Here I sit at the grand age of 32 (nearly 33), facing that scary prospect of having to head out on the dating scene again, or become an even crazier cat lady!
But , wait! I hear you cry, you married a dashing man in uniform who swept you off your feet and away to Plymouth to live your happy-ever-after….
Ah yes, I got caught up the Disney version of a fairytale and not the true dark versions that they originally were.
We met at Sonisphere festival 2010 over a cup of tea (oh so Rock n Roll I know!) I was still licking my wounds from ‘the one that got away’ and finding my feet in the scary world of being a grown up who could drive a car. So when a dark haired, dark-eyed ,cheeky Northerner gate-crashed his way into my life, well he seemed to be the perfect ‘sticking plaster’ for those wounds that had not quite healed. Fast forward 6 months & he’d put a ring on it; 9 months in, I’d packed my bags and had moved to Plymouth (a 5hr car drive from where my family & friends live)….. pretty crazy seeing as I’d split from ‘the- one- who- got -away’ as the distance was becoming a problem; he lived in London which was approx. 1hr away & I refused to entertain the idea of moving away from my family….)
Fast forward to 2016 and we were on the rocks and sinking fast; he’d changed from that cheeky Northerner who had swept me off my feet, to a surly, moody,ticking time bomb.Nothing was good enough or ‘fair’; the government was against us; we should have bought a house by now; we should have been Rome by now; I was wrong for wanting to lay out in the garden on a nice weekend; we should have been out hiking round the moors (having spent years doing that when we had horses; I wanted a ‘normal’ life!); I was ‘boring’ for not wanting to go out and eat at pretentious restaurants as instead I preferred fish & chips sat down the front on a warm summers evening. I was ‘controlling’ for having a go at him when he’d roll in from a night’s drinking with the boys-later than he’d told me he would be home and I would be sat feeling sick with worry as my calls and texts went unanswered. When he did come home- he’d be spoiling for a fight or argument; he never was a nice drunk. He’d brag about how many women had chatted him up & how easy it would have been for him to take them up on their ‘offers’.
I stopped laughing, I stopped smiling, I become snappy and irritable, I stopped being me. I gained weight (at my heaviest I was 15st), I felt frumpy and plain.
December 2016- we were at breaking point; he’d been out drinking and wound me up to the point where I lost it and had a mini meltdown-stuff got thrown and broken; he promised he’d change back to the old him (that lasted a few weeks until he went for a lads weekend away spent an eye watering amount on booze alone and drunk drove my car!)
We limped into Christmas, his family (who have never liked me and the feeling is mutual!) added to tensions, that boiled over and finally erupted on Boxing day; resulting in a huge row at my parents, where he caused a huge row between me and my mum, and he ran off to Hull where his family are. He slunk back to my parents on NYE , after I begged him to come back and sort things out with me and my family. To which he did, but started another row with me, resulting in him walking out, going to the train station and getting on a train back to Plymouth. That was the last I saw of him!