At only twenty years old, I believe I have had my fair share of bad luck, nay, terrible luck with the oppsite sex. Haven’t we all. The main thing to remember, is that there IS someone out there for everyone. We may find them at 16, or 66. On a night out, in the work place, even on the internet! These days, there are factors such as technology, drugs, 21st century over confidence and facebook, that make it difficult to find ‘the one.’ The factor this blog explores: Drugs.
I didn’t think my luck with fellas could get any worse until I met one guy. At the time. I thought I was in for my luck, but later found I was way out infact. I met him at a Bar through mutual friends. I had always thought he had the phwoarr factor. He was tall, gorgeous and yeah had a bit of a dodgy hair cut, but he did have a pierced nose which for some strange reason always gets me in a man. We really hit it off straight away, which is uncommon for me. He bought me drinks (check,), moved very well on the dance floor (check), made me do the laugh where I tilt my head back and give out a loud but acceptable cackle, which not many people can do (check). And he was a ruddy astonishing kisser, and when we kissed, as cliché as it sounds, it really did feel like we were the only two in the room (check check check!) That night, he asked for my number and as time went on, he started introducing me to his friends, buying me more drinks, kissing me in front of more people, and my head tilting became rather recurrent, slight neck ache mind, but all was well worth it.
I thought 'this could just be it.' After all, his friends and mine were constantly blabbering on about how we would be good together…(I say blabbering, but I absolutely loved how much we were talked to and about, ‘No, stop it… really??? You really think so??’ I’d say.) We had everything in common, from music and films, to favourite places and food, even opinions. Little things made me praise the idea of fate and destiny. My favourite moment was at his place one Friday night, where he made me listen to a song off an old Kings of Leon album, clueless to the fact it is my most listened to song ever. But with perfection comes imperfection, and with every bond there is to make there is another bond to break And brace yourself, this isn’t pretty.
I thought 'this could just be it.' After all, his friends and mine were constantly blabbering on about how we would be good together…(I say blabbering, but I absolutely loved how much we were talked to and about, ‘No, stop it… really??? You really think so??’ I’d say.) We had everything in common, from music and films, to favourite places and food, even opinions. Little things made me praise the idea of fate and destiny. My favourite moment was at his place one Friday night, where he made me listen to a song off an old Kings of Leon album, clueless to the fact it is my most listened to song ever. But with perfection comes imperfection, and with every bond there is to make there is another bond to break And brace yourself, this isn’t pretty.
After a night out dancing at our favourite club, he had got far too intoxicated for his own good. So some of his friends and I took him back to his flat where he lived with a very mysterious, drug-orientated, hippy-wanabee flat mate. I didn’t see her much, she was always, I don’t know at some festival or dealing or something. But I knew from the start there was something not quite right about her. Her tattood body, septum piercing, butch build and I-am-making-much-more-that-a-statement outfits for some reason kinda threatened me. I had her down as a lesbian and thought the reason she didn’t like me was because she maybe developed a little crush through our awkward 30 second meetings in the hallway. But I was oh so wrong. Infact, it wasn’t me she had the desire for, nor any other woman. It was him. And how did I know this?
That same night, I fell asleep on the sofa during the early hours of the morning whilst she was feeding him line after line of some dirty drug. About 4.am, I woke up to a dripping noise coming from the ceiling above me. I like to think it was some kind of stupid cupid or God of love (I’m not religious, but there has to be some little joker up there having some sort of laugh controlling who gets screwed over, who gets screwed, and who lives happily everly afterly,) waking me up…’Chelsea, wake up…you’ve gotta see this. So I got up, and go to the kitchen, to find some sort of leak catching apparatus, only to look into his room, to find someone other than me on top of him, doing stuff to him that well…lets just say the leak was a good cause of symbolism as well as a warning sign. Shocked and …stupid, I still sorted the leak. I didn’t cry, or shout, or attack Kat Von Dee with the saucepan I used for the water, instead, I accepted that I had fallen for another narcissist and left him one last note before quietly letting myself out...
‘ Dear Nathan*, you appear to have a leak in your ceiling, as well as your personality.’
That same night, I fell asleep on the sofa during the early hours of the morning whilst she was feeding him line after line of some dirty drug. About 4.am, I woke up to a dripping noise coming from the ceiling above me. I like to think it was some kind of stupid cupid or God of love (I’m not religious, but there has to be some little joker up there having some sort of laugh controlling who gets screwed over, who gets screwed, and who lives happily everly afterly,) waking me up…’Chelsea, wake up…you’ve gotta see this. So I got up, and go to the kitchen, to find some sort of leak catching apparatus, only to look into his room, to find someone other than me on top of him, doing stuff to him that well…lets just say the leak was a good cause of symbolism as well as a warning sign. Shocked and …stupid, I still sorted the leak. I didn’t cry, or shout, or attack Kat Von Dee with the saucepan I used for the water, instead, I accepted that I had fallen for another narcissist and left him one last note before quietly letting myself out...
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