Saturday 7 July 2012

An update on the Andy Situation...or lack thereof...

Well today has been nothing short of a shitter. You can tell that from the fact I'm blogging again for the second time today.
Needless to say our Andy didn't get in touch last night, so I have had to face the grim reality that not only did he fuck off, he did it with absoutely no explanation whatsoever...I can only draw my own conclusions. I have outlined a few theories in my earlier post and all of them stem from the fact he is a bad knobhead.

So I moped around for most of the day trying to work out why I give a fuck. Saw something interesting on someones twitter before. It was a girl who is also fighting a battle against a twat of an ex. She said:

"He's not an arse all of the time, hes nice like 20percent of the time.I miss that"

Yes ya see heres the issue, if they were a proper bastard the whole time it would be a no brainer. But they're not ya see. They're proper little angels sometimes. Making me dinner, running me a bath, in fact this time last week he was on the phone to me telling me what an wonderful amazing person I am and how he wants to spend his life with me. Has he gone the full Kerry Katona and added bi-polar to cocaine addiction? Who know's. All I do know is I feel like complete shit and its bang out of order.

It got to about half 4 and I was getting cabin fever, so I decided to go down to the park with my lad to get me out of the house. Lest we forget I am still having to deal with a 5yr old who wants to go and see spiderman so I suppose I'll have to take him the flicks tomorrow. For Fucks Sake. I don't even like spiderman. And you just know I'll be thinkng "you fucking bastard" throughout the whole thing. Still, thats tomorows problem.

Anyway we get to the park and our baby runs off pretending he's doctor who, and I sit down on a bench next to some fat people. One of them was holding a little boy, must have been about 2. There was kids running about everywhere having a ball, and I had taken 50 shades darker to read, it should have been a nice couple of hours out of the house. Then, my brain being the utter wanker that it is, decided to remind me that last time I was in a kids playground it was in London, with Andy, when we had taken his mate's kid to the play area on the way home from the pub. What sort of a tosser is my brain for thinking that was an appropriate thought to have at a time like this? Fuck off brain. Your the one that got us into this mess in the first place.

So all of a suddden I now felt like the park is not the place I wanted to be. I wanted to be at home, in bed, under the covers, hiding from the blatant horric treatment I have been subjected to. That's what is fucking pissing me off you know. It is proving difficult to do the whole "Hold your head up high" when I have been quite obviously been fucked right over. I'm an actual idiot and I think I need a carer or something because I clearly am incapable of making rational decisions when it comes to this dude! Its embarrassing more than anything else! Anyway, I felt like an agrophobic in a field. I needed to run, but how could I bail when we had only been there 15 minutes? I would look like a right miserable cow. All the other mum's would be looking at me as if to say look at that tight bitch dragging him home, he's only just made a tardis out of the slide. Then, the 2year old next to me started to spew up and its fat mother was just letting it. No attempt to divert it into a bin, no attempt to clean up the chunks from the bench with baby wipes, fuck all. She just let this kid spew up all over the show and then walked away. Scruffy fucker. With thoughts of Andy spinning round my head, the fresh smell of vomit swirling up my nose and no obvious excuse to leave, I was starting to feel like I might shed a tear. The situation was critical. I was very nearly sobbing. Like a wierdo. In a kids playground. Surrounded by fat people. And just when I was about to surrender to the pathetic mess gods, the universe threw me a bone. It started to absolutely piss it down. Big fat blobs of rain which meant I could take my lad home without looking like a mean bitch.

So now I'm back home and I'm feeling irritated and sad. I badly want to text him and tell him he's a cunt. Common sense tells me no good will come from this. Surely he's fully aware that he's a cunt anyway? I don't need to remind him of this. He was on about getting me a key cut to his flat on Monday. Fucking 5 days earlier he was getting me a key, and now he's god knows where doing god know's who. WHAT THE FUCK HAS GONE ON?? I hate it when things don't make sense. I need logical reasoning otherwise my brain just doesn't compute the situation. Whats a girl to do ay?

I need to sort my shit out here, I cant be arsed feeling like a miserable fucker for too long, its draining and time consuming and also not really very enjoyable. I need something exciting and fabulous to happen to me ASAP. Before I start texting my ex's.

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