A BOYFRIEND and I once decided that after five years of being together, we no longer felt the need to “do Valentine’s Day”. When February 14 came around, he didn’t do anything, as per the plan. We were in the car, and I thought he was joking. I had bought him a present because, like, obviously that was a joke…we weren’t ACTUALLY not doing Valentine’s Day?! That’s like when your parents say Santa isn’t going to bring you any presents this year. It’s a farce. Just something people say. But no, there were no presents. He had stuck to the plan. Naturally I cried, and then I dumped him.
All I have are my looks, charm, wit and a fairly high level of self-delusion. But that’s a lot more than you, and even I get my fair share of royal dumpings.
So if you’ve found yourself alone and horny this Valentine’s Day, don’t feel bad. It’s probably just because you’ve made poor life choices which have led you to this point. But that’s fine, because here are some of mine.
4. The One Who Wouldn’t Sleep With Me
The only thing I hate more than being hungry and denied access to food immediately is feeling starved of sex by the person I am seeing. At the rate this #MeToo movement is going, I’m probably one bad move away from being called out on Twitter……but I mean, if we can’t beat the horny harassers, maybe we should just join them? 🤷♀️
I’d been seeing a guy for two and half months and we still hadn’t banged. Outwardly, I was fine about it but inwardly I was kind of concerned. Despite the lack of physical fulfilment, I wouldn’t say we didn’t have chemistry. We weren’t in the friend zone, but we also weren’t in the bone zone. I didn’t really mind because it was a nice change, a shift of focus. He was incredibly emotional, lovely and supportive. Me being the the kind, patient, empathetic person I am, was willing to wait… at least two dates. But by date 12, it was becoming less of a “Let’s just take our time and see how we feel” and little more of a “Come upstairs for a bit. Why don’t you just stay for a bit? We don’t have to do anything… just lie down for a bit, why not?” kind of situation.
It was actually really handy because finally I’d been able implement some tried and true coercion techniques many men had been using on me for over a decade. But unlike Easy A (me), he was staunch in his stance (a lot more than I’d ever been) and he wouldn’t for the life of him ‘put out’. TBH, I could probably take a leaf out of his book, but that’s a whole other story.
One night after our lovely Valentine’s Day dinner everything came to a head (not the good kind) and he drove me home, but he was apprehensive about coming inside. He felt that if he did, we’d end up in the same conversation about why he couldn’t stay the night. I denied we’d have to speak about it, knowing full well that’s EXACTLY what I would want to talk about. He knew the ‘whiny why’ would come into play the moment I got settled. You know the one – “Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy????”
Jokes aside, he wasn’t ready to “go to the next level” and I respected and accepted that…NOT.
I spent the entire time questioning everything about my existence – was it my hair? My face? It’s because I still gaffaw at Australia’s Funniest Home Videos, isn’t it?!
I cared about him a lot, and genuinely wanted him to be happy. I asked him if he would like us (me) to see other people and he said he didn’t want that, but he understood if I wanted to. I obviously didn’t want that AT ALL because I was basically already in love with this idiot.
Eventually he decided we needed to put “us” on hold for at least two months while he sorted out his life.
Part of me was relieved because it meant I could jump back onto the sex apps. And by that I mean I didn’t speak to, think about, or even LOOK at another guy for two months and instead waited patiently for him.
Two months came up, and like clockwork, I was hot on his heels again. He seemed super excited to hear from me and we started texting again. It was almost like old times. We made plans to meet for boring brunch. Brunch came, but we didn’t, obviously. I asked him about what had happened with us, and he said that although he hadn’t wanted to end it, he felt like it was necessary. He had started going to therapy to sort his issues out, but he was feeling much better about things now. We walked around Fitzroy, bought a Terrarium, hugged goodbye and established we were gonna keep hanging out again.
The next day I messaged him something pretty heartfelt and vulnerable. He never responded. I messaged again three days later. Message seen, no response.
I blocked him on every social media platform, and we never spoke again.
Brutal.
3. The One Who Flew To Southeast Asia To Ruin My Trip
It was Valentine’s Day and I was 25 and dating a guy who had just turned 30. I asked him what he would think of a girl who was 30 and still single. He said, “I’d just think she’d wasted her 20s on an arsehole like me.” We both laughed. Now here I am, turning 30 soon, and I can safely say I wasted a good chunk of my 20s on that arsehole. Happy Valentine’s Day!
It’s all about the choices you make, and one day I grew sick of his flaky vibe, sporadic attention, and aloofness. I decided to book a big trip to Southeast Asia.
I stumbled across these amazing cliffside teepees and booked them instantly. I sent him pictures and he fell in love with the look of it. The more I talked about the amazing trip I had planned, the more his FOMO grew. He started to hint he might come, but never quite committed to the idea. He just constantly dangled it like a carrot, and I was the horny little rabbit jumping for it.
