Monday, 18 March 2019

THE DUMPING OF EX NUMBER ONE





This post relates to THIS LINK titled ‘The Dumper’s Perspective – When the Dumpee Does Not Deal Well 'With' The Dumping’.  If you want to know my opinions of acting crazy during a dumping and why you shouldn't do it, you can read them there.  Here is just my experience of a horror dumping so you know what NEVER to do.  

THE BACKGROUND

He was actually my very first bf and therefore the first person I’d ever been in a dumping situation with…    

…so this was a nice new experience for me…with him…just kidding…

So during the relationship, he’d write me letters…very long…War And Peace-length letters proclaiming his devotion and detailing how many children we were going to have (and if you knew 17 year old me you’d know that dirty nappies and teaching the ABC were the furthest thing from my mind, and if you wanted to keep me interested, you would leave the baby talk OUT).  Then he’d ask me my opinions of the letters he had written, and he’d want us to sit together listening to love songs and pour over the letters and scrutinise his lettered-thoughts and then he’d ask me urghhh…‘how I feel’ – he’d want us to analyse every line he had written in these emotion-filled letters whereas I wanted to go out and watch bands and go to nightclubs.  Every interaction with him was emotion filled and that to me does not constitute a healthy, happy relationship.  In fact it makes me queasy and I close down.   

He recorded music tape mixes after music tape mixes for me; oh yeah, sorry, this was the best part of the relationship because about 70% of the time his taste in music was pretty fucking good – so I did get a reasonable musical education from him if nothing else.  But he’d also like…cry….a lot…and I just didn’t know how to handle it and unfortunately I can’t help who I am (and he can’t help who he is – a big cry baby bunting) but a man, or person (cause gender is not applicable here) constantly crying and breaking down without apparent very-fucking-good-reason just makes me get the ick and there’s no going back from the ick (you get me ladies?) – it’s a turn off to me anyway.  Occasional tears I understand and I’d have said ‘oh babe, what’s wrong?’ and I’d be concerned, but not every-fucking-day and especially because he told me he was crying because he was ‘so happy’.  You can call me a bitch, I’ve been called worse.  I’m trying to say that the problem in our relationship was…him – haha! – no, it was our mutual incompatibility – he was an emotional ickster but he wasn’t unkind to me and he wasn’t a user.  But he made me SO UNHAPPY…and I couldn’t take it anymore…so I summoned up the courage (which your ex will have had to have done too and that’s a difficult and scary thing to do) and so…     


THE ‘CHEERI-O’ BIT

…I was dreading breaking up with him because without even knowing him you know his 'type'; the emotional-type; I mean he clearly wasn’t going to take it ‘well’ was he?  You can see that yourself!  **emotions, emotions** and to my credit I did actually man up and break it off in person as tempted as I was to tell one of his mates to pass on the ‘you’re dumped’  message for me.  He made me regret this decision to ‘do the decent thing’ though – I’m sorry to say that if I’d have known how the dumping was going to go I would have just wimped out and literally dropped off the face of the earth and I certainly wouldn’t have done it in person.  Sorry but I wouldn’t – it was just tooooooooo much EMOTION.  Yeahhhhh, I know that IS selfish, I know he was upset, he deserved…groan ‘…closure…’, he deserved to have his say, I know, I know, I was the one ending it, but it was just toooooooo MUCH…it’s draining me thinking about it now, many years later…

So, little naïve me went on over to his, I was prepared (well, I thought I was)…I had an umbrella, waterproofs and wellys in anticipation of safely navigating the floods (of tears).  No exaggeration here, it took me eight hours of dumping him to have him dumped.  That’s equivalent to a full day’s 9-5 job and I didn’t even get a lunch break…or a pay cheque.  It was bloody hard graft.  SEVEN HOURS he cried and begged and sobbed thinking that he could get me to change my mind and for the final hour when I adamantly refused to give him another chance he got really nasty and very personal; he brought out the big guns…BULLY TACTICS; cause that’s sure to work!  Cause I’m really now going to change my mind and go ‘...oh great, not only are you very emotionally charged ALL THE GOD DAMN TIME, but you’ve also got a nasty side which you can switch on very bloody fast – gee, you’re an absolute dude you are – let’s give THIS another go’

Be rational, THAT is not going to work on anybody and it’s desperate behaviour which will cause the dumper to build up a barrier and clamp right down on the decision to dump you, which is what I did.  I’d tried to be gentle, not be cruel, console him, be all softly spoken and y’know kind(?!) and I genuinely did feel bad, I touched his arm at one point.  I felt terrible, because it was such a lovely, sunny day outside and I was stuck dealing with thissss fuc….a’hem, sorry…because it isn’t nice dumping somebody, but after SEVEN flippin’ HOURS I wasn’t going to then take a character assassination for longer than say, one hour.  I figured he could call me an hour’s worth of names tops and then I’d get gone.  Surely I could take ONE hour of sticks and stones – let him get it all out in one go and then we could, y’know BOTH move on...because y’know…EIGHT HOURS IN TOTAL, surely everything that needed to be covered was capable of being covered in EIGHT FUCKING HOURS.  Oh, and I’m not blaming him for the eight hours, I should have given it 15 minutes.  In, out, job’s a good ‘un because I was doing him no favours sticking around.

