Ex factor

I mentioned briefly on here before about meeting my ex on the bank holiday weekend coming up didn't I? I felt the need the other day to bleat on here about it, but was too tired, so this is more or less the running commentary in my head.

See this ex ... he doesn't feel like a normal ex. Not to me. I met him because he was Joanne's housemate. In fact, she, another girl, and another guy, had decided to live together and needed a fourth roommate. They all picked the rooms, then they picked him. So he got the dud room. Then I came over to Joanne's house, a good 200 miles away from my own uni, to go to a mcfly gig (rather than a dissertation meeting. God, no wonder I only left with a third with that attitude, right? My friends will always be most important to me though, them and my son.) The day before the gig, we went to their SU bar. This ex, who we'll call Pete for now, was the only housemate of Joanne's to come with us. I'd already stolen one of his pizza's, with Joanne's help, if I remember properly. Joanne sloped off to the loos and next thing I know, I'm making out with Pete. Fastest I've ever moved, and completely out of my normal behavioural patterns. Joanne had gone on purpose, 'to see what would happen'. Crafty.

I haven't really gone out with a lot of people. I mean, I've had a couple of boyfriends - fewer than my high school friends would have you believe - but before Pete came along, I'd been single a good 5 years. I tend to wait for someone special, rather than use dating as a crux - that's not meant as a dig at anyone, because no one who I know reads this blog behaves that way, but a lot of people I know are like that - anyway, when I have gone out with guys before ... it's a little like Carrie and Sebastian (now you have to read Carrie's Diaries, ha!). I kind of lose what intelligence I have. I think I have fat girl syndrome or something (OMFG, a guy likes me, he can have me!). Whatever. Pete was different to that end. When Joanne and I got back from the mcfly gig, we sat up with her housemates, and Pete got a full dose of zeeness. I think at one point I accused him of making me look up his nose. Anyway. Joanne had a go at him when we wanted to go to bed so he'd bugger off and let us sleep.

So we started talking when I was back in Lincoln, by text and email/msn (they didn't have facebook then. I don't think myspace had quite taken off either, but I could be mistaken) and I think I was back down there that weekend. My friend Jess, who when I see her I can't stop talking to (this also, rarely happens. We used to stand by the swans bay at Brayford pool in Lincoln and talk for like, three hours after lectures. Our chess games in the local Ottakars were legendary, especially when I lost and threw the pieces into the erotica section nearby), used to have such a go at me - this is our third year, got to apply myself, blahblahblah ... but I'm not sure she got it. She wasn't there the year before when I was trying to convince one of our friends not to off herself. She got on okay with our lecturers, I didn't. My other friend, Scott, was a lot more understanding, since he loathed the uni and we did our projects together, minimal efforts.

The first time I went to visit Pete and Joanne for Pete, they ended up screaming at each other in the local supermarket. Sign of things to come lol ... but that freaked me out. Because I couldn't see what it was they hated about each other, because I liked them both so much. And Joanne's one of my best friends, and she was sort of sticking up for me (this was back in the days when I was veggie, and about food. He still doesn't get the vegetarian thing) and they both walked away and I thought 'crap'. Because I was there for Pete but like I said, Joanne's my best friend. So I went after Pete, thinking, this is a new thing, and I'm going to make sure he knows just how wonderful she is. I think they agreed, not to get along, but to be civil.

God, Pete's uni room was crappy. It was by the bit they stored all the garden stuff in, or the ironing board and such. It smelt a little mildewy. He had a single, with the thinnest mattress ever. Towards the end of term, I used to just kick him out of bed and make him sleep on the floor. That's not to say I didn't love being there - it was the most I've seen any of the mcfans. And Pete was easy to talk to, be me around. I could be pretty honest with him (lol, when I met his parents on his birthday weekend, I decided not to have a starter when we went for dinner. When his mum objected he was like 'oh, if she wants something, she'll probably steal it off my plate'. I did. Two stuffed mushrooms. And I didn't even ask, lol). I'd like to think he was honest with me ... but who knows?

