There are up tales, there are down tales, and there are tales that make you feel like you’ve just ridden a roller coaster with diarrhoea. This is one of those tales.
Despite my best efforts to remain ‘casual’ with the German, to keep my walls up, and my expectations realistic, I was inevitably, catching the hardcore feels. I mean really, who could blame me? We had rapidly slotted into boyfriend/girlfriend habits. We spent multiple nights a week together, cooked meals, did activities galore, and I even helped him study for his English exam.
We were by all accounts in a relationship, but that wasn’t what he wanted. He could sense my feels growing. On one occasion I was at Revs, standard, when he called wanting to see where I was. I tried to get him to join me in da club and he tried to get me to go home and bang. I didn’t want to leave my friends so we came to a compromise. I would go outside and fuck him, then we would split my cost back into Revs. We found some scaffolding and he hoisted me onto a platform, turned me around, bent me over, shimmied my dress up, and gave me that glorious German D. It felt like I was being fucked by King Kong on the top of the tower. Climax was reached and we romantically ventured back towards an ATM so he could pay the promised entry. I reached out and held his hand. I don’t need a reason but I did it because it was 5.30am, I had just been fucked over a scaffolding, and I had the scientifically proven post bang feels! Well he totally flipped out, he removed his had and told me that was way too relationshipy.
You’re probably thinking that’s a good indication for me to ditch this twat, but the two acts that followed allowed me to happily ignore the warning bells:
1. My Mum hired the German to paint my apartment and for four days we were at my place, me pottering around and him painting. I felt like a cute domesticated couple. I would sneakily take pictures of his hulk arms working that roller. When I could no longer bare watching his hot bod I swiftly undid his tradie pants and sucked on his dick like a Calippo.
2. He and I organised with two of my friends to hike Wilsons Prom. To prepare, we drove to the You Yangs for a practise hike. I crashed the car and had a complete panic attack. Crashes are bloody scary, plus it wasn’t even my car. Immediately on impact I started to wail. He had never seen me so vulnerable, but he instinctively grabbed me, told me it was fine and all that mattered was we were okay. He held and soothed me, told me I had five minutes left of being sad and then I had to start smiling again. His comfort changed me from a Negative Nancy into an Optimistic Ovaltinie.
I was obsessed with this yo-yo of a man.
Two days after the car incident I was out with my favourite feral lady friends. At 5am the girls called it a night but I wanted to solider on. I messaged the German and found out he was at Revs, trending theme here, maybe good things don’t happen at Revs? I went alone and as the Angel on my shoulder, who had been warning me not to go, had predicted, he was not entirely impressed at my gatecrashing ‘his’ night. I didn’t care, his friends loved me and I’m a fucking fun time. I was dancing away when I noticed him flirting with a girl with a beautiful back. I’m grateful I only saw her beauty from behind, not her face. My stomach instantly dropped out of my ass. His friends realised I was witnessing my own nightmare, and did their best to distract me. Not being able to handle it, I turned and went to leave.
Once I’d reached the exit I thought, Fuck This! I marched back and quickly found him, he’s a giant. I told him I can’t bare to see him flirting, that I know we’re not in a relationship but we’re going hiking in two days, and if he sleeps with her I wont be able to handle it. He was furious at me. How dare I tell him what he can and cannot do. I’m not his girlfriend. I acknowledged that I wasn’t, but told him “if you respect me, you wont do this.”
We went back upstairs, mind you at this point it was about 7am, I don’t know what I thought would happen, but I definitely wasn’t prepared for what did. I saw him walk straight back to the girl with the beautiful back and whisper in her ear. He then went over to his friends and I knew in that moment he was saying goodbye, he was going to go home with her. I felt like someone had just stabbed me in the heart. He turned towards me and approached me with his palms turned out in what felt like a symbolic ‘sorry, but this is happening.’ And well, I lost it.
After they left I hid in the smokers area, too afraid of seeing them catch a taxi together. Once I felt they would definitely be gone I ran downstairs, barely making it to the door before crumbling like a sad shortbread, the bouncers looked at me with pity and concern, asking if I was okay. I spluttered yes and collapsed into a taxi. The second I opened my front door I wailed and wailed. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I tried to roll myself a joint, I’m not the best roller though, so it was loose as fuck. When I lit it up, it caught on fire and nearly burnt off my eyebrows. I managed to get down a few drags and passed out.
When I eventually awoke, I had three missed calls from him. He was asking if I was still coming to the party we had planned to go to that day. He actually did that. I replied in the tone of Satan herself, that no, I would not be attending.
My friends came like an army, furious on my behalf, and armed ready to pick up my tear soaked crumbs.
The next day I called him to say he couldn’t come hiking tomorrow. And so followed four days of broken heart rehab at Wilsons Prom National Park.
That hike was one of the most physically, mentally, and emotionally challenging journeys I have ever taken. My two accompanying friends recount to me that they couldn’t get a word out of me on the first day. I was a robot, totally numb. My mind was playing a vicious game of tennis, one side was Sharapova, an angry wailer playing for ME and my respect. The other side Hewitt, saying “come onnnn,” forgive the German. I kept switching from Hewitt desperately wanting him there, literally imagining that he was next to me whilst we walked, like a fucking ghost haunting me, to Sharapova screaming “YOU DO NOT DESERVE A MAN WHO CAN MAKE YOU FEEL THIS SHIT.”
The battle went on and on and I didn’t know who would win. Then, half way through the second day of inland terrain we came to the ocean. I dropped my bags, stripped off my clothes and ran into the beautiful blue sea. I dived under a wave and felt a cleanse wash over me. I knew that Sharapova was going to win. I looked at the endless blue stretching around me and knew I deserved love and devotion not rejection and humiliation.
I took this strength of mind and ran with it. Yes Hewitt continued to pop up, but I could feel myself getting stronger and more capable of squishing him.
On my last night I wrote the German a three page letter, which I never intended to deliver. I poured out my soul, I folded it up and went back to my wonderful, supportive friends for a delicious Dhaal in the stunning surroundings of Wilsons Prom. Nature and my friends had picked up my crumbled body, bandaged it all back together, and started the cleansing of my mind.
On the drive back to Melbourne I felt like a new person. Ready to tackle whatever this wonderful, but sometimes unpredictable world has to throw at me next.