I‘m unsure as to whether this is a diary, a journal or a blog.
I’m 24 now, I feel too old to be calling my writing a diary and a journal just sounds a bit senseless.
I had a journal once. It was called ‘Totally Me,’ and was basically a book about how ‘beautiful, fabulous and popular’ I was. I was in fact none of these things. I guess I should start with my name? So I’m Sian. My father wanted to call me Ceri, but luckily my mother managed to haggle that name out. It’s my second middle name though, so I guess I’m not that lucky. Instead I got stuck with a name that means ‘God is gracious.’ Now I don’t really believe in God,unless I’m doing one of my rare prayers when I really want something. It’s as if I expect God to turn around and say; ‘Hello Sian, I shall grant you that holiday competition you’ve entered into, speak to you again in a couple of years, look after yourself now.’
I’m going to start my woeful love life story from last night, because that is when I had my empowering Beyonce epiphany moment under the stars. Now the stars have always been something I’m completely fascinated by. Not fascinating enough to actually learn about them or anything, just fascinating in the sense that they are marvelous to look at. Especially if you are with someone and you run out of things to say, you can just point out to a star and say something like, ‘oh that’s an awfully bright one over there isn’t it?’ The two of you can look at the star in silence, pretending the time you’re spending together isn’t in fact awkward as hell.
I guess I should quickly mention that my ex-partner of three years left me at Christmas (literally, at Christmas the bastard), and I later found out he cheated on me. He’s now with the fabulous human that he left me for, so my life has been one heck of an emotional joke since. I’ll dabble into that story another time though. So last night I found myself being the super stalker, obsessive ex that everyone has dipped their toes into once or twice in their lifetime. I ended up craving the loathsome taste of a cigarette, which is ironic as I quit two years ago and preached to everyone who smoked how vile they were. I’ve been having the odd pack of two (weekly) for a few weeks now with the promise that ‘this is my last one.’ I now have to ration my milk, and pray that my bread doesn’t go moldy until pay-day, as I spent my last ten pounds of cigarettes. Maybe I’ll do one of my infamous prayers tonight and hope I find a great big wad of cash waiting for me on the front door mat in the morning.
Anyway, I drove to my friend Chris’s in the end at eleven pm at night. I hadn’t seen him in a long time, plus I knew he would have a cigarette or two waiting for me. We drove to a mountain we once went to when we briefly dated back when we were sixteen, again, I’ll elaborate on that chapter of my life another time. The view-point we hoped to park up to and star gaze was gated off for the night, so we pulled up in the cafe car park and left the car. We sat on a wall where the sound of a nearby river ambled behind us, and the stars were beginning to display themselves. Now Chris is one of those rare people who can make you laugh until you can’t laugh anymore. Between the laughing and me calling out to the birds, we were causing quite a loud scene. Not that there was anyone around to make a scene, or so we thought.
I wrote that as if some tragic event is about to unfold, nothing spectacular happened, no sudden meteor hit Earth, no tribe appeared from the trees. A security guard came up to us was all, I should have got straight to the point really. He must have thought we were there to frolic bless his soul, because he informed us that there was a security camera watching us that detected movement. He then suggested we drive down to a ‘quieter, darker and secluded area’ down the road to finish our business. Safe to say, I didn’t take his kind suggestion to have a passionate midnight sex session in the car, but instead we drove back to Chris’s where he played my favourite piano piece on his keyboard. The battery died a few moments in, but the gesture was there. We set up camp on the balcony with two bean bags, a warm blanket and a black fruit cider between us. It was quite the white trash experience.
Fast forward some more talking, fast forward a couple of cigarettes and laughing later, and we were lying down on the bean bags, with Chris’s arm around me, watching the stars (or lack of, as the upstairs neighbours was balcony was blocking my damn view). If we were a couple, it would have been an extremely romantic moment, a selfie worthy time. But between two former flames now turned good friends, it began to feel as though we were stepping over the friendship boundaries line. Now I’ve been dating someone since my ex left, well, it’s more like casual sex than dating – mostly as we both haven’t taken a slight bit of interest into how the other one is, unless it involves us meeting up and creating the act of seduction. But still, as I lay in Chris’s arms, I felt the slight twang of guilt creep up on me. It didn’t creep up enough on me to actually move, but it was there. So as Chris started to ramble shit about some festival he was going to, I ended up thinking about my life. It was almost like the seven minutes flashing in front of your eyes that you read about when you die, but way less interesting. Instead it was me thinking over all the assholes I had encountered upon this year.
First there was my wonderful piece of shit ex. Next was a guy who had a girlfriend. I bought him back to mine after a night out, told him that nothing would be happening between us because he had a girlfriend (although we did make out a little). The next day he bought me a large pizza, and more or less straight after I finished my last bite, I said the dog needed walking and took him home. Shortly after him was a guy I’ll call Peter. We only hung out twice and he told me he was single. It was super fucking awkward when his apparent ex-girlfriend turned up at the house, and I was upstairs in the bedroom listening to the two of them argue and cry. I had bought my dog Millie to hang out as well, so getting her to stay quiet was an absolute hoot. I even hugged the guy afterwards as he was telling me how much he missed his ex when she had left. I’ll go into this story another time perhaps. Anyway, Peter told me that he loved me. I said it back out of sheer politeness. Then there was my one night stand in a hotel. After that night, I really contemplated what I was doing with my life. The only answer I could come up with, was that I was being a little slutty. I haven’t gone out clubbing since. Then there is my wonderful casual friend. That actually ended last night, I guess we both weren’t feeling it.
Good god, reading back on all these men, I feel a bit like J-lo, but instead of being from the block, I sound as if I’ve been around the block a fair few times.
Going back to lying under the stars, I was lying there thinking about these men. I asked myself, am I really looking for someone, or am I just looking for someone to love me and fill the void. We all feel that way after a breakup don’t we? That we so desperately need to prove to ourselves that we are wanted by someone. I think that’s why I met up with a fair few men this year, I was desperate for one of them to want me. It’s funny how we think that by someone else paying us attention, that this will magically vanish away all our problems, all our feelings for our ex-partners, all our self loathing and ‘what if’ thoughts. It was in that moment that I thought to myself; ‘Do you know what, I do not want, nor do I need a man.’
If you have recently come out of a breakup, read that line over and over again until it’s like a little seed planted in your head. It has taken me almost five months to feel okay about living on my own for the first time in three years. It has taken me almost five months to learn my self-worth. It has taken me almost five months to realise, the only person I need for my own happiness, is me.
Until next time,