18 Years Part 1

The mysterious vampire who's inexplicably drawn to her or the brooding werewolf who is always there but never noticed. The sweet guy in the friend zone who's been under the radar for years or the sexy bad boy who's charming arrogance secretly intrigues her. To walk down the aisle out of duty to your family or run off with the peasant hottie who brushes the horses. A life long friend desperately in love with you or a narcissistic sexy billionaire who 'loves' you. There's always some beautiful misunderstood girl torn between two guys, and guess who she always chooses.... the bad boy. The bad boy who suddenly changes his ways due to her unwavering understanding and 'ability to see the real him'. Suddenly he's not a player because he's never behaved this way with any other girl. Or he's hooked because she sees through his shit and pushes him away until he breaks down her walls with his charm. Blah, blah, blah they run off into the sunset together happy little ending. #eyeroll.

This is not a reality. It's not. That is the shit movies and novels feed our brains and rot our perception of love like sugar to teeth. You're probably reading this pessimistic rant thinking that you already know it's not real and you're smarter than those movies, they're just light-hearted entertainment to make you smile. This chick is so negative.

No, I'm a realist.

The truth is that it's affected our brains long before we know it. It gets in there when we're young and sculpts how we see love. That is why everyone has been hurt by a 'bad boy'. We think they will change for us.

And those bad boys us wishful women manage to change into the ultimate boyfriend are rare. Very, very rare. Like Unicorns. They exist, they're just in hiding. Snaps for the women who have achieved that, because you are superwomen, or you found your soulmate and never gave up. I genuinely applaud you for it.

This is my experience, my very own 'bad boy', who isn't a bad guy, just bad in the way he loved me.

I knew my 'bad boy' wouldn't change, it just took me 18 years to admit it to myself. It's not that I didn't believe in his ability to change, I just knew I wasn't the one to inspire it. Because, and let's be real honest here, if I were the one to capture his heart enough for such a thing then it would have already happened by now. And after over half my life of chances and energy and hurt and tears poured into our love that never got a chance, I was done.

How did I get to this point?

Let's go back to the tender age of 14. At my first house party, with friends, getting drunk off 2 Lemon Ruski's, yeah they were the days. Somebody came up to me and said, "*Jonathan is outside he wants to talk to you". Being the naive tween that I was I got all excited about some mysterious guy wanting to meet me. Now I look back and realise I was being summoned. But hey, little me was excited. I went outside to the front of the house. I don't remember a lot but I do remember my heart in my throat and an excited smile on my face that I was struggling to hide. Then was a surreal moment in time I barely remember yet will never forget. The air between us was pulsing with electricity, our bodies instantly pulled together, and awkward excited giggles and flirting between kissing. Epic make-out sesh. His smile and laugh were the most beautiful things and his big brown eyes drew me in with an intense look that seemed to bore right into me. I was under his spell. It was euphoric. My first love. And despite the rest of the story, and what you might think, we truly had a very deep connection from the first moment we saw each other. At least that is how I see it all. Something I can only begin to explain now, and even then it's only guessing. Something in the universe bound our souls, and I guess that's what makes this whole story a big one. We were too young to understand, but it was there, and it was a big force beyond our control.

What we each chose to do with it.... well, that WAS in our control and has possibly been the longest lesson in my life.

I would like to say now before I tell the rest of the story that I did a lot of things wrong when it came to him. I reacted, diverted, hurt, replaced, blocked, confronted, enticed, used, clung to, hated and completely blamed him for my problems for most of my life without really looking at my own behaviour. In turn, he enticed, avoided, lied, blocked, used, ghosted, played and gaslit me to escape his own problems and himself. Looking back on all our childishness I feel sad thinking that we both could have tried better and done a little better for the other.

So back to the story.....

After that night any chance I could manage to see him I took. And seeing as how we were both trapped in the Monday to Friday grind of high school life it wasn't difficult to see him daily. Before classes, lunchtimes, and the part I looked forward to most in my day, the bus home. Whoever got on first would save the seat for the other, which seemed to become habitual stress for me. The whole thing became an anxiety-ridden event that seemed to define my day. I was always tense to get to the bus, get that free seat, and was totally gutted if on the odd occasion we didn't get to sit next to each other. He would flirt incessantly with me and I would absorb his attention and compliments like a drug. Yes, it was my drug and I was wayyy down the rabbit hole. I guess a teenage girl smack in the middle of her parent's divorce was a gullible and willing participant, and his cocky young ego thrived off my adoration.

My group of friends sat near his at lunchtimes, and I would always try and position myself so that I could see him without 'looking' at him with my sunnies on. He always knew I was looking at him because he was always watching me back. It's embarrassing now I think about it! Seriously girl, so childish.

