So Long Lemonade

(I’m Feeling Beyoncé’s Lemonade so hard right now …)

Ah lads, where do I start?

Well, I’ve not been feeling great for the past few weeks. So haven’t been posting – I suppose you need to be inspired to do that and I was barely inspired enough to get up before wetting the bed most mornings. Honestly that was the driving factor that saw me pull the duvet covers back from my ever-expanding and neglected body – not pissing the bed. Or shitting it as was the case some mornings. They ain’t great reasons to have a good day, but they certainly are good drivers to have a less rubbish return to bed in the evening.


I have depression. Bad depression that I’ve been sharing a house with for over a decade. It’s the worst housemate I promise. And this is including living with someone who once saw the 1 knife, 1 plate and 1 cup I left from breakfast  – fill the sink with hot water and detergent and wash only their own dishes. (what?? It must have been more work to take them out of the sink, wash their own dishes and then put back mine?) And the two dudes who did not buy hand soap or toilet paper for 3 years ….. I don’t know what went on in their bathrooms before I came on the scene.  But I’d take those anal dish avoiders and soap aversioners than depression any day. (well maybe not any day, I really am very clean and tidy)

I of course digress.

I’ve let things slide here, I’ve not logged on in over a month, nor have I answered or monitored any comments. I lost interest in most things in my life. Just getting up and going to work was the most I managed. The most I strived for. Except for drinking – I managed a good bit of that. Along with tryna keep a sunny side out on Twitter.

I had of course been seeing – or at least sleeping with people. I say people but mostly just the one. We had a nice arrangement, we met up, we had sex, we ate food we watched movies. What was not to like.

I wrote about him here. He was that good.

A bit too good though, so it seems.


The more we did it the better it got. He had dom tendencies, I liked that. He had a massive cock, I liked that even more. But he knew what he was at with his mouth and fingers and his appetites were voracious … or enough that I could see. Clue one, he never really stayed over so maybe he didn’t have as big an appetite as I thought. I wouldn’t know as we didn’t ever spend 24hrs together.


He said from the start that he didn’t want a relationship. That’s fine. He wasn’t my type, I didn’t want that from him either, I was happy with just sex. Sex that started off as quite good but then grew to be fucking mind-blowing. He made me squirt nearly all the time. That’s no mean feat. And I made my self determined to be the one to fit him in my ass, I mentioned his size, well it’s the girth that’s the thing. It is fat, so fucking deliciously fat. And no one had persevered  – or so he told me. Who fucking knows that could have been lies also.


But see. Some people are like little hills that you cycle up. You don’t feel the exertion, you’re not out of breath, you’re not having to stand up off the saddle, you’re just pacing along nicely – and somehow you reach the top. But ….. it’s only when you are facing the other way, and have to go back down that hill that you realise just how steep it was, just how fast your decent is going to be. Just how much of a crash you’re in for if you don’t make it, slow down or handle the brakes right. (If you don’t cycle this is probable a really shit analogy for you …?)

How is that possible? To not notice getting so high? Well it is. And there’s a hill like that in Dublin and when I came down it one day having recently just cycled up it I was shocked at the pace I was flung at. I mean this literally.


But this guy. This guy is the figurative representation of that. I didn’t feel myself doing any exerting to get him to like me. Or make room for him in my life. I didn’t care what he thought of me because I didn’t want to go out with him. I said what I liked, did what I liked, acted how I wanted. I called, texted as much or as little as I felt I wanted or needed to.

No rules, no holding back. And he seemed ok with it.

But we contacted a lot. He worked near me. We had sex during the day at his place of work, once at mine. But mostly it was my house. Clue number two that Abbi did not see.



I don’t know if I have the energy or the will to keep writing this story, or how much good it will do anyone. …  But I’ll try.

I want to eviscerate him but I don’t think I can …. just because, I have no lust for it. Or anything, not even doughnuts right now… (that’s bad)

So I wasn’t talking about him much, so none of my friends really had much detail on him. Until the other day when I was talking about him to my bestmate. She said it sounded like I was starting to like him, I was speaking differently – if you know Sex and The City the TV Show, he was Harry. I had completely undersold him and had seen him as just sex, when all along it was plain that he might have been perfect for me; so we mused.

