I feel like the last time I made post on here I was so fake and not real. I wasn’t telling you guys the truth and I wasn’t letting myself accept the truth. You all had no idea what was going on with me, and in turn I didn’t want to come on here. But today I will squash this wall I’ve made with all of you, and tell you what was really happening.
When I started this blog and began writing, I had a boyfriend. I had been with him since I was 17, a senior in high school. We went to prom together, he was in the audience during my graduation. He was the first guy I said “I love you” to. I lost my virginity to him, we had a pregnancy scare, and we spent as much time as we could together. He was there for me during my first year of university. During the times I didn’t think I could make it he kept pushing me to keep going.
He was the first guy I wanted to spend my life with, he and I talked about moving in together and getting married and having kids and this was all before we hit a year together. Then a year passed by, and he fell more madly in love with me. And I fell into a fear of spending my life with the same person. The truth is, after a year of being together I was no longer in love with him. It was hard to admit to myself, but the signs were all there.
I didn’t want to see him anymore. I tried to get scheduled to work on weekends so I didn’t have to see him. When he kissed me, I felt uncomfortable. I didn’t want him to hold my hand. When we would have sex, I found myself of trying to imagine having sex with someone else to get me to actually enjoy the sex. I didn’t love him anymore, but I didn’t want to be alone.
I started to freak out of the idea of not having a boyfriend. I had grown so used to the routine I couldn’t picture my life without having someone to talk to everyday. That was another problem I found myself in; he was the only person I talked to. I didn’t go out with friends anymore. I didn’t text friends anymore. He didn’t like the idea of me being friends with people- with guys especially. He wanted me all to himself, and I felt lonely in the relationship.
I would tell him I feel so alone, and he would be so upset that I felt that way. But I was alone, I was alone and single while not being single. And when I realized that it made it so much easier to accept the fact that I wanted to be single. So for the next several months I distanced myself from him and became my own person. In my head I was single, I wasn’t tied to someone anymore. I got over the fear I had over him and stood up for myself. I got into arguments and got mad and hoped he would see I was just so fucking over him.
I was over him before I left him. I was feeling confident again, I was liking the attention other MEN gave me. I capitalize men because I wanted a man. I didn’t want someone who made me make every decision for him. I wanted a grown man who had their shit together and knew what they wanted. I was tired of acting like the mother that he had; I didn’t want to take care of him anymore.
No, I didn’t cheat on him, but believe me I really wanted to. Was that selfish of me? Sure maybe I don’t know and I don’t care. I wanted to be loved by someone who didn’t see me as the person who could fix everything. I wanted someone to see me as me, not all the things I could do for them.
I couldn’t take it anymore, this whole acting single when I technically wasn’t. So a couple of weeks ago I finally sat him down and I told him I wanted out. That I didn’t love him anymore and that I wanted to break up. It was plain, clear, and simple. I cried that night, not because I would miss him, but because I should have done it sooner. I put myself through hell over a simple fear of not having someone by my side to talk to.
I am now changed, I am happier and confident and excited to live my life. My attitude is much better, and I’m excited to see what the universe throws at me. This is the new me, this is who I am. Things only get better from here.