Bad Boyfriend A-Z.... 'C is for Cannabis'

                                                            'C is for Cannabis'

I won't lie, I used to smoke weed. I started when I was a student, heavily influenced by my peers and living alone for the first time at 18 in London. I had a flat mate, we shall call her Alesha. Alesha was the perfect muslim daughter, face and body covered, regular prayers, no pork, no booze, no drugs, studious, elegant... Well at least she was when Daddy came to visit from Dubai, with gifts from his Cartier shop. She was the model muslim daughter; it was a thing of beauty. And she would see him off a Heathrow, before commencing her lengthy tube ride home to our flat on Holloway Road, were she would rip off that burka, and set about rolling herself a big fat joint in preparation for our night out to some big, dodgy, dark, sinister, crack filled 'nightclub'.

We often got ready together, she was a genuinely lovely girl, she was full of life, bold and streetwise, and she hated living a double life. I'll never forget the morning I found her Cartier lighter in our toilet,

"Alesha? You light your fags with Cartier?!"

"No I light my joints with Cartier! I must have passed out"

Anyway this was my first experience with cannabis and at the time I saw nothing wrong in chuffing it down my lungs til my head went spinny and I greened out. I vastly gave it up when I returned back to Kent, i just didn't live that lifestyle anymore, and i didn't miss it either. On the odd occasions I would save it for social gatherings, a few puffs when offered by friends and when I couldn't sleep after night shifts.

I'm getting to the 'bad boyfriend' bit, as this one will take some explaining.

You see I wanted to make it very clear that I, for many many years, did not have one little problem with this drug, apart from the fact I worked in mental health and knew there is strong evidence to suggest that smoking weed can bring on/ trigger psychosis, depression and anxiety. I guess it had never affected me directly, actually it had only ever been a nice, happy chilled thing to do...

Until around three years ago when I met Steve.

Steve used to smoke weed too, infact we met several years ago, and would socially have a smoke together, nothing happened between us back then, we both felt something for each other, but never let on, and we both had partners, so nothing ever happened... Until the latter part of the noughties that is.

When we met up via Facebook (yeh lame I know). We went for a drink, he told me he'd always liked me, and I confessed I once wished he was mine. One thing lead to another, as it does, and we ended up in a relationship. It felt like it was meant to be, like we were made for each other, I was thrilled to finally be with the man I once desperately wanted but couldn't have, and I think I mistook this for love. At least right now, I don't remember ever being in love with him.

HOW APT

When we started going out Steve told me he had given up weed, he smoked, we both did, but I didn't ever see him roll a joint until our first Valentines day together :(

It was pretty disheartening. He was out of work and was staying with me, pretty much rent free. The arrangement was that he bought some food and tried to find work. Anyway I needed a break and booked us a 4* hotel in central London, and theatre tickets for valentines weekend. He had been depressed for a while and I wanted to make him happy. He was really pleased I did it and told me he would make it up to me, but he didn't need to because a relationship is a partnership right? It's not about owing favours or paying each other back it's just about mutual care and respect, at least this is my take on things.

We awoke on Valentines morning in a beautiful hotel room, and it was all very romantic, until he sat up in bed, pulled out a bag of green and started fixing Rizlas together and I was a bit taken back. I asked him what the fuck he was doing? His reply...

"I'm on holiday"

If it makes it any better, he spent his whole JSA on a bottle of champers and a bunch of flowers for me. Who said romance is dead huh?!

                                    This also means something else, but we won't go there....

It all went downhill after that. He continued to smoke that shit whilst I continued to pay for everything. I started working two jobs to survive, evenings in a pub and days at my day job.

Sometimes I asked him to walk me home from the pub, but he couldn't because he had a WOW battle to attend.

He never ever seemed stoned and I rarely saw him smoking weed after that weekend. I was pretty convinced for a while that he had just smoked 'on holiday'

Our relationship turned bad, we rowed about silly things almost daily, I tried and tried to make things work, I was so desperate not to fail again, it was vital to me that things got better.

Anyway, it didn't get any better... In fact... It got so much worse...

A couple of weeks before we broke up, Steve began accusing me of cheating on him. This made me angry. It's something I've never done, it's just not in me, I can't deal with guilt, I can lie, it makes me sick with anxiety.

