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niechedfer-blog · 5 years

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Keto Burning Avis

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thr0z3n · 7 years

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Some things never change... or do they?

When reading my teenage blog, I am reminded of how times never seem to change.

It appeared that I spent a chunky amount of time in high school trying to forge romantic relations with girls who, to some degree, showed an interest in me. A few honourable mentions include Zoe - who I stayed in-touch with in patches during my twenties but lost contact with a few years ago, Artemis - see Zoe, Rachel - who I occasionally spoke to on Facebook some years back, and Gemma - who was deservedly pushed off a cliff for being a judgemental, condescending shrew post-high school.

I blogged on them at every opportunity, and it was never good news. 10 years on and none of these relationships amounted to anything significant. None of these women, perhaps with the exception of Rachel who I still consider a dear friend and will hopefully never lose contact with, bear an imprint on my daily life or long-term plans.

They made it tiresome to try and form romantic bonds with in high school, and perhaps that’s my fault for trying too hard, or being too glass-half-full. Or not - after all, I was young, innocent minded, and had skipped that lesson in school about how to foresee the future. What amuses me though, is my constant failure to comprehend Albert Einstein’s interpretation of insanity.

“Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.” My own attempts, casting my memory back over my twenties, are what tickle me the most. I’ve tried over and over again to lock down a relationship with a lovely lady and failed at each hurdle.

I’m going to describe my relationships and dating efforts since college. Buckle up.

- My most successful relationship to date was with Kirsty, in my early twenties. It was a fun, passionate relationship I could sink my teeth into quite pleasurably. Ultimately after 18 months however it was not to be, due to happiness subsiding on both sides and, in the end, we drifted apart emotionally and mutually ended things.

- Chelsea.

Dated her for four months following my split with Kirsty. This was without question my first glimpse into the black hole of relationships. While casting a pretence that she was happy (with simply ‘dating’, and refusing to take things further), it turns out she was simply using my good-natured ways for her gain (such as asking for weed money, groceries, the use of my gaming consoles, etc) while sleeping with her best friend, who was a dude, who pretended to be gay, hence why she refused to take our model further.

The part about sleeping with this guy I’ve assumed, since the day Chelsea and I parted ways romantically was the same day she got together with him. Coincidence...?

- Jess M.

While dating Chelsea, I was socialising/dating Jess. Nothing wrong with that - if Chelsea wouldn’t commit to a relationship, then I’m free to explore elsewhere. Jess was sweet, kind, loved a laugh and accepted me in every way.

How I handled this, however, was probably my biggest dating blunder. Chelsea, despite most likely sleeping with her best friend, became overwhelmed with an incredibly childish, stroppy form of envy when learning I was seeing Jess, and twisted my arm into severing my romantic ties with her rival. Jess would later date an enormously chavvy and abusive cunt, fall in-love (of course), and all hope of our future abandoned following my split with Chelsea.

C'est la vie.

- Nicki.

Ohh, Nicki, you mind-fucking puzzle, you. Met her through a once-good friend, she took a shine to me and the feeling was mutual. We went on three dates, with progress slow but steady. In terms of personality traits, it was like looking in a mirror. Before our fourth date however, she suddenly decided that she wasn’t ready to date somebody (bit late for that, don’t you think?).

Long-story short, a difficult friendship turned to tatters over the next two years. The climax came after I learned that she was actively looking for a relationship online, despite telling me she wasn’t ready to date, again. She revealed that she never saw me in that light, but didn’t really care to mention that.

Respect should really grow on trees.

- Gemma W.

Now the fun really begins.

If I were to tier the women I’ve made reasonable efforts with to craft a romantic future with who would later reveal themselves to be devious witches, this runt would nearly top the list.

I met her online and we went on a bunch of dates. I can’t honestly say she was my type, but at the time I wasn’t choosy. She was slender and occasionally smiled... tick! Over the course of our 3 month story, communication and general relations were rocky.

