Wake Up and Smell the Gulibility

I don't know. Perhaps I just have a tendency towards unfailing romantic ideals in the face of absolute and continual disappointment. I wouldn't have said so about myself but it's becoming more and more apparent that my utter willingness to believe the best about men can withstand more pressure than a large slab of lead.

Traveling N returned home just before my holiday. Having known each other for just two weeks prior to his departure, we spent three months emailing and texting almost every day. I tried not to get too invested, I really did but it was hopeless. In my mind, he would return, gather me up in his arms and not let me go for at least half an hour or until one of us needed the loo quite badly. What actually happened was that he turned up in a mood, managed to call me fat and insult my job choice within approximately 4 hours. Oh, and we had to go dutch on lunch. Despite that, I slept with him that day (I know; weak). After this appalling display I went on holiday and vowed to sack him off when I returned. He asked me to lunch and over lunch was a different person. He was apologetic, kind and full of remorse claiming jet lag and nerves as the root causes of his knobbery. I was won over and decided to give him another chance.

The night before my birthday he wanted to take me to dinner. We met at the tube and, once again, he was in a mood. Sorry, but this was MY birthday dinner, supposedly and yet here I was doing my manic cheerleader impression, trying to cheer up a guy who I wasn't even sure I actually liked that much. In the bar we actually bickered. I bickered with a guy I've met a handful of times who's intention had been to take me out for the evening and convince me he was worth a shot. He called my opinions stupid (we were discussing politics) and told me I clearly had no experience of real life or real people (we were discussing infidelity - could we have chosen more volatile topics?). We were in danger of descending into actual drunken rowing so we went to eat (I had to suggest and then find the restaurant). Throughout the meal I tried to be civil and ignore the barbed comments coming at me. I asked him why he was being such an arse and he said it was because I was being defensive without actually thinking that perhaps that was because I was being attacked. As the meal ended, I escaped to the toilet to breathe deeply and chastise myself in the mirror. When I returned, the waiter was poised with the electronic card reader thingy.
"Oh thank goodness," my tormentor exclaimed. "I was about to put the whole meal on mine."
The real shocker is that once again, I slept with him. Now, in my defence it was the eve of my birthday and I didn't want to be alone. Physical comfort was required and he was clearly willing to provide it. Plus I was quite drunk.

On Monday I spent the day in Brighton with four friends to whom I relayed this sorry tale. The open-mouthed horror with which they received it made me grateful they weren't furnished with weaponry. Thank God for friends - they have all confirmed what I knew to be true. That he might have a nice side and might be good in bed but by God he's got issues and is actually a bit of a bastard. Enough was enough. I sacked him off by email (I'm chicken). He's text me a couple of times asking me to see him to 'discuss it' but I won't. I've had enough blokes knock my always-shaky self confidence in my lifetime and I finally realised it was only me that could preserve my own sanity. I'm aging physically, perhaps I'm at last beginning to age emotionally as well.