Ok there was one time I snogged a boy in Images in 1998, behind my boyfriends back when I was high on 90's trance and Tia Maria. I had a breakdown the next day and confessed all to him and he forgave me (I was so lucky, because he was a good one).
 

                                                                The scene of the crime

Anyway, Steve knew of a previous boyfriend I had, whom I was still friends with on my Facebook. Now this previous one was a liability too, not towards me but probably to the public in general. Anyway let's call him Phil.

One day Phil made the mistake of commenting on one of my many Facebook statuses.

Why is it as soon as you mention Facebook it all sounds a bit 'Jeremy Kyle'?

Anyway Steve saw this and immediately felt the need to tell me I must be shagging him.

"he hasn't commented for 7 months, your shagging him!"

Like it wasn't even a question. Steve's mind was made up. I was shagging Phil.

So we had lots of rows and in the end Steve said...

"I'm going to kill that Phil, I know people round here, I'll find him and smash his fucking face in"

Now this actually did concern me, as a few months prior to this I had discovered my bad boyfriend had some particularly bad connections with some particularly bad people and I knew that finding Phil might be particularly easy. I text Phil one of the strangest texts I've ever sent.

Dear Phil. Long time no see! It's me btw, you might have deleted my number. Erm... My bf Steve wants to kill you, he things you are shagging me. I think he's serious. Erm... Just watch your back. Sorry!

He replied,

Don't worry, I'm not bothered, hope your ok, do you need protection?

Ok... So Phil knows and he's not bothered.

And so we plodded on for a few days until Steve comes home late one night with a black eye.

"What the fuck happened" I was concerned.

"Don't pretend you don't know???!!!"

"I don't know"

"He hasn't called you today has he?"

"Who?"

"Phil?" with a smug glint in his eyes.

"What did you do?!"

"Lets just say he won't be walking for a very long time!"

"Who did you hurt?" Me pretty frightened.

"Phil"

"No you didn't, you couldn't, I don't believe you"

"It was him, tattoo on his left forearm, blonde hair, 6ft, can fucking walk" He laughs and stares at me like a stupid possessed person.

"Phil is bald"

"Oh"

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT"

He lunges towards me, holding both my shoulders in his big hands.

"WHAT?!!" His forehead pressed against mine.

He spits in my face, and I wait for the pain to hit me. And then I lose it, like properly lose it.

"DO IT, FUCKING DO IT, I DON'T FUCKING CARE ANYMORE"

Tears in my eyes, he backs off.

He says...

"If you go to sleep tonight you won't wake up"

And after endless rows, endless accusations, guilt trips, verbal abuse and manipulation, I went to bed.

In the morning I was disappointed to wake up alive.

And then he started again, he had been up all night, smoking weed, working out crazy theories about me and Phil and had decided Phil and I want him dead.

"I know I won't be alive by the end of today, I know Phil and you are going to kill me. I'm going out today, I'll get him this time, and I'll kill you both before you get me. I'll kill him first, slowly whilst you watch, that'll teach you for fucking around"

And then he lost it... He completely lost it. All I remember is screaming and shouting and roaring and the sound of things breaking, and I ran.

I ran to the police station.

Thats the last time I saw him in my home.

He was charged with threats to kill and bailed and I sought advice from a domestic violence charity. I then spent every last penny to pay for a non molestation order, so he couldn't come near me or my home for a year.

The CPS dropped the charges through lack of evidence, but I had what I needed. Freedom.

When clearing up his stuff, what did I find? About £40 worth of green, and some scales, turns out he was dealing the whole time. He also left with a kitchen knife... Unless I find it hidden away one day I'm pretty sure he had it on his person when he was arrested. I liked that knife. But the scariest thing was the paranoia, and what it cost me, emotionally, it was devastating.

You know I always wonder if there was a poor innocent guy who ended up hurt because my boyfriend couldn't stop getting high.  If there was, then I would like to apologise to that man.

So that's my cannabis story. It's not as funny, but I wanted to share it. Let the fun resume with something beginning with D!
 

'B is for BEER' and THE BAD BOYFRIEND BEER POEM

Well.  I spent a long time toying with the letter B and what I could possibly discuss relating to it in terms of the bad boyfriend.  After 3 agonising minutes, I decided there is really only one 'B word' that I could blog about and that word is BEER.