When I’d finally unclamped his fingers from around my arm and edged out of the front door, with a ‘…thanks for taking that SO WELL, you’ve been…erm…great.  OK?  You’ll be OK!  Bye’ with not a hint of sarcasm in my voice, leaving him in a heap on the floor (sorrrrry), I RAN home – I was exhausted and drained but I had to RUN.  I would have beaten Mo Farrah on his fastest day and I’m not a runner.  I wasn’t waiting for no bus near his house in case he followed me and came out for round 2 in front of the bus queue; I was outta there and out of his ‘hood. 


THE IMMEDIATE AFTERMATH

Only once did I answer his many calls – the one I answered was on the following day I think; I didn’t want to, but I did it in case he was going to ask me for (…groan…) The Closing Of The Closure (which is the next level up from […groan…] ‘Closure’) – I was willing to give him that; but he was crying, no words, just full on blarting, and I didn’t know what else I could say, I mean, tell me in the comments below what I could of said; so I….ermmm, I might have hung up on him, and I DID FEEL BAD – I FELT GUILTY AND HORRIBLE AND when somebody makes you feel bad and guilty and horrible you want to distance yourself completely – I didn’t want to be the cause of somebody else’s anguish like this.  I was mentally drained – yes, I’m sure he was too, but to me I’d done my graft.  I’d been unhappy for ‘x’ number of weeks/months, trying to make myself like him again and like him more when I just didn’t and I was tired from that and now I felt guilty that I could have such an effect on somebody and so I didn’t want to face him ever again.  And had the choice been mine I would never have had contact with him again.  It wasn’t my intention to play with his emotions, I didn’t want to string him along, I wasn’t looking for an ego stroke.  My intention was to leave him alone because that is the kindest thing a dumper can do when they do not want to be with you anymore.  Leaving you alone is kind – contacting you to test and play with you is unkind.  I’m kind.  Be kind.


THE ONGOING GOD AWFUL AFTERMATH

He turned up at nightclubs he knew I’d be at on nights he knew I’d be there.  But I’m telling you that if I spotted him first I’d exit faster than he could blink.  If he spotted me first, I’d get frogmarched into a (…yawn) quiet area, cornered in, so that he could beg me to give him another chance ‘please, I really love you – we were going to have children together’ or character assassinate me with his finger wagging in my face telling me ‘he doesn’t know what he sees in me anyway…’ blah, blah and then I’d wait til his back was turned and I’d grab my bag and off I’d sprint.  I JUST COULDN’T TAKE THE EMOTIONS or the emotional cycle he was on; love-hate-love-hate-love-hate – I just wanted his indifference…

...and these hostage situation conversations we were having were not even conversations – I had no words to say to him – he made me unhappy what more was there for us to say?  So I’d just stand there all hostage-like, looking compliant, pretending to listen to his noise whilst carefully planning the quickest escape route.







...It was unfair of him to expect me to stay in an unhappy relationship when I couldn’t reciprocate his feelings.  This turning up at clubs happened over a course of I’d say 3(ish) months, but I started going to pubs and clubs in a new area and we stopped ‘bumping’ into each other and the calls slowly faded and then I assume he met somebody better suited to him…a woman who dotes on a crier. 

HOW I FEEL ABOUT HIM NOW

He wasn’t a bad person; he just liked a good cry…and our personalities and sense of humour didn’t click so the attraction I had for him when we met went into sharp decline.  Some people like sappy and think it’s cute as, but I just….don’t.  Romance, yes – sappy-sap-sack, no.  That dumping and the aftermath firmly cemented in my mind that we were not right for each other.  Healthy minded individuals want an emotionally healthy and strong partner not one that breaks down at the sight of snow.  All of his emotions came out every day during the relationship and they came out magnified x 1000 when I broke up with him and thereafter.  And despite how much he SAID he liked me, he couldn’t make me like him back and in fact he loved me sooooo much that he tried to guilt, bully and harass me into taking him back?…hmmmmm…that’s not what love looks like to me.




Anyone for Ex Number 2?!  If you want to see how this next car crash panned out, the link is HERE if you can stomach it (it’s BAAAAAAD).


Let me know about your dumping horror stories in the comments below…

TOUGH LOVE EVERY.STEP.OF.THE.WAY



No comments:

Post a Comment

MOVED TO www.breakupmakeupwakeup.blog

FROM SATURDAY, 15 th JUNE 2019, THIS BLOG HAS MOVED TO… www.breakupmakeupwakeup.blog