I wish I could pin-point the exact moment it happened, my general disdain for relationships and commitment. Looking back I guess I always knew I wasn’t cut out for them. But I tried anyway. Oh man, how I tried. The amount of dead-end relationships I stayed in and awful human beings I settled for to prove that I could do this thing called ‘love’… But the truth is, I only tolerated their existence long enough to send me properly insane. Then I’d run like the wind and add another collector’s item to my baggage.
Like many ‘damaged’ people (and I’m generalising here), my childhood left much to be desired. But I never really thought too much about that. In my defence, I didn’t actually know there was anything wrong with my upbringing until I was around about 15 years old. And even then, I continued through life completely unfazed by the things that took place and the impacts they might have on me later. That is until my relationships (and my overall functionality for them) failed consistently and spectacularly. It was around this time I discovered I was pretty much a walking cliché.
I’ve been in three long-term relationships that spanned ten years. These were a strange mix of the worst, most laughable, awful, and indelible years of my life. I can’t tell you how many moments of despair, self-abhorrence, obnoxious abandonment, breathtaking despondence, stark rejection, and sheer, unadulterated loathing I had. And it was these experiences that helped me to become hard, bitter, cynical, and all together skeptic of love. My jaded perspicacity left me angry and doubtful that love really exists or that relationships ever actually work out. As a result, I don’t crave the ‘normal’ things most women look for. I don’t aspire to ‘happily ever after’ (I’m not entirely sure I even know what it means). I didn’t really believe in monogamy or commitment; I just don’t see how it’s possible. I absolutely am your stereotypical ‘commitment-phobe’. The idea of marriage sets my teeth on edge and sends my chest almost into anaphylactic shock. Which is why being back in a relationship now, after a few years of being single and learning about myself, my current view of the future is equally surprising and terrifying.
Prior to this period of self-discovery was a whole ream of family-fun (yes, that’s sarcasm). My childhood in general was a very dark place, but I won’t bore you with the details at this present time. Suffice to say it had me struggling with identity in a world where I knew nothing about anything. I was a lost, lonely, silent child growing up in a time where I had to (mostly) raise myself. Absent father, young mother struggling with alcohol and drugs, homelessness, poverty; all of the common themes for the foundation of a commitment-phobe (or, walking cliché). Needless to say, by the time I’d ended long-term-relationship number three, I was fairly cynical about monogamy in general. I mean, what was the point? These things never work out anyway. They always end in bitter disappointment and a huge amount of wasted energy. I figured it was just better to be alone. At least I’m free that way. At least I’m happy.
And so I thought, Fuck it! I’m going to try this whole noncommittal thing. You know, where you date a string of men and never actually settle down and life is fantastic because you get to sleep with these people but never have to really put up with them? If you haven’t tried it, I absolutely recommend it. But only if you can handle it. We women are fickle apparently (let’s look at that in another chapter). It was here I discovered (and I mean REALLY discovered) who I am and what I actually want from life. For the first time I was not ashamed of my seemingly unemotional view on men and all that comes with them. I was no longer questioning my existence and why I had no appetite for settling down; why I found the entire concept stifling. I was free. And along that road I met some of the most exciting, funny, inspiring, fantastic men. Conversely, I also met some of the stupidest, most appalling, disgusting, selfish fuckwits in the entire world. And now I have a blog – go figure.
Five things you need to know about me for my stories to make sense:
- I drink a lot.
- I mean, I’m not an alcoholic (though I’m sure my friends would disagree)! But I absolutely am a big drinker. Generally, I have a couple of glasses of wine a night. Every night of the week. Some days I drink much more than others (Friday, Saturday, any other day ending in ‘y’). For the most part, I enjoy vodka. Scratch that. I LOVE vodka. I’m a Grey Goose/Belvedere/Ciroc-on-the-rocks kinda girl. But considering my love of drinking on a school night, I gravitate towards wine during the week.