                                                                  'B is for BEER'

Do you know what, I like beer. Actually it's one of my favourite things to drink.  Most recently at a barbeque with friends I created and drank a pint of chocolate ale with a scoop of salted caramel ice cream in it... like a beer float, and it was yummy, nobody else really agreed, well, one chap did, but his theory was that any alcoholic drink consumed in quantity can become pleasing, even if you think it tastes fucking awful at first sip.  I get this, I once thought gin tasted horrible, how ridiculous!  'Gin' the cure of all bad in the world!  Crazy!

I didn't really date a serious beer drinker until around the 2006 mark, when I was 25.  I was kind of naive to the world of alcoholism, well just naive to the damage alcohol can do to a person and a relationship....

I have too many beer stories to tell, and I will probably come to each and every one of them throughout the course of this blog, so I have written a Bad Boyfriend Beer poem....

THE BAD BOYFRIEND BEER POEM

It hadn't been a long time

but that night when he was pissed (again)

he took her by the hand

and on her finger he laid a kiss

He said, I love you pretty darling

and, I love you all the time

and, I want to make you happy

and, then he fell asleep on the sofa....

So she plucked the stella from his fingers

and kissed him on the head

she really should be angry

but she dragged him up to bed

(he was really fucking heavy)

And they lay together

whilst she dreamed of what could be

and he lay on his back snoring

until she slept (eventually)

Morning came and he awoke her

with some flowers and a kiss

and everything was perfect

"happy birthday Elmonalis"

It's elmonalissa's birthday

she's really super pleased,

her boyfriend has a suprise for her,

he's gonna get down on one knee

And so it was they parted

as she spent the day with friends

and he went off to work

to earn her birthday spends ;)

(well probably enought to put a bluey on the electric)

That evening when she saw her cake

and candles all aglow

she made a secret wish

that he would show (her what he had in his jacket pocket so hurry up already)

And so they ate together

and munched on chocolae cake

and she gazed into his (bleary) eyes

and wondered if she's made a (terrible) mistake

He'd only had 6 carling cans

he usually handled more

he seemed a little swayey

as he stumbled into the kitchen door (and bumped his stupid head, and fell over)

(so he had one glass of her wine to ease the pain)

...

And there it was, it happened

in the kitchen, on the floor

he told her that he loved her

and to get his jacket from the door

As she fumbled in his pockets

she felt dispairingly

as she saw her future husband

shitfaced... totally

And there it was he asked her

if she would ...

He said

"you wanna make a go of this then bird"

"Erm.... this is not how I pictured it to be honest, can you ask me tomorrow when you're sober"

TO BE CONTINUED.........

Bad Boyfriend A-Z.... 'A is for Absenteeism'

Elmonalissabeth's bad boyfriend A-Z

The following is a handy in-depth guide to bad boyfriend behaviour. It is entirely based my lived experiences. In writing this I discovered A-Z doesn't cover everything, for example... B has been tricky (beer, barmaids, bums, bellybutton fluff, bitching, beastiality). 

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer - if you happen to notice any of these traits in your own bad boyfriend, I would advise you start planning a handy escape fund, perhaps 50 quid a week or so, so when you finally come to your senses and realise his lack of full potential, or the fact that you will never change him, or you find that photo of a minge on his blackberry, or he admits he'd like to kill you... You can easily escape with enough cash to rent a secret hotel until the coast is clear!  Saying that, if cash is tight, get down to the council on the next Monday morning, they can set you up a nice safe house... With a crime reference number of course.

Disclaimer 2.... I am blogging about real men... real experiences, and even though most of these guys deserve a name and shame, that's not what this is about, so I have changed everyones names, some particular boyfriends have several new names... (I have suffered a tragic love life, but have not had 26 boyfriends).  I must add that 'A' discusses the behaviour of 'Rick'... now... I have a mate called Rick...


Dear Rick...

Although we all know you like a cider... and there are many occassions where you have no relocollection of what you did the night before... we have never dated and this is not about you, I love you to bits, but due to your continued comsumption of ale and pork scatchins we will never be compatible.