Our first big fight occurred when I accused her of deceiving me when she claimed she couldn’t meet up because she was visiting family, yet that same day, she posted on Facebook a photo of herself enjoying a Costa coffee with her guy “friend” in Norwich. (Remember this part for later.)

Having flashbacks to the aforementioned Chelsea saga? I sure am. Amongst all the other similarities to that experience, I should make it clear that, like Chelsea, Gemma would also refuse to commit to a relationship following many dates and a few months of progress.

I was forced, by my penis of all things really, to submit and accept full responsibility following what was, here in the real world, a reasonable accusation of mistrust. I really regret this, in hindsight.

We continued after this, but it wasn’t long before our relationship received the shredder treatment. Above all else, I trust my instincts - they’re so bloody accurate, and towards the end, it was my instinct that she was being unfaithful, yet I couldn’t prove it.

So I decided to be clever. Aside from her guy friend from before, how else would she meet people? Same way she met me - online. So I logged back onto that website, entered her username from before, and there it was - her profile, still active. She had been ‘online today’ that day, as well.

I was feeling good.

So I did what any sensible person would do. I created a fake user called Matt. I then found a fairly dreamy looking fella on Google Images and slapped that in as the profile picture. ‘Matt’ then messaged her. She responded, almost instantly, showing overwhelming interest.

When ‘Matt’ asked her if she was single, of course - she said yes. When ‘Matt’ asked if she was seeing anybody all all, of course - she said no. When ‘Matt’ asked if she wants to get together, of course - she said yes.

My research satisfied my gut feeling and I confronted her, digitally at least, accusing her of stringing me along, dishonesty, the works, but didn’t reveal how I obtained my findings in great detail (I kept that hush hush) - I simply said I saw her online profile still active.

She didn’t deny that she was attempting to unzip other dudes trousers, metaphorically or perhaps for real (who knows?). She retreated to her comfort zone, which is to launch an offensive and counter-accuse me of snooping. Which was the REAL crime here, let’s be honest, right?

I kicked her to the kerb. A month or so later, I revisited her Facebook profile out of curiosity, to find that she was in a relationship with the aforementioned Costa coffee friend.

This was a truly immersive experience. It taught me that women, quite simply, are not worth my time, my energy, my money, or my life.

Why was she even dating me? Boggles the mind...

- Jess R.

This is incredibly complicated. An Internet friendship spanning a decade since college that became more.

I met Jess, who has lived in Australia since birth, online during college. She was, and presently is, gay, but despite this our mutual feelings pulled this sexual orientation into question on many occasions in the early days.

During this time we had formed a seemingly unbreakable bond. She loved my Britishy-ness and humour. I loved her smile and her crude grasp of proper English. We would talk over webcam for hours, and hours, and hours.

Following a separation due to a massive misunderstanding involving her jealous, abusive tank of a girlfriend, we went 5/6 years without contact, until I reached out over Facebook late into 2013. She was happy to see me, and vice versa.

We fell back into old habits. I would put my life on hold in my daily routine to keep her company over Skype on her long journeys to work, often into the early hours of the morning (which ruined my sleep cycle and compromised my ability to work).

It became clear where this was heading. A few months after making contact, we decided to ‘date’ officially, my first real Internet relationship. I felt rather proud that, of all the men on the planet, she had chosen to break her sexual preference because of me, and who I am, and what I meant to her.

The bond matured, so much so that I felt physically sick about not being with her, a feeling I had never felt before. We put together this plan, which would see her coming to live with me for 6 months (largely funded by me), and would in-turn satisfy her ultimate dream of living in England.

There was a problem, though, which is where the cracks started to emerge. For reasons I couldn’t grasp (or perhaps refused to see), she wouldn’t purchase a new passport, which was critical to the plan’s success. I politely prodded her about the matter several times, but each time was met with a rather cold “I’m doing it”.

She never did it.