- Sia’s song “Chandelier” was written about
- Ok, not really – but it might as fucking well have been! I am a party-girl! I love to socialise and I generally have an event of some sort on every night of the week. More often than not, the one night I have free each week is a Monday or a Tuesday and I’ll purposefully keep quiet about it so I can spend it being a fat-bitch on my couch with my amazing dogs and a nice glass of red. But outside of that I have a huge network of friends and fellow drinking-buddies with whom I party. And we party hard.
- The hardest drug I’ve ever done is
- Not even kidding – I don’t do drugs. I’ve just never been interested in them. So when I say I’m a party-girl, I mean I go out with my friends and we dance like animals, drink alcohol like it’s water, and end up in the smoking section engrossed in heavy deep-and-meaningfuls. Nek minit it’s almost 6:00 am and I’m falling into bed, a drunken mess. It’s generally only hours before I get up to do it all again the next day (weekends, people! On weekends!). This doesn’t mean I have no tolerance for drugs – a few of my friends do them and I hold absolutely no judgements for that. I just don’t enjoy them myself.
- Music owns my soul.
- For as long as I can remember, music has practically been my life. I dare say that’s part of my Samoan background though; we are born with music in our veins. The only downside to that is, like Mumble in Happy Feet, I was not gifted with the natural ability to sing. I was born a very average and unremarkable child with no real talent for anything. All I knew growing up was that music was made of magic and it would lift me up and make me soar. When I was 14 I decided it was unfair and completely unacceptable that everyone else in my family could sing like angels and here I was squawking like a crow at sunset. So I invested in singing lessons. Since then I’ve gotten (marginally) better – I can sing in tune I’m just not particularly good. But I don’t care. Because music sets me free and singing (no matter how awful it is for everyone else) makes me happy.
- I love food.
- Like, LOVE. I’m talking cold pizza for breakfast on a Tuesday, Nutella out of the jar with a spoon at 11:00 pm, McDonalds for lunch AND dinner on the same day kinda love. Yeah, yeah I hear you – “That’s not REAL food!”, I know. I also love GOOD food – vegetables, some fruit (fermented grapes mostly), salads (I love these less). But mostly I love carbs – pasta, rice, potatoes – and anything deep fried and completely doused in chocolate. Or cream. Or caramel. Or just deep fried. And (like most women that LOVE food) I, of course, was blessed with the ability to consume whatever I want without putting on a shred of weight, right? WRONG. I have been on the curvier side of solid for most of my life. Even at my skinniest I still had huge hips and a donk to offset my (at the time) little waist. My weight used to fluctuate depending on how unhappy I was in my relationship at the time – or what my relationship status was (single meant skinny and relationship meant “fat”). After my last longer-termer I stopped caring so much about my weight and learned to accept myself for the ever-hungry, eternally-lazy, heavy, half-Samoan I am. And I quite enjoy my curves. Especially since they stopped interfering with my eating. Don’t get me wrong, I eat healthily most times, and by no means am I encouraging people to just eat and never exercise. I’m simply stating I care not for society’s view on what shape is best for women and that, with every morsel of my being, I love food.
That aside, these chapters are my journey through life thus-far. All of my inner thoughts (and even feelings) about the people that have come in and out of my life – long term AND short term; all of the heartbreaks and soul-shattering experiences that made me who I am; all of the hard lessons and self-defence mechanisms I learned along the way. I wanted to share everything I’ve learned about life, love, and cynicism in the hopes that it will help you through your day-to-day lives. If I’m honest, I’m hoping it helps strengthen people who struggle to say no for fear of losing the person they love. Or realising that just because you’re not what they want doesn’t mean you’re not what ANYONE wants. And that you should never settle just because someone says you don’t deserve better. Because you do. And if you do it right, you’ll find the person who has been waiting a lifetime just to give it to you.
PS. The girl in the pic is not me. I’ve never been that skinny in my life. I’m hungry just looking at her.
That came out wrong. Shitttaaaahhh..