(awww what dopes we were)

But my bestie is no fool, and she is too fond of me to let anyone into my life without a little (and now de rigueur, let’s admit) internet stalking. (She has a new born that’s still on the boob, she’s had other things to be thinking of so that explains exactly why this didn’t happen sooner).


One Facebook click and she found him. Married. Less than a year from when we had started being in contact with each other. I thought maybe it was a photoshoot …. he was posing for a photographer friend …. ? This is way too shocking, this is funny, there’s an explanation, there’s something . THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING … Jesus God lord give me something that makes this ok …. something. Oh God please …..


Nope. He’s married. Properly, happily if photos are anything to go by. They’re not by the way, photos are liars.


So, they were screen shot and sent to me, which in turn I sent to him. He is of course so, so, sorry. (please hear that in a Fr.Jack Hackett voice cos that’s how I’m saying it.) He didn’t mean for  ….. and I really cannot be fucked with the fuckery of the rest of that conversation. Either typing it or boring you with having to read what you can already guess cos you’re all over the age of 15 and have heard this fucking horse shit before.


I’m floating. I’m adrift. I’m in the middle of a roaring river of rapids and I have no paddle. I don’t know what to do and I can’t see anything to cling on to around me. No anchor, nothing in my head will land on anything that will make this seem any better. Because there is no better… there is nothing.

Until there is! Well – my brain starts bargaining with me – what if he is planning on leaving her? He did ask me to be patient and go slow? Maybe?





But would you take someone back knowing that? The deceit? The sleight of hand, the artifice? The treacherey …COURSE YOU FUCKING WOULD. All of us would for the right person, so don’t bother lying to yourselves. My life is littered with people who are now in happy relationships that started like this. Some worse than this.


But I knew …. I felt that that was not to be my fate. But I will kill something until I know it’s dead. It’s the 49th rule of war apparently, until you see a dead body the thing is not dead.


So at 4.26am he emails me – I’ve him blocked from everywhere else. And it wakes me as I’m not sleeping heavily – quelle surprise. But I want answers; WHAT HAPPENS NOW. What does he want, where did he think this would go? WHAT THE FUKING HELL DOES HE WANT FROM ME? Well, here you go: He loves her like a best friend, but the passion is gone, he wants kids with her. He is staying with her. He knew before he married her but did it anyway.


I am disgusted. Do what you have to do to get by people I know only too well how fucking hard this life is – but don’t drag me into it. Give me the information to make my own choices. I was not afforded that choice. SHE was not afforded that choice. This is not a judgement on anyone except for removing my right to choose. And god knows I’m fighting hard enough in Ireland for that already. see here


I owe her nothing. I owe him even less but I won’t be exposing him simply because I don’t see the point for me. There is nothing to be gained from it. AND NOT – in case any smart arses want to point out – because I had trusted him enough to tell him about this blog. And so he could of course take me down also.


I’m at a low ebb. I have taken stress leave from work. If anyone knows anything about horses then you know this, if they lie down because of hoof problems it’s good and bad; it’s good that they have lain down, but it means that they probably won’t be getting back up. I have finally taken the stress leave that I needed to take from work but  …. I really cannot see how my hooves will repair. This, this fuckbaggery here? This is just one bit of it that I got a last post and chorus out of. It is not the sole reason for why I need to be off work.


I have a counsellor, a psychiatrist, a psychologist but most importantly I have amazing friends and the world’s greatest sister who is married to a man that I would CHOOSE as a real brother not just a brother in law. I have a lot. I just can’t feel it most days. I just feel the pressure of my bladder and so I rise. And for that alone.


But all this  – it has reminded me how vulnerable I am. How vulnerable it makes my family and so I’m shutting down …. but mostly cos I give up right now. I give up on people. I will not be the fucking side chick again.


But don’t cry for me Argentina – I’m grand. Or I will be. Or won’t, whatever. I’m just a tiny spec on a tinier blue spec in the cosmos and this will mean nothing soon.



It was a blast guys. You, YOU lot made me feel special.