'Absenteeism'

You are at home, Eastenders is on and you are nursing a glass of Pinot, in the smug knowledge you have the whole sofa to yourself. His dinner is in the oven because he had to rush to his poorly mums, she was out of painkillers and needed a hug from her best son. He said he'll be home by 9, and that's cool, all he does is hog the tele and fart anyway.

It's 10pm, you call him. He doesn't answer.

                              Some years ago he would have seen this on his mobile telephone.

It's 10.45pm, you call his mum to make sure he hasn't died on the way home.

"Alright Brenda, where's Rick, he said he was popping up with your painkillers and he's not home yet", you casually enquire.

"what are you talking about, I've been at Doris's Ann Summers party all evening I just got home" says Brenda.

(GILFS IN LATEX.... WHERE IS HE.... GILFS PLAYING PASS THE DILDO.... WHERE IS HE.... REALISATION THAT YOU ARE MILF AGE... IF HE'S IN THAT PUB.... vomit enters mouth.... )

                                                  Never let me get a perm like this.

*calmly hang up the phone.... put pinot down on side... take deep breath...*

FUCKING PRICK!

So where is he?! Is he actually dead... 

"I hope he's dead...."

11.45pm you call again and he answers...

"Alright Rick, hows your Mum?!"

"Oh yeh she's alright so I popped out for a pint on the way home" - He says without one single frickin ounce of guiltyness.

                                                          But I don't even drink?

"You are so fucking dead"

".....'ere love could you leave a tenner out for my lunch tomorrow"

"Why?"

"Ahhh well, I kinda owed a mate a few quid and I can't find my bank card"

"Are you playing poker???"

"nah.., I'm done with all that, it's for mugs"

"Oh right because Kates out and she saw you" (obvious bluff)

"Oh right... well yeh I did have a few games yeh"

"Screw your tenner". Hang up phone. 

 *kick washing machine*

                                          He's rolling doubles again....

4am

VERY LOUD DOOR KNOCKING

... You open door, you shouldn't but your too eager to knock his stupid face off.
 

"Alright darlin, want some kebab it's extra garlicy".  Said with a big stupid grin and rolly eyes whilst swaying like a erm... Massive dickhead.

He proceeds towards the toilet where he spends the next 15 minutes trying to piss and eat kebab at the same time, some might call this multi-tasking but I just call it, being a humongous cockjockey.

You make him sleep on the sofa, which in turn smells 'extra garlicy' and of fart for the next 10 days. You hate his guts. You wish you had taken that smelly sofa with said pissed boyfriend still comatosed on it and dropped it in a giant 3-piece-suite sized grave in the back garden...  You get the picture....

Look at this idiot I found on google images... why the hell didn't I ever do this?  The opportunities were abundant.

                                            Wrap 'em in plastic and drop 'em in a hole.

It doesn't get better. You end up going out one night to find him leering over a dirty barmaid whom everyone knows has syphillis.

                                          Head in vice anyone?

Trust me it never gets better.

Let's move on... It gets better than this... trust me I'm still in therapy :/

Muchos Lovos from EL xxxx

What if he hates my muffin tops?

I guess I'm just one of those girls who is desperate to be liked. 

This can make dating a little bit scary, especially when you've spent the last couple of weeks hiding behind your laptop screen, photoshopping dodgy pics to make yourself thinner, prettier, less spotty, muffin topless and unrecognisable.

"Oh I do hope he like's my prom pics from 2004"

There are certain fears any inocent single girl will suffer from, even though it's only drinks... dinner... a movie, with the expectation that you might like each other enough to meet up again and nothing else.

See, when you've spent the last year in a trusting, committed relationship with a man who knows everything about you, there are certain things you don't need to stress about so much...

• Silence.  In a relationship silence is a beautiful thing, it starts of being a comfortable 'I'm lying in his arms and he is in my arms and we are just lying together in silence and its so romantic' to 'I'm facebooking in bed on the laptop in silence and he's playing Words with Friends on his phone on the toilet' kinda silence... equally comfortable in their own ways.  Silence on a date is EXCRUTIATING nobody sits in silence on a date thinking 'oh isn't this nice!'  NOBODY. 

                                           

"Chicken?"

