I knew something was wrong as soon as he left for the airport. I have this knack of knowing things, like a gut feeling that has never let me down yet. But I pushed it to the back of my mind and tried to convince myself everything was ok. The first day he hardly text me unless I text him, when I asked why he said it was because he was trying to keep the mobile bill down, I could see his point, the last one was high after his previous trip and we could hardly afford it. But deep down I knew something wasn’t right.
The next day I was sat at work thinking things over and I knew I needed to speak to him about why he was being so cold. The mobile bill thing was rubbish, he never cared about bills all he ever cared about was us speaking to each other and he always made an effort to go out of his way to say he loved me. So I went home on my lunch break and called him.
He was distant, and I couldn’t get him to talk. When I asked him if he was ok he just said ‘yeah’ when I asked what was wrong he wouldn’t say anything. I don’t know what made me do it but in the end I just blurted out ‘you don’t want to be with me anymore do you?’ I never expected his reply to be ‘No’.
After that a lot of it became a blur. I remember falling to the floor, my phone falling from my hands. I could hear his muffled cries coming from my mobile as I lay slumped in the corner crying harder then I ever had. In the end I cancelled the call, I didn’t want to hear anymore.
I don’t remember a lot of what happened after that, I know my mom and sister came round so I must have called them. We sat and chatted for ages and my mom couldn’t believe that he was telling me the truth, she thought he was confused, that I just needed to speak to and make him see, after all no one saw it coming let alone me.
Whether right or wrong, the belief that I could change his mind made me feel better and if nothing else it got me through another two days until he came home.
The day he was due back I spent time cleaning the house making it look lovely and homely, I lit some candles, I made an effort to look nice, wearing my best clothes, anything to make him realise he still wanted to be with me.
When he walked in he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulder, he looked tired and beaten.
We sat and talked for ages, I can’t remember what was said but he was adamant that he wanted us to spilt up. I kept asking why, he said he didn’t know, it just didn’t feel right anymore. I asked him over and over if there was anyone else and he denied it again and again to the point where I had to believe him.
My emotions were all over the place from then on. I went from a crying, broken mess to the most level headed person on the planet drawing up lists of things that had to be sorted out within ten minutes. For the first few days I think I still believed he would change his mind, as he couldn’t give me a straight reason why I thought I had something to work on. Then a week later the biggest blow of all hit me. He had met someone else.
He denied he was the reason we split up but I knew it was a lie. He had met him weeks before at MY birthday night out (three weeks before my actual birthday), his name was Will.
I was still living at the house, I had all but decided I was going back to my moms but actually doing it was proving a task. When my birthday arrived a couple of weeks later I was far from looking to celebrate, my mom, dad and sister where away in London watching a show (they offered to cancel but I wouldn’t let them) and J agreed to spend the day with me before we went ourselves that night to see Saturday Night Fever with friends, something that had been booked for months. We went shopping to spend some money I had been given and although he was with me, he was constantly on the phone, walking off making calls. He said it was his friend Sarah but I knew it was Will.
On the way home he asked me if I minded if he went out to the pub for a few hours before we went to the show. Again he wouldn’t say that it was with him but I knew it was. This was when I lost my rag. It was bad enough that I had lost my boyfriend, I was losing my house, my cat, my dog, the life I had known for two years. My family were away, I was alone and he wanted to go to his new shag on MY birthday. I was so angry, I threw things, at walls, at him. I said I didn’t want to go to the show, apparently I was being stupid. I told him to either cancel it or take him because by the time he got back I wouldn’t be there.
He went to the pub anyway.
I didn’t know what to do so I went out in the car and just drove. I ended up at his mom and dad’s, I knew only his brother was in. We sat and chatted for ages and I felt better just for getting things off my chest. I was there for hours and by the time I got home he was waiting for me, panicked that I wasn’t going to turn up. I only went because our friends were coming as well and I didn’t want to let them down.
He spent all night on the phone to HIM.
I remember trying to pack my things up, it took me hours because I couldn’t stop crying, often so hard I couldn’t breathe. Everything held a memory and it was so hard to put that in a cardboard box and seal the lid.
The first night at my moms I found myself sleeping in a single bed in a room no bigger than a bathroom, but for the first time in weeks at least I felt safe.
I kept my house key as I was still paying half the mortgage until we had settled and sorted everything (he was buying me out of my half) and as I worked in the area I popped back every other day to see the cat and dog and to collect my mail. I had told J that under no circumstances while I was paying the mortgage was HE to step foot in my house, he could carry out his little affair elsewhere.
One day one of my appointments at work cancelled so I decided to go to the house a little earlier than normal. As I pulled up Will’s car was on the drive. I suddenly felt sick and I was tempted to drive past but then I thought, no its my house and I have every right to be there. So I parked and went to the door but I couldn’t use my key because there was a key already in the lock. I banged the door and I could hear the dog barking outside. Eventually HE answered the door just wearing a towel. He looked at me like I was a piece of shit, as if I had no right to be at MY house, MY property. I barged past and went straight upstairs and called J from the house phone. He answered obviously expected it to be HIM. We had a terrible row but he wouldn’t accept that it was wrong for HIM to be in the house, I was being unfair and stupid.
This is, out of anything I have ever done, the thing I regret the most. I wish I had thrown him out in just his towel. I wish I had thrown all of his things out the bedroom window or put them in the bath with a bottle of bleach. I wish I had slashed his tires. I wish I had called the police and said there was someone in my house who shouldn’t be. I wish, I wish, I wish…
Instead I left and went back to work, angry, upset but above all else hurt. Hurt that someone who proclaimed to love me could have me treated in this way and see me so broken.
A few months later everything was finally sorted and it was time for me to hand my keys in. I had one last look around the house, stood in the garden where I had spent many happy hours having BBQ’s or just playing with the dog, looked out my front window to the old lady across the road who used to lend us her strimmer. I was trying to lay to rest my past demons to be honest I didn’t feel like my house anymore, I needed to let go now and close this chapter of my life. When I locked the door and posted my keys through the letter box I cried but I knew it was for the best.
I have since made my peace with J and I appreciate that the whole thing was hard for him to, just in a different way. I don’t hate him and I wish him all the luck in the world. I have moved on, it wasn’t easy and it didn’t happen over night but I’m happy now.
I may have only left that relationship with two grand and a cutlery set but at least I had my self respect and dignity and no one can ever put a price on that!
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