What’s more, around 4 months into our relationship, she met some new friends. Lady friends. Who were gay. Who were, despite in being in a relationship with one-another, were interested in Jess.

The relationship declined severely. I was still holding out for our plan, while at the same time, she would pay very divided attention to our video chats. Too busy messaging one (or both?) of her new lesbian friends.

Eventually I snapped. I didn’t want to live in this facade anymore. I confronted her on Facebook, bringing into the spotlight her obvious feelings for this new girl and her obvious disregard for everything about us. I told her to choose between the girl or me.

She chose her. Of course.

We ended, there and then. All of my planning, efforts, and hope, put towards what would be an incredible life in England with her, in tatters.

I still talk to Jess occasionally on Facebook. In this chats it seems we’re very close still. She even expresses immense feelings of love. Here’s a quote, from a conversation last month:

“I miss your voice. I miss your smile. I miss your laugh. I miss the stupid things we'd talk about. I miss that look you'd give me... the that but mixed with that one.. I'm a bit said there wasn't an emoji for that but it was the look you gave me whenever I said something really dumb.”

As sweet and heart-felt as it is, I can’t buy into it. Partly because she’s engaged to a girl, and partly because it’s all surface. She doesn’t really mean it. She considers everybody her best friend, and loves everybody. Which is sweet, and I do love her to a certain degree. But I am far from special to her.

- Angela.

My second most successful relationship in terms of goals and general progression.

As with most girls listed here, I met her on an online dating site. In hindsight I’m not sure what on Earth we talked about, because it became clear that we had literally nothing in common.

Despite this, we went on a few dates, developed feelings, and entered into an official relationship on my birthday (yippee!).

Things were going pretty well for the first two months. Meeting up a few times a week in-between her studies to go for meals, drinks, movies, etc.

It was when I became entrenched in this relationship that I truly discovered who my girlfriend was - daddy’s spoiled little control-freak.

Literally nothing we did happened without her strict vetting and approval. We would eat at restaurants only she liked. We only went to the cinema to see films only she wanted to see. We met up when she wanted to, often only a few times a week for a few hours. We were only intimate when she was in the mood (I think it was exactly 4 times.)

I was committed though. The conqueror in me was determined to make this work. Until one day, four months in, she came round and revealed she wasn’t happy and wanted to end things.

I was destroyed. I sat in my living room afterwards crying, having thrown my phone across the room and smashed a photo frame with our best moments in against the wall. It was horrible... and yet... in hindsight... brilliant.

I know it’s easy to say this now. But in all logic, science and seriousness, it was the most toxic relationship I’ll probably ever have - certainly the most unsatisfying and repellent.

I marvel at the irony to this day. I endeavoured to please her, meeting all her demands and requests, and she was the unhappy one. Just, wonderful.

- Gemma R.

I’m really tired at this point. Must... soldier... on...

I met this particular Gemma on an adult dating website. Similarly with Jess, we took an almost immediate shine to one-another thanks to our shared interests and beliefs.

We met up, despite living 40 miles apart. And she couldn’t drive, so I smashed the piggy bank to fuel up my car, but it was worth it. She was incredible. Pint-sized, slender, cheery, the right blend between emo-goth-alternative and just normal. She was a gamer, and into the same kooky kind of things I was. I thought I’d hit the goldmine.

During our dates (which didn’t happen too often given the distance), we would be physically intimate. It was pretty hot, cough.

This continued for two months or so, with the only drawback being her refusal to talk on Facebook or Skype for days on end, sometimes weeks. She claimed she was taking stock of our situation and needed time in-between our get-together’s, due to aspects from her abnormally dark upbringing.

Despite this, things were going smoothly. I felt confident. I didn’t want to jinx things though (because my relationship track record, as you can tell so far, was seriously bad up to this point), so I didn’t tell Mike, who I usually keep abreast of my love life. Until one Tuesday morning in the third month.

I decided to tell him about Gemma, still oozing with confidence. He was as chuffed as I was, but in-spite of this, I jokingly said “don’t worry - in about an hour, I bet it’ll be over”. He dismissed it, as did I.