"Erm..... No thanks"

"Oh you don't like chicken?"

"Not really"

"Erm...."

"Erm..."

• Making a fool of yourself.  Another thing that's completely ok, between you and your partner, you know each other, you do silly things together, these silly things end up becoming future talking points you can entertain (bore) your hypothetical grandchildren with in 40 years time at family Christmas gatherings.  On a date... it's just painful.  I once dated a man who told me a story about the time he was on a date with a girl in a restaurant.  He excused himself to use the toilet, anyway, I can only assume he wanted to stroke her face or something because he washed his hands, and in the process completely soaked his jeans with water, making it appear he had pissed all over himself.  He removed the offending article and tried to fix the problem under the hand-dryer... in vain.  He really liked her... but he escaped out the back entrance, leaving her alone... with the bill, rather than attempting to explain that he hadn't pissed all over himself!  I later found out he was actually this wankerish in real life too!  I digress....  Last date I went on... I was super nervous and I tripped over nothing, I also attempted to drink some wine and missed my mouth... what followed these incidents?... SILENCE.  Did we see each other again?  NO.

"Ground? Swallow me alive"

• He knows how big/small/wonky your tits are, without need for super corsettry or ridiculously padded bras.  Likewise... you only have to wear your Bridget Jones knickers to special occassions because you can fit into that size 12 dress properly without them; and your significant other knows you are wearing them, because you told him, or he witnessed you jumping up and down on the spot, risking a stroke, trying to cram every last little bit of muffin top, because you no longer have any dignity.  I have this issue, I have a whole range of 'super pants' for all kinds of occasions... dates are not one of those occassions.  Let's refer back to Bridget Jones as this explains why perfectly :) 

"I can't wait for him to rip of my spanx" - Shit nobody says.

• He knows all the bad stuff, your secrets, deepest insecurities, you can trust him to keep them safe and support you when times are tough.  YOU CANNOT SPILL THIS SHIT ON A FIRST DATE, infact these things take time and I guess they are part of really getting to know and trust each other in a healthy relationship.  I have done this... a (much younger) super nervous me went on a date with a nice young man I met on the bus.  Yes it's true we met on the bus.  He always got on before me and when I got on we would smile at each other, he was good looking, but a bit ginger, anyway, one day as he wobbled past me to exit and gave me his bus ticket.  He has scribbled his number on it... I didn't even know his name.  It was exciting and a bit romantic.  He had obviously scribbled it whilst actually travelling on the bus, either that or his handwriting was really shoddy.  I text him and we met a few evenings later by the marina for drinks.  He was lovely, I remember thinking I really liked him, but was super anxious he wouldn't like me... anyway, I drank some wine... actually by some I mean about 6 large glasses... and proceeded to tell him how I had just split up with my ex, and he was super angry about it and refusing to leave the house we shared and we were having this massive battle about who was leaving and he threw a telephone at my head but it missed (then showed him evidence pictures of the big hole in the wall on the phone just incase I wanted to involve the police), and that he was gonna go mad that I was out drinking with another man because he is majorly jealous in quite a violent way, and he owed me several thousands of pounds, so I had no money and baliffs knocking my door down everyday.......

... He didn't call me again :(  I can't imagine why! 

You know when I meet Mister Right... I know I will be able to confide in him.  I have experienced so much in my little time on earth, and I really believe that a person needs to understand my past to fully understand who I am now.  There's a lot I have never told anybody, I do have secrets.  When the time is right and the person is right, I'll get those secrets of my chest.  But until that time i'll keep them with me, locked away inside this complicated little head, you never know perhaps they will make it onto the blog in years to come...


Now I'm just wondering what sort of insecurities my male couterparts might be dealing with?!!....

"Erm..."

Much love and hiccups

EL xxx

What to do when your heart gets crushed into little tiny pieces.

Ok, the subject matter is huge and complicated, but it’s something I have wanted to explore for a while.  See I have had more than my fair share of heartbreak.  I know this all sounds very sad and very tragic, but I have come to view it as part of my life, something that happens and genuinely (excuse the cliché, god I hate clichés), makes me stronger as woman.

The pain of heartbreak NEVER gets any easier, it just gets easier to deal with.