He knew a lot of girls. It didn't exactly put me off, but he talked to his exes. And I always wondered why - most of my exes don't live near me, and they were all pretty big jerks so there was never a reason to stay in touch - but if I asked questions, trying to fathom it out, he acted like I was jealous. I guess I was, but I just wasn't articulate enough to explain the aspect I was jealous of. I wasn't jealous they knew him, and still knew him after that time. I was jealous of his ability to stay in touch, to be that warm to someone after the relationship ended. I liked to think of it more as curiousity. Besides, we both knew that for some inexplicable reason, he liked me more than I liked him. And I liked him a lot ... it was just a fact that there was that incriment more on his side (I have theories about that, that relationships only really work if the guy's committed. If he doesn't love you more, he won't really be interested, and it'll be doomed. If a girl's doing all the legwork ... it's best to get out). I realise that this comes off as arrogant but it really wasn't. Maybe it's my sense of humour or something, he might not always have known where he stood on my radar as much as I knew where I was on his. A fact backed up by this one occasion, when I complimented him, and he basically told the entire village.

I mean, we had our ups and downs. Once or twice, he'd have a lecture and leave me in the house. If Joanne was in lectures too, I'd go through his books. If I did that, he knew I'd be unresponsive until I'd finished. He tried to put me off in 'Are You Dave Gorman?' by telling me what was coming. So I ignored him completely. He let me drag him to see Harry Potter 4 with Joanne and her boyfriend. He'd complain about Joanne occasionally, but I'd tell him to shut up - at least when we were going out, Joanne had the good grace to keep her opinions mainly to herself. I heard most of them after.

If we went to a restaurant, he'd get a little funny. I didn't have much money, since I'd had issues with my LEA (as I explained in my 'Catty' post) and he'd be like 'but I'm paying for you' so I'd order the cheapest thing on the menu, and stick to coke. He didn't, and bought beer. Fine, it's his money. But then he'd get the bill and be like 'ohhhh' and even though I spent £30 a time visiting him, and had next to no money, he'd guilt trip me into splitting the bill. I got so mad at him for doing that, because a pizza from Iceland is like, £2 and we would've probably had a better time making do in his room. But it was almost like sometimes, he wanted to forget he was still just a student. And he'd remember when we were charged.

We went to Paris just before Valentines day, since my 21st was a week before, and his was a few weeks away. For the most part it was good, we went up to the top of the Eiffel Tower, and walked around these garden things the other side of the seine. We rode on the metro to see this Beatles exhibition way over near Disneyland. But there was one bad moment ... we were eating one night and he started preaching all this stuff about vegetarians and how all the reasons they use for it are stupid and he couldn't see how much he was upsetting me. And then he realised he'd left his wallet in the hotel room and I had to use my card, which didn't have much money on. He couldn't see how upset I was with him, it was like he'd personally insulted me. I walked away from him, and he didn't try to cheer me up. It took me a long time to get over that, especially as his apology just made me feel worse. Because he just defended what he was saying and still didn't get why it was such a slap in the face.

To be honest, that's when we started going downhill. Maybe I just never got over being told my reasons for my life choices were a load of horseshit, to put it nicely. Maybe it grated on me a little that he thought he could have a go at my best friend whenever he wanted. I know I started acting off with him, even though I loved him. In a way I still kind of do (I tried to explain this theory to him recently and he was a little like 'but I'm with someone else, we can't happen' and I was going 'but I don't want to go out again, I just think once you love someone, that's it, you love them. If you say it, you've got to always mean it, otherwise it was never love' etc etc). I think I was in a mess anyway, with uni ending and having to go back to the job I'm in now. The job I could've had without my AS and A2 levels or my degree. And we had some good times between Paris and the five months later when we broke up - like when Joanne and Pete's friend down the street threw a chav party and we had a barbeque that wouldn't cook so 5 or 6 of us found forks and just ate this chocolate gataeux straight out of the box, or the trip to Eastbourne where we had the funniest night at the Toby Carvery, if I could just remember what was said. Or even just sitting in this weird nook in the cliffs and watching the jetskis half hidden by this bush, just talking. Going to a Kaiser Chief concert, and almost getting doinked by chavs who actually started a riot, then going to Bournemouth with my family next day.

