Chapter 2 – the love stories

So, while I was dating the man from Chapter 1, I was obviously still at school. I was on the shooting team at school, along with the most gorgeous of men (then boy I guess). He and I flirted a lot, but I had a boyfriend, so it never went further than that. Then one night, about a month or two after ending things with Chap 1, I saw this boy from school. He was looking as gorgeous as ever. He was kind of seeing someone (read: sleeping with someone). But, he broke it off with her, and then he and I started dating. It was an amazing time for me! Being with someone who would flirt with me, who told me all the time how beautiful I was, how amazing I looked and basically just how fantastic I was. He used to flirt with me constantly. It was, well, the only word to describe it is WOW!! We could get enough of each other. And then… his ex girlfriend (not the one he was kinda seeing – this was the girl that he was seeing before her) came back into the picture (Lets call her Mary). She was older than we were. And she was great friends with his mom. Now, his mom thought I was fantastic compared to the girl he had been sleeping with before I came on the picture, she once said something along the lines of “I’m so glad that you’re seeing my son, that other girl was dirty. Such a slut.” So there was Mary, spending time with the mom – obviously at his house, because he still lived at home, and the mom started trying to hook the two of them back up. Which of course meant that I was a third wheel. Man this woman was mean. I had never ever in my life had someone dislike me so much. I was flawed. Needless to say, this quickly put a damper on Chap 2 and I. His mom would be mean about me, to my face, but of course not when he was around. So he didn’t get it. I remember the one day, she phoned me on my home phone, and just started shouting and screaming at me (oh, this was after Chap 2 and I had a major argument about his mother, and he then went to stay with a friend of his for a few days to get away from both of us…). I honestly tried to talk to her. I did. But she wouldn’t listen to a word I was saying. So I calmly put the phone down on the counter and walked away. She was still shouting about 10 minutes later… and that was the last time I checked. I don’t know what she did when she heard I wasn’t listening. Obviously she couldn’t call back because the phone was off the hook. So through this and because of this, he and I were still seeing each other, but not as much of each other and I certainly wasn’t welcome at his house. He didn’t have a car, so if I wanted to see him, I had to fetch him. Bearing in mind that it was 30 kilometres (not sure what that is in miles) from my house to his, and my work was also 30km’s away – but in a completely different direction to him. So if I wanted him to come and spend the night, then I had to drive 60km’s to fetch him from home, then another 30km’s to get us to my place, and then I would need to drop him off again. It was around about this time that we stopped seeing each other on the weekend. He wanted to spend time with his friends and family… and well, I wasn’t welcome with the family… so we did our own things on the weekend… After a while, I started feeling like a booty call. So again. I walked away. But this time, I had been the one screaming and shouting at him. He was quiet. The roles had been reversed. I realised that sex wasn’t about manipulating the other person into doing something. It was because there was an attraction. It was because 2 people wanted it. I also realised that I was never very high on his priority list of people that he had to please. He had fun with me. But that’s where it ended. By the time I walked away, I’d heard rumours that he was already dating someone else. Which he of course denied… but it was told to me by a person who had no reason to lie. Nothing to gain from telling me of this. To try and explain the unbelievable feeling of being swept of your feet… and then to be dropped again when there’s something better in sight? Hard. But that is how I felt then. But I also knew that I no longer loved him. I no longer respected him. And again, I had stopped respecting myself – for allowing myself to be treated that way. It was time. And I moved on.