Week Night Wine Drunk

I held it together all day. Pretended I was okay. Pretended like I didn’t care. But the truth is, I checked every hour to see if he’d been online.

When I got home, I tried to distract myself with a million little jobs. I made some shelves. I thought about working out. But when I sat down to take my shoes off, I cried on my bed instead. 

Then I cried while I ate cheese and salami and baked a pizza.I drank a bottle and a half of wine and ended up talking to a guy from school, the same guy who ignored my boundaries just days ago. Because in a messed-up way, it felt like validation. Like… okay, it didn’t work with one guy, but at least someone else still wants me. I wont lie though, He scored back points this time.

Weeknight wine drunk is how I've been coping with my problems of late. And maybe that makes me sound like an alcoholic, but it feels… cleansing. It feels like after a few large glasses of wine, singing at the top of my lungs and having a cry on the floor I can move on with my life. 

I deleted some things—no actually it has been a few hours and I can say that I have in fact deleted everything that I can delete. It's enough that when he does check in, all he gets is videos of him wanking. Maybe he will notice, but I have a feeling he won’t care. I don’t understand how we could be so close to having everything, for almost a year, and then he just disappears like I meant nothing. No falling out. No “I’m seeing someone else.” Just gone.

I can’t face everyone. I can’t tell them how I fucked up. I told them I thought he’d come to see me. I thought it was real. I got excited and shared that and now I feel like a fool, And it hurts so fucking much. Even as I write this, I still want his name to pop up on my phone. I Just want one message. Even if its the same bullshit one he’s been sending me for months:“Oi.

Followed by me, scrambling for something to say to keep the conversation alive. He once told me I never listen to him— but the truth is, I pretended to forget just so I’d have something to ask him when things went quiet. I’m starting to wonder if the only reason we ever talked was because I made the effort.

I know my worth. But sometimes someone comes along and plants a seed of doubt. Still, deep down, I know: I’m a catch. I show up in relationships. I love hard. I care deeply. I’m loyal as hell. Even when I’m spiralling, I’m worth someone’s love. And yet… I still want to cry. Because I miss him. And deleting all the photos and videos feels so final.

I remember the way he held me. His smile. The way his lips felt on mine. But then I remember— he’s giving that same smile to other girls and holding them the way he held me. That’s the memory I need to hold onto.

I once had a tarot reading about him. She told me he was wasting my time— and he’d waste the time of the next girl, and the next one. Maybe she was right. I think the fact that i had to ask a tarot reader what was going on is answer enough.

This fuckboy with good manners had me wrapped around his little finger. He knew exactly what to say to get me to do 1000km round trip just to suck his dick. He acted like I was special— but I bet he said the same thing to the cleaning lady, the crazy lady, the Easter weekend lady, and every girl in between. I was just the one he paraded around town. Probably the best-looking one, obviously. He likes to look good. “Youre Rolling with royalty,” he would say to me like I was lucky to have him on my arm. Like Im not royalty myself?

If he ever bothered to step into my world, he’d know I’m as much of a prize as he thinks he is. Except with me, it wouldn’t just be a thought in his head— people would tell him to his face: “She’s amazing. That girl can sing. She writes like a kid out in the rain. You should see her perform!” I’m a fucking catch. And he knew it. But he wasn’t man enough to claim me.

So yeah, maybe I’m weeknight wine drunk tonight. But this is me, cleansing. Getting him out of my system. Tomorrow, those videos will be gone. And when he sits in the silence he created and looks for me, I won’t be there. I’ll be waiting for the man who makes me feel everything I thought I had with him and more. The guy who tells his friends he’s proud to be my boyfriend. Who thinks I’m incredible, even when I’m a mess. Who hugs me when I cry and tells me it’s okay to speak up. Who listens. A man who wants to hear my stories. Who watches me perform every time because each time is magic. Not “seen one, seen them all.”

God, what a fool I was.

Maybe I’ll be this stupid again who knows. I try to see the best in people. And I saw the best in him. Probably the parts only his mum gets to see. And he let me see it. He let me into his circle. He said he trusted me when he didn't trust anyone but then he would meet someone with bigger tits, someone who probably gave him what I couldn’t. Even though I tried. I tried so hard to give him everything he wanted. To make him want me in the same way. But I wasn’t enough and thats not my fault, its his.