I think my point was, I was getting cabin fever anyway. I'd always relied on my education because that was all that was pumped into me and it was the end of the road for my education and I really didn't know what I wanted to do - and I still don't. Writing is a lucrative hobby - I took a lot of it out on him. We used to talk about living together ... having kids together. I know I was starting to screw it all up. It was getting harder for us to see each other, he didn't like coming to Lincoln and I didn't have much more money, and when we talked online (since it was cheaper than texting) I was increasingly bitchy and sarcastic. I used to say to my friends I wanted to break up with him, but when reality came ... I didn't. We met up to talk about it, but the words didn't come. And when I thought they might, another girl texted him, asking to meet, and he ran off to the other side of London. I think he'd set it up before, a scapegoat in case it went wrong but ... that was when I knew I'd definitely messed it up enough to lose him. And whatever Joanne might think of him, that hurt. He did have his good points, even if I haven't expounded them up above very well (he was patient with me, he didn't laugh at my eccentricities ... these are golden points that just about wipe out him making me pay £15 I didn't have on food I didn't really want). I asked if she was his new girlfriend a little while later and he said no ... but within the month, they were going out.

And people at work knew we'd broken up. Someone started trying to matchmake me. I already knew from the shambles of the last few months with Pete that I wasn't ready to be with anyone, that I had so much to work through first before I went there. But I also knew that with the way my life was going, I didn't have much energy. I couldn't fight the matchmaking. I hit my own self-destruct button. I didn't really care what happened.

I got set up with a complete numpty. Not my usual type either, but not a patch on Pete. He acted about 5, and that suited me at the time. He was a horrible 'boyfriend'. We'd meet up, very occasionally, and when I suggested a hundred things to do, he'd shut off, then complain of being bored, and insisted I find something to do. Grrrrr - at least Pete was full of ideas and compromises. All Sam wanted to do was skateboard, play computer games, and be intimidated by this cow we know.

So it's really no surprise I ended up pregnant, right? I was punishing myself and Sam treated sex like a boredom filler, not that it was any good (I mean, Pete wasn't amazing either, but at least there was some connection there. Normally I don't talk about this sort of thing, because I don't want to know others love lives, but since I'm explaining how boy came to be ...). I wasn't surprised I was pregnant. I was surprised that was all Sam gave me, knowing the girls he's been with. He dumped me pretty much the moment I told him. He didn't say it, but gave me back half the DVD's and CD's I'd lent him (I got the rest back about 6 months ago. So when our son was about hitting the 2 mark). I told him, flat out, that the only way I'd consider abortion was if he said he wanted me to, otherwise boy was coming and it would get harder to deal with. He still didn't have the balls to talk to me, not even with that kind of an out. It was a complete blag anyway, since there was no way in hell I'd have one. Yes, I screwed up, I'd consciously screwed up, but if I erased my mistakes or didn't make the efforts to correct them I'd do it again. I kept my son and decided to raise him as well as possible, to make up for my 6 months of insanity. It's not the mistakes you make that make you who you are, but how you turn them around ...

... Sam still doesn't have anything to do with boy. He says his mother won't let him, but that's the biggest load I've heard. He's an adult, does his mothers opinion have that much weight? I tried to get him to see boy through a solicitor, but all they could do was set up CSA stuff.

At least I started talking to Pete again. I think he knows I was rebounding badly when I saw Sam, and I think he knows that's how boy came about, but we never talk about that. I like Pete better as a friend, it's easier to ignore the bad and enjoy the good. I don't have to worry about loyalties, because he knows Joanne comes first now, and I don't have to compromise on that. And we can talk and I'm a little better at standing up for myself, letting him know he's gone too far (even if it's said in a jokey way that sometimes he doesn't get right away) but I still haven't seen him face-to-face since boy and Sam. So next weekend is going to be so weird.

Sorry if I sounded callous with any of this. I'll probably delete it in a couple of days, regretting that it wasn't the 'I love Pete' fest I'd originally imagined it to be. I'll never tell boy that he was a rebound baby, an intentional mistake ... I love him too much for anything like that. If I have to lie and say I was desperate to have him before I got sick, I will.