Boyfriends of christmas past: The Fiancé

33 years. 13,5 of them in a relationships. 3 relationships. And yet...here I am - left on the shelf. 


As I'm trying to figure out how this is possible; what to blame my inability to close the deal on there's a voice at the back of my head that sounds an awful lot like Dr. Phil. And the voice is pointing out that the one thing these relationships have in common is... me. 

Am I that flawed? Well, I must- seeing how all my friends are happily shacking up and I consistently fail to evoke that kind of feelings in men. Instead I seem to evoke a desire to beat Usain Bolt's world record.

The first relationship was doomed from the start. Even I knew that. But I figured if everyone else was so happy we got together... surely I could be too. We moved in together like, 6 months into the relationship. By which time it had become increasingly evident that while he was still determined to spend the rest of his life with me (oh yeah, we also got engaged. A big mistake. A huge mistake.) he really didn't want to have anything to with me. He'd stay up on his computer until 3 am and would be fast asleep in the morning when I had to get up and go to work and to lectures and work and lectures. I came off the Pill three times during those 4,5 years- simply because there was no need for it. He never even noticed.

Somehow I managed to break up with him. I still today don't remember exactly how. I just remember waking up one day in my own flat; a flat only I had the keys to.  And the sun was shining through the grey haze I'd been surrounded by for so long. I got up, went out  and bought my first bright red lipstick. 

One of the things that make us girls so frigging charming is our ability to take the blame for absolutely everything. Say, you're with a guy. (And we all know guys are simple creatures and obsessed with sex- there's a bunch of reputable scientists who, instead of coming up with a cure for cancer have chosen to dedicate their lives to proving just how simple men are. They're supposed to  think about sex like, every 7 seconds!) And the guy in question just isn't into it. What's the girl going to do? She's going to think there's something wrong with her. She must be revolting. She must be fat. (which, considering that the guy has put on like, 30 kilos is a bit rich. ) 

So, I decided to do something about it. I decided to lose some weight and become attractive again. And boy did I lose some. Starting with the dead weight that was the fiancé. All 120 kilos of him. Gym at 6am ( starting with 50k on the exercise bike, you know,  for warm-up), followed by lectures at the uni, work, prep classes for another degree course, and eventually 3 hours of circuit training... And hey presto- I'd got myself a brand new body! And anorexia...