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Scouse bird with a vodka dependency and an acute sense of social observation. Always self deprecating, always blunt. Follow me on twitter WARNING: Non-scousers may not understand language of this blog.
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Sunday, 27 May 2012

My Quarter Life Crisis

Right this is something which is very personal to me, but I think the fact that I can poke fun at my own bad experiences is a testament to how far I've come. This is the story of how my life went from shit to hit in less than a year - and if anyones ever feeling low I hope it'll give you a bit of an example as to how things WILL get better cos right now I'm as happy as a scouse bird when Glenns is on special offer in the bargain booze.

It all started when I got with my ex. I was out partying all the time and I was in a very man hating place so he got me at a vulnerable time. My last two boyfriends had dumped me and fucked off to Greece. I'm not entirely sure what it is exactly about me that screams Greece is the opposite of me so if you don't want me, you must want Greece! But yano, shit like that  can't a be a co-incidence. The first ex used to like a bit of performance cross dressing and the second definitely had certain effeminate traits. I was starting to think my type might be 'closet jobs'. Maybe I should just resign myself to being a fag hag? Maybe I look like a bad manhead? As every girl does I naturally assumed it was all my fault.

Then I met my ex, it took us a while to get together about  4 months of the odd date here and there, both dating other people etc, both torturing the livin daylights out of each other. It was textbook toxic. I should've known then it wasn't gonna pan out - I'd filled my head with mantras such as the path to true love never did run smooth. That's bullshit, it does! It does run smooth! If it's not running smooth fuckin run!

Anyway it turned into an abusive relationship - obviously, why wouldn't it? Now I'm not sayin he knocked seven bells out of me or anythin but he did bite and "play punch" me - to the point where I had to plead with him to pack it in a few weeks before we were goin on holiday. I'd spent a load of time on the salad graft (Skinny for Dominny) so I didn't want the whole look to be ruined by legs full of bruises and arms full of beefys. The thing with....what shall I call him? Knobhead, yeh lets go with that classic. The thing with Knobhead was it was more about the mental abuse. He'd come out with corkers on the reggers such as "You're the fattest girl I've ever dated." Now I'm not bein funny but I'm 5'10" and at the time was a 14, not exactly massive and Knobhead had fuckin moobs like jabba the cheeky cunt. 

He had a best girl mate who was like a poison dwarf. Now I'm not against girl mates, I'm not jealous like that, I myself have lad mates - but I'd never recommend goin out with a lad with a 'best' girl mate. Particularly one who is deffo a bad virgin and looks like chucky when she's havin a good day. Let me tell you, she will think your boyfriend is also her boyfriend and that never sat right with me. She would only see him if they could go the pictures together or out to dinner together but he was always too skint to go out for dinner with me OR I wouldn't be allowed to go see a particular film with him cos she wanted to see it. WTF thats all about?? Now I'll reiterate I'm not a jealous person but that sitch will turn the most secure woman into a crank I promise.

There were many other things wrong with him too - anything from bad debts, a weird sibling relationship, a secret lovechild (yeh if anyone works out who im talkin about ask him about THAT one!) and oh yeh...he used to bum men. Yeh this one wasn't even a closet job! He was a full on homo! But he was a manipulative little shit and he somehow managed to convince me that I couldn't do any better and that I was actually clinically crazy. Everyone else loved him as well, to everyone he was a funny charming lad only I ever got to see the other side of him. Lucky me.

I'd been signed off from work with stress, a job I had been quite successful and happy in for 5 years and all of a sudden he comes along - you can see why I was stressed right? The kind little soul that he was used to reasearch conditions on the internet such as borderline personality disorder and tell me he thinks I might have it. The only personality disorder I had was thinkin I should be in a relationship with that tit.

Anyway around that time I turned 26 and I started doing weird things like seeing a 22 year old friend of mine change her relationship status on Facebook to engaged and rather than being happy for her I'd burst into tears cos I was left on the shelf and I was already startin to get wrinkles. I was clearly destined to die alone amidst my 20 cats stinking of piss and St Moriz. I genuinely panicked and I think I would've married him if it came down to it cos I had it in my head that I needed to settle down RAAARRR NOW! I blame Bridget Jones for this, that film planted a seed in my head that I absolutely MUST get married before I'm 30 or I have failed at life. Well fuck you Renee Zellweger I am sound. Imag if I'd ended up with him??? My life would have been worse than a wools. And that's pretty bad.