So anyway, it was the night before I was leaving, he said, “I’ll see you in SEA.” And I was like, “Yes, but WHEN?!?!?!?!?!?!” He never gave me an answer. When I got there, although we were in contact, he still wouldn’t tell me if he was coming or not.
FFS. It’s not like I’m that much of a carrot fan. I’ll find another you in a minute, easy come, easy go – bye boy! I’m moving ON.
I cancelled the cliffside accommodation because I don’t need some dumb man. Lol jokes, I definitely do… inbox me.
Merely moments later he sent me a message: “On my way to the airport, I’ll be in Bangkok in eight hours. Meet you at the islands tomorrow. Can’t wait to see you xx”
Cue: Mad scramble to get the good accommodation back, but to no avail.
Ugh.
Once he landed, I told him there was no cliffside accommodation. In a cute twist of Funnell Fate, we ended up getting the WORST accommodation in Thailand. No air con, no windows, loads of bugs and spiders. I reckon he booked it to spite my spite. HOW DARE HE!?
It was only supposed to be for one night, but as luck would have it, we both instantaneously fell violently ill, me being significantly worse.
Within one day of reuniting, I was pissing my shit EVERYWHERE. All over the bathroom. It wouldn’t stop. It was SO FUCKING EMBARRASSING. Throughout the five days we were stuck in that room, we basically just shat, vomited and tried to fuck. At one point I tried to give him a blow job, because I’m a goddamn fucking trooper. It didn’t work out so well. I think they call it the Gastro Gobbie Gag?
After five days we finally made it out and moved to a much nicer place. But the vibe between us was not good. The time together hadn’t strengthened our bond at all. If anything, I felt like he’d seen me at my worst, and he wasn’t down with it.
I don’t know WHY!? It’s not like I vomited on HIM or anything. It was just his dick, and it wasn’t like he was particularly worried about where he put THAT now, was he?!
Spoiler alert: He was still dating his ex-girlfriend and continued to switch between the two of us for two years, with a lot of concurrent boning. I didn’t find out about that little diddy until a long time after the fact. You can read about that in ‘great’ detail here.
One night when he was ignoring me, I asked him for a hug. He walked over, sat on the bed, and patted my head. I said, “NOooooooo! A REAL HUG!!!!” He CRACKED it. It was the first time he had ever gotten angry at me. He said, “I’m fucking busy, I gave you a hug, you don’t get to demand and decide what kind of hug you get!!!”
Pfffft. Whatever. Yes I do. I’m a fucking catch. Haven’t you read my psycho blog?! Geeeeez.
I get really upset when men yell at me, which is why I usually yell first. He had no time for this tantrum. So I was like, “STOP IGNORING ME YOU’RE SUCH A DICK HOLE WHAT EVEN ARE WE I AM SICK OF LIMBO IT’S BEEN A FUCKING YEAR OF THIS SHIT”.
He calmed down and said, “Nothing, we are nothing, you want a nice guy who is going to treat you well and be your husband, that’s what you want, that’s what you deserve, but I will never be that for you because that is not the life I want. I am never going to save you and be your prince.”
That night I took all the bed sheets to myself and made him sleep with nothing. Fucking dickhead.
In the morning he put me in a Tuk Tuk and my trip finally got started.
2. The One Who Said We Were On A Break
Let’s just start this one by saying we were NOT on a break. I had been staying at his house five nights a week. We were on the rocks, but we were not on a break. There is a difference, and it’s significant.
We’d been together a little under a year. I was kinda young, it was the first ‘serious-ish’ boyfriend I’d had since my high school/uni days. I loved him, but he was crazy. We were no good together. He knew it, I knew it. But I was NEVER going to end it. Ever. Never, ever. I would have stayed with him forever I reckon. He constantly broke up with me. Legitimately every weekend. But then we’d just stay together. He was emotionally abusive and had a paranoia about my love for Taylor Hanson. Remember this?
One weekend I was away in the country. We had plans to go to the movies the next day as it was Valentine’s Day.
He called me at around 10am and we got chatting. He said, “Okay, now, I don’t want you to freak out or get angry, this is nothing to worry about, but I just thought I should let you know, a girl from work stayed over last night. She stayed on the couch, I just thought I should tell you because I wouldn’t want it to come out and for you to ask why I didn’t say anything.”
I was calm, but on high alert. I pretended to believe him and told him I’d be there at 1pm.
Do you think I stuck to that plan? NO, I SURE AS HELL DID NOT.
I got in that fucking car and drove straight over to that little weasel’s house. If that dumb dick thought he was gonna fuck some bitch behind my back and get away with it he OBVIOUSLY hadn’t met me. Lie detection, investigation and interrogation are my forte. People don’t call me the psycho for nothing. He was about to cop the full brunt of FUNNELL LAW.