Oh, boy.

An hour later, Gemma sent me a message, saying “we need to talk later.” This was following a weekend of mostly silence, which I had adapted to. I knew exactly what was going to happen. I was too experienced not to know, or pretend not to know.

I rang her immediately. She was crying her eyes out. When I essentially asked “what’s up?”, she revealed that since we began dating, she had been sleeping with her ex-boyfriend relentlessly and uncontrollably.

I didn’t feel anything. I heard white noise. I was like a statue. Partly because I had developed an immunity over the years to rejection and failure with love, and partly I knew it was over there and then.

We talked again that night, and she confirmed it was over, claiming the higher grounded and that she was the true victim because of the “difficult decision she had to make, choosing between us.”

Lol. Fuck off. You’re the victim? No matter what you do, I lose here. I lose. Not you.

After this, I terminated all efforts into finding a girlfriend. I hit my breaking point. I understood that, at least for a significant amount of time, I would be single and alone...

- Rose.

...for a few months.

In all seriousness, I had given up for the most part. I deleted my online dating account and made no strides in real life into finding a girl. I simply wasn’t interested.

However... however... I was still a member of this adult dating site, and one evening, made the decision to message a few girls. Partly because fuck it - why not, I’m bored and want something to do, and partly because I had greater success on this adult site than the standard dating site.

Low and behold - I struck gold. At least in terms of responses.

I met this girl called Rose. You can fill in the blanks here. We talked online, got to know one-another, and eventually met up for a drink.

It was the worst date of my life. Trying to squeeze meaningful chatter out of her was like trying to convince Donald Trump that he doesn’t have an orange for a face. It was nigh-on impossible. We went for a wander after she finished her glass of wine. It was incredibly awkward. That evening, following the world’s worst date, I admittedly asked her for a second go, to see if the first attempt was just bad luck (that’s scientific, right?). She declined, saying we weren't a match.

Fine by me. I returned to my comfortable state of not caring about women, dating, or relationships, and we didn’t speak again.

Fast-forward two months later however, and I receive a text message from an unregistered number, reading “hey, how’s it going”. I was intrigued. I didn’t want to outright ask, “uhh, who the fuck is this?”, so I delivered a generic response and massaged the conversation to suss out their identity. I learned eventually that it was her.

So why was she getting back in-touch? Almost the first thing she said was, “I’m okay, but my boyfriend just broke up with me.”

Transparency = 100%. She was feeling empty and unloved and seeking the comfort from... a guy she met once and hadn’t said a word to in over two months. Of course.

I played along, saying it’s always darkest before the dawn, if it’s not meant to be it’s not meant to be, and so forth. All the clichés.

Enough time had passed that I was willing to brush our awful first date under the rug and ask for a second go. She declined, just wanting to be friends.

I was enraged, hysterical, and couldn’t stop laughing my head off.

Let’s recap. She rejected me (which was fine), chose not to speak to me for two months (again, which was fine, as did I), and then expects me to be her friend when the man she chose over me rejected her.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

I am not your tool. I am not your puppet. I am not anything to you - something you chose. Why the fuck would I comfort you? So you can, once again, bugger off for an indeterminate length of time to screw somebody else instead of me? And then come back again when it doesn’t go your way?

It was this experience that shut the doors on my dating career. This experience, minus one or two weak attempts to talk to a few girls online, has crushed any ambition I have to forge a relationship.

Women are toxic, manipulative, deceptive, lying rats, only ever looking out for number one.

I am tired of wasting precious time pandering to their pathetic ways, to ultimately receive nothing in return.

Instead, I focus on me. I focus on my friends, my travels across Europe, my career, my gaming, my web design, my photography, and more.

I love my life, because I don’t let selfish women ruin it.

Here’s hoping things may be different in 10 years time. But if they aren’t, I can confidently say, I would be fine with that.

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