I think these days 26 is the new 30. Me ma said she nearly slit her wrists when she turned 30 but to me turnin 26 knowin I was suddenly on the wrong side of 25 made me proper devoed like. I'd be out in town thinking "I'm 26, I'm too old for this shit!" but I took myself to one side, gave my head a wobble and had a word with myself - cut to a few months later and I'm bladdered fist pumpin round the Revo thinking "Wooo yeeaahh 26!"

Anyway we thought it'd be a good idea to go on holiday to Dominican (what an absolute  shithole that is, don't bother) and after a couple of weeks of arguing (normal behaviour) things came to a head one night when he started winding me up about some girl he'd been talkin to at the bar. And also calling ME a slag and a whore. He was so sweet like that. Anyway I was sat at the table in tears as usual and excused myself to go the toilet. The toilet right near the exit. Yeh I legged it out the door and left Knobhead sitting there waiting for a girlfriend who wasn't comin back. I walked past the window and laughed smugly as I saw the little shit sitting there. I found a secluded corner of the hotel to sit in and got pissed on all inclusive cocktails on my own cos alone was better than puttin up with that. He tracked me down later full of apologies sayin that he only called me those things because he was scared I would cheat on him. Ah yes he liked to read straight from the insecure abusive twat textbook. The damage was done, we split up. On holiday. 6000 miles from home. Oh my god, yano those awkward moment shouts? The next 3 days were one long awkward moment. It was hellish.

We reconciled briefly towards the end of the holiday but split up again as soon as we got home. He decided that going out and swapping facebook details and phone numbers with girls he'd "been talkin to" on nights out was perfectly acceptable behaviour. The next couple of weeks were filled with torturous head games til eventually I had to get out of there and ended up comin back from the gym one day and fucked off to Paris for 3 days on me bill. Not the most obvious choice to visit the city of love when you're trying to mend a broken heart but you haven't banked on the French men there! My god, they are the embodiment of an ego boost. Where else would a scouse bird actually get an ambulance pull over so the paramedics can tell her how beautiful she is. Nice one frogs!

I was sound after that, once I managed to cut ties with him in my heart the change in me was noticeable and instant. I slept properly for the first time in a year and woke up happy. I went back to work and most importantly I joined twitter.....and you all know me from there. If not as @ScouseBirdProbs then as @Boobleyboo. Let me tell you, twitter is a ball and without sounding too cheesy, it, and the the people I've met through it have actually changed my life.

Not long after I went back to work I applied for a new job. After I'd been for the interview I found out my ex had also applied for the same job. I got it. Smack in the face number one.
Cos I got that job he was sent over to the Wirral to take my place there which was loads more travel for him. Smack in the face number two.

He's been suspended 3 times and now I've recently found out been sacked and had to move out of his city centre apt an back in with his mum. Smack in the face number 3.

I was sat in the hairdressers yesterday and overheard that I was actually sat next to the fella who had got the other job my ex wanted. OUCH.

Now I'd never wish any of these things on him but I do believe in Karma and I think everyone gets what they deserve ultimately. (Possibly one of the worst things he did was to bin all my Chanel and Dior makeup over £300 worth that I'd left at his rather than passing it to a mutual friend - that in itself deserves a swift knee to the bollocks courtesy of Karma. As if you bin Chanel!!) My life at the moment couldn't be better, I have a job that I love, I have a man that I'm pretty sure is the last man I'll ever be with (and deffo isn't gay!!) and I'm havin a whale of a time on twitter and with all the doors its opening up for me. So I think that speaks volumes.

Hope everyone's havin a boss weekend an gettin frazzled in the sun. Saves on St Moriz like. Next weekend sees me gettin my hair done in the celeb salon Herberts of Liverpool @herbertoflpool (follow them), attending a VIP wedding and going out to Ruby Sky to meet the cast of Geordie Shore an show them that compared to Liverpool girls they are both fannies when it comes to drinkin an a holy show when it comes to lookin boss.


@booblyboo AKA @scousebirdprobs