*Cue the Law and Order Theme Song*
I stormed into his house and before he could stop me, I went straight over to check the couch. Sure enough, all the instruments and the vacuum cleaner were still perfectly placed on the couch in the lounge. I knew this because I HAD PUT THEM THERE a few days prior. There was ZERO chance he had gotten up in his hungover state at and put everything BACK on the couch. Fucking sprung, you dumb shit.
He started to back track and admitted that she had slept in his bed, but nothing had happened and they just went to sleep.
Ohhh yeeeeeeeeeah, yeeeeeeeeah…surrrrrrre you did. Like I am EVER going to believe that. Who the FUCK do you think I am?
I reached into our side table and took out our condoms. There was one missing. Did this idiot really think I wouldn’t know exactly how many condoms we had left? Did this idiot even know me? I’m like fucking Rainman when it comes to obscure visual details like that. AS IF that would slip past my attention to detail. AS IF. I register higher than average on the autism spectrum because of my fixations with seemingly innocuous details. But what the fuck ever. It gives me supersonic psychic powers which means I can pick holes in people’s stories and spot a lie from miles away. I just know shit, okay?
I berated him until he admitted that he’d slept with fucking Holly from work.
And then I went crazy, and he wrote almost an entire album about it, and he’s been copping it on my blog ever since.
If you want some links, inbox me xx
1. The First Dump Is The Worst Dump
If my dating life was a story, this would pretty much be the beginning. There were a lot of great “firsts” with this one, the most notable being he was the first person I loved, and then hated. Our love story started in Year 9, we used to flirt in class, although at the time, I didn’t realise it was “flirting” that I was doing. I just thought I hated him. By Year 10 we were together, and operation: Keep My Virginity was in full swing.
I was frigid in the truest sense of the word. Legitimately terrified. I knew I’d have to relent eventually, but for the most part, I was hell bent on protecting ‘it’ at all costs.
He was on the other end of the spectrum. Like many 16-year-old boys, it was his life mission to lose his.
Naturally, there was some conflict. I remember arguing, “I cannot be FIFTEEN when I lose my Virginity! I have to at least be SIXTEEN.” This bought me some time, but once ‘sweet 16’ came around, the pressure was back on. All those techniques of coercion I mentioned earlier? I learnt them from one of best.
When I turned 16, I argued, “But it’s only just been one year”. But I knew I couldn’t hold him off with limp, lacklustre wristies forever. Sometimes I’d be into it and be like, “Yep, alright, we can do it…We’ll do it on Saturday”. But the weekend would come around, and I would chicken out.
Eventually I did it.
It was fine, much of a muchness.
I remember sitting in class on Monday thinking, “Oh my GOD, I cannot believe I’ve had sex.”
A week later we were in the snow for Inter-school Snowsports. We met up and went skiing together with my friend. Just as we were approaching the first lift of the day, he asked my friend if she could go on another chair and leave me and him to talk.
Then he dumped me because he liked a girl called Nadia. Fuck you Naaaaadiaaaaaa.
I was SO upset, I started rocking the chair back and forth. I was kicking my skiis, and just generally carrying on. He said, “Oh my God! Don’t jump!”
In the weeks after the break up, I felt feelings I’d never felt before. Hell hath no fury like that of a 16-year-old hormonal girl scorned.
I didn’t know what to do, or how to process the emotion. So I began writing.
I wrote everything I hated about him. I wrote about all the means things he’d done. I wrote about all the promises he’d made me. I wrote about the INJUSTICE of it. I wrote the most extreme, VILE, sarcastic and snarky things I’ve ever written.
Then on Valentine’s Day, I put it online for everyone to see.
Back in 2004 there wasn’t as much exposure to people’s lives online. We had limited access. But pretty quickly I realised people were reading everything I wrote, and they started talking about it. The psycho blog spread across three high schools.
It was from this an entire alter-ego/coping mechanism was born. And it was actually pretty funny… for a girl.
It worked and he was very upset. But also wanted to get back with me. Talk about rewarding my bad behaviour! We stayed together another 4 years, until that fateful Valentine’s Day I mentioned at the beginning of this dumb blog. The one in the car, where he stuck to the plan of not buying me a gift. Yeah. They call that the long game, bitches.
But really, who’s the real winner here? Now I spend every Valentine’s Day alone, with my hand, right swiping on anyone I think will be stupid enough to get involved with me. Speaking of idiots, know a friend who should appear in this blog? Tag a mate so I can date them and ruin a really nice thing.
Happy Valentine’s Day, Fuckers xx
It's like fundamentalism without 'da mental' part 