Sometimes at the end of breaks, he would wait and walk with me to class, and those precious 2 minutes always made me so happy. I would bound off to class with a huge smile on my face.

Then there was the very rare occasion I would be called over to where he was sitting, yep summoned again, thinking I was so special being requested by the prince, how my inner feminist groans at such an unknowing act of handing over my power. But I was young, and a gorgeous man paid all the attention in the world to me, made me feel like I was the only girl in the whole world, that he was in love with me, that I was the most beautiful thing in his eyes, that I was all that mattered to him. And I ate it up every day, using that as my happiness, allowing it to fill my head and my tender little heart with butterflies and love. It was my drug, my escape from my shitty reality. If I didn't get it my day was a disappointment, lacking in that thing that kept me going, whenever my secret drug addiction wasn't around I was lost. When he didn't pay attention to me in the usual manner I hurt, when he flirted with other girls to make me jealous, the wound he created inside went just that little bit deeper, when he fed me lies to cover his tracks, I ate them up and ignored the truth, desperately trying to focus on the good in a toxic person.

At this point, I think it's fair to say that I was completely innocent in the way that I hadn't done anything wrong by him and had given him all I had in my heart. What he did to me wasn't fair and wasn't honest, and I was always so confused by his conflicting behaviours. Playa. He though he was so great. In his defence, he has apologised many times for how he acted in school and admitted what he did to me was wrong, but it took me years to accept that apology.

I realise now looking back on this unhealthy habit I started so long ago, that I continued this behaviour through my entire dating life and life in general. I had created a way to rely on others to fill the void and escape the shitty things happening in my life that created pain as a coping mechanism. I wish I had never started it in the first place. I was a girl lost in a world of teenage problems, parents who hated each other, disdain for the school system, bitchy friends, body issues, it goes on. I did it to myself, but he chose to betray my trust.

My Mum once told me that she remembers clearly the day I 'changed'. I came home from school, dark cloud over my head and stormed straight past her to my room. Apparently, from that day on, I lost my 'sparkle'.

It took me years to figure out the day she was describing. Now I remember it, the day he first broke my heart. My first real heartbreak. He had finally, FINALLLYYYY asked me to be his girlfriend after a ridiculous amount of our little routine went on, months and months. The HAPPIEST day of my entire life. The hero in my eyes wanted me to be his, me, gangly awkward unpopular little me. I felt so much happiness I think I'm yet to rival that innocent giddy feeling. Guess what he did the next day at school, dumped me. "It's not you, it's me, I just don't want a relationship right now, I'm so sorry" blah fucken blah. I felt like someone had punched me with all their strength right into my chest. I couldn't breathe, standing there like a total idiot feeling stupid as fuck, a huge lump in my throat, desperately trying not to let him see me cry. I don't remember my response but I was angry and walked off. I remember coming home and being done with life. Fed up with everyone telling me they loved me yet treating me like shit, hurting me, hurting each other, stamping on my sparkle. That always positive, always happy, always laughing and smiling girl had reached her breaking point. I let it all get to me, smother me, break me. I think that was the day my trust in people finally died. I was 14.

That weekend my friend had a massive party on her families property, and guess who rocked up with their new girlfriend. Yep. Some sour-faced mole who looked like she was too good to be there. Pretty, long hair, tanned. Some older chick from the next town's high school. I saw them and stormed off chugging down my blueberry UDL, so angry and hurt and gutted I wanted to smash the world down around me. I went marching up the driveway where my best friend saw me and came running over to comfort me, he already seemed to know what was wrong, but wasn't prepared for a sobbing teenage girl. *Jonathan came running up the driveway after me. The details are a little foggy as it was a very long time ago, but I know I was sobbing uncontrollably, and when I turned around and saw his panicked face I was filled with rage. I threw my drink at him and screamed at him, unleashing and probably saying "fuck you". I tried to get to him, I wanted to punch his fucking head in. I remember my friend holding his arms around me with all his strength as I tried to escape and run over to tear *Jonathon's face off. He looked shocked at my reaction, probably didn't want his new girlfriend to know about us or see the drama. I'm also guessing he had never bothered to think about how things affected me, how I felt, how much I adored him. He watched my heartbreak, right there in front of him on the dirt as I spat the pieces of my shattered little heart at him like shrapnel.

"This world can hurt you

It cuts you deep and leaves a scar

Things fall apart, but nothing breaks like a heart"

So true Miley Cirus, so dam true.

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(Photo by Ed Robertson on Unsplash)