I loved my last boyfriend, I will never deny that for a whole year he was my entire world, solar system and universe; I truly adored him and would have moved mountains for him and every single other cheesy song lyric that has been written.  But he didn’t see it that way. I do not have a bad word to say about him.  C’est la vie Elmonalissabeth, C’est la vie. 

Whenever someone has broken up with me I always do that thing where I pretend I don’t give a damn, I shovel a whole load of eyeliner on my face and stand proud; ‘in your face ex-boyfriend’!  Then I have usually had a massive meltdown, alone, friendless, isolated and broken.  It took a good, 5 years to fully get over my first love, and on another occasion I ended up swallowing way too many sleeping pills, and following that incident I vowed NEVER to be that broken EVER again.

I did that hard faced thing this time around, I brushed it all off like I didn’t care, like I saw it coming, and it was totally mutual, but deep down my universe had just crumbled and I didn’t know what else to turn to.  After a day or two, I felt fraudulent, like I had cheated myself out letting my emotions go, sending them to emotion room 101 or whatever, they were still inside me, eating away at everything, everything I did, said, and looked at; it felt so uncomfortable.  This time it was different and I think I know why.  See, I cannot bury my emotions like I used to, I have buried a whole heap of nasty shit and I now know that all it does is creep out when you least expect it... and usually fuck up another relationship... do we see a cycle forming?  So... I confided in my friends, old friends, new friends, strangers (those poor strangers!)  I wrote probably way too much on Facebook and Twitter and anywhere else that would take my words, until they just... ran dry.  I ran out of words, I had nothing left to say.  Bereft of the emotion. 

I had exorcised myself from a love demon.... well sort of....

I have done several things to help me get over such a huge tragedy, and all have come from the experience of having my heartbroken a little too many times.  I actually made a conscious effort to do particular things to help me with... well... moving on I guess...

Here are some things what I did...

·         I dyed my hair.  Twice in one week.  I dyed it from peroxide blonde to brown and I should have known better, because I don’t really get on with averagey normal hair colours like.. brown... so anyway, I went black and I love it!  The good thing about your hair (if you have hair I don’t wanna offend any... erm...  bald people) is that you have control over it and when things in your life seem so out of hand, bleach, scissors and dyes can work miracles and you can get exactly what you want.  This takes the control away from the person who just destroyed your life and put things nicely back in your hands.  Even if it is for a little while.

·         I went out to do some karaoke with one of my closest friends.  Now this night didn’t go to plan as I met a total prick who gave my bacardi some sort of drug that they use to paralyse elephants and I woke up on a trolley in a hospital surrounded by what can only be described as crazy ‘pissheads’.  Prior to this though I was having a good old time!  The good thing about this and I am going to focus on the positive (I could write another 20 blogs on the negatives), is that this whole nasty incident, kinda put my mission to take care of number one in perspective.  In all seriousness I could have died, but I didn’t, I am still alive, and I am going to make the most of it!  Hooray!

·         I joined ‘previously blogged about’ dating site.  I chatted to many strange men, and I received many nice compliments and it made me feel very special and nice.

·         I decided I want to buy a house, and I have been spending time investigating ways in which this can be made possible.  And it is very possible and something I am very focused on doing.  Never put your whole future in the hands of another because when they go they take your future with them.  This is why I am making my future right here, right with me.

·         I have a huge flat clearout.  It is still in progress, but I have completely cleared a huge messy corner of my bedroom, and have 30 dresses to sell on ebay; with the money I make I am having a tattoo on my leg, to commemorate my first 30 years and my inner strength.

·         I have lost weight.  Only 6lbs so far, but enough to give me a little confidence boost, and get back into my skinny jeans again J

·         Throughout this all I have made some really special friends and we have fun things planned, and I am sure you will hear all about our adventures! 

Would I fall in love again?  Yes.  Without a doubt.  Being in love with someone (who loves you back... that helps), is the most amazing feeling in the world.  I thank every man I loved for giving me the chance to have such a powerful emotion, even the complete arseholes who ended up making my life a total misery.

Ooooh.... guess who has applied to go on Take Me Out..... I SO NEED TO GET THIS AUDITION!  I won it at Pontins and I’ll win it on tele!  Watch this space!

Massive lovage, EL xxx