

I gave him one last chance this week ....  I won't know the outcome for definite until in 10 days' time, I have suspicions but not definites. I can't really say what it is right now, because people really will think i'm more mental than they already do. If it works, it'll be amazing, if it doesn't, I'll be in bits. But I'll have my answer with no more what ifs, and there literally will be nothing more I can do. So what choice will I have but to walk away? It's a shame that you have to risk complete and utter heartache to get your final answer.

In attempt to get out of the house, I made a point of catching up with some old friends this week. What became glaringly obvious is that nobody is happy with their life, no matter how perfect it looks from the outside. I'm sure they won't mind me saying this, it's not like I'm naming names after all ....

One of my friends, from the outside looks like she has the perfect life, loving husband, nice house, two kids, cars, and all that. It turns out she's unhappy with the way she looks, even though there is absolutely nothing wrong with her in the slightest, and she wants to get out more and wishes she'd travelled more.

Another of my friends hasn't been married long, again she's got a loving husband and everything going for her, yet she's miserable and feels like she's stuck in a rut that she has no idea how to get out of.

I look at these two and from the outside I'd say they have everything - specifically because they have love. But it turns out that they think I'm the lucky one because I'm free to do what I want.

Daft really, I'd give anything to find someone that loves me as much as I love them, mainly because this has never happened for me, and I'm beginning to wonder if it ever will. Whereas they'd give anything to be able to have the single freedom that I do.

Who said the grass was greener on the other side?

Gets you thinking really, are we ever truly happy?

Inpatiently waiting ....

Okay, I get the impression that I'm going to get a barrage of abuse somewhere along the lines of 'you stupid twit, let him go', or words to that effect, but I need to rant, and I need to rant rather badly.
See I have a problem.

It's been bothering me since, oooh, June I think, actually yeah, June 6th to be more precise. June 6th is the first time I stepped foot on a plane this year, back to the place I knew would cause me trouble, but the place I can't keep away from nonetheless. Actually I'm telling lies, my trouble didn't start on 6th, because that was the Monday, and I didn't set eyes on him until the Tuesday. So 7th June, that's when it all started to go a bit Pete Tong.

I should've known he'd be trouble, he had a swagger, that spells trouble, right? But he was oh so pretty, the swagger didn't matter.

Fast forward six months and I'm definitely convinced that a swagger means trouble, no matter how pretty the face.

He had me at hello, or merhaba, and he has been giving me heart-shaped grief ever since. Yet for some strange and unfathomable reason I cannot walk away, I cannot let him go and for an even more unknown reason, I really don't want to let him go either. Despite his weird ways, which incidentally I'm not even sure he understands, I love him. It's that simple.

The boy, as he shall be known, made me feel alive and I'm sorry if that makes me sad and pitiful, but I kinda like feeling alive. He also makes me feel sad and like bawling my eyes out when he does one of his infamous 'leave me alone, don't call me' routines. Funnily enough, these routines always end the same way - him swearing blind he never said it, because he didn't mean it, and not being able to leave me alone.

Maybe we're both as bad as one another, knowing it's possibly a bit wrong, but not able to let each other go completely.

Doomed.

See the thing is, I don't really and truly believe it is wrong, I believe it could work, in fact, I believe it could be bloody wonderful, if he could just get over whatever the hell keeps making him act like, quite frankly, a dick. I have said how I feel, I've poured it all out, I've laid it on the line. You'd have been proud of me, I was very firm. So what now? Now I'm waiting for an answer.

Waiting very, very inpatiently.

I sort of got one, a week ago, it was quite positive actually, but now he's done a runner on me again and I have no idea what's going on. It's driving me insane.

So in the interim, whilst I'm going a bit madder than I normally am, I'm also starting to get angry. I'm pretty sure it won't be long before I fly into a blind rage, especially if this carries on into the new moon phase. God help us all.

Why do I let him treat me this way? I love the git, that's why. Why does he treat me this way when he's supposed to care? I deserve to be treated properly, surely? Yet all it takes is for his name to pop up on my screen, simply saying 'hello', and my heart is soaring and I'm smiling like a loon. There's something wrong here, surely?

I don't understand why he's acting this way, fine one minute and freaking out the next. What happens if we do decide to actually make a go of this and a serious decision crops up? Am I going to have to make it alone because he's freaked out and run away, back to the willage?! I thought I was the one that wasn't strong enough for this, I was wrong, I'm actually a bloody warrier princess compared to him, he's the one that's not strong enough.

For the love of god man, strap on a pair.

It's oh so easy to say, he's not acting good enough, walk away and find someone who'll treat you right, and yeah, if I was advising a friend, I'd say the same, but it's no way that easy in practice. The thought of never seeing him again makes my heart feel like someone's put it in the grips of a boa constrictor, the thought of him with someone else makes me feel sick and the 'what if' just makes me want to cry.

What the hell am I going to do?

A friend of mine put it best, you can't move forward because you're always looking back, and you can't look forward because something's pulling you back. Add to that not actually wanting to move forward without him, and you're spot on.

The only thing I know for sure is that this has to end somewhere, one way or the other. It is make or break. If he says yes, we'll try, and by god I'd give it every little bit of energy I have, and then some. If he stalls much longer, or goes off on one again, we're done. For good. 

So the waiting continues.

Surely it's not meant to be this hard?!