This blog is for me. It’s like a diary. I get messages from folk who read it and that’s cool and all, but it’s just a diary. The good, the bad and the ugly.

 

So I re read my blog posts occasionally. The last blog post I wrote about this dude, was a bit on the sassy side. I’m trying this new thing… where I don’t speak until anger passes. I don’t like myself when i’m angry and in bitch mode. I don’t like myself when i’m passive aggressive. But here goes…. i’ll at least try.

 

To this dude,

It’s not your fault that I dug how much we laughed together. Or that it was at a time in my life I really needed to laugh.

It’s not your fault that I saw the red flags and selfishly ignored them.

It’s not your fault I skipped uni to hang with you, you encouraged me to not skip classes  and said we’d hang out after (which made me dig you more).

It’s not your fault that I chose to help you enjoy your leaving gift. You offered and my freeloading ass really wanted in on that. I was being a complete user. My fault. I didn’t particularly like you at this point. I remembered you as the jumped up little ass that was dating some bellend chick I used to call a friend (fuck knows why).

 

It’s not your fault I said yes to drinking your mum’s white wine out of that carton. I remember laughing at you for having wine in a carton. Let’s be honest, I laughed a lot that night. At you. At me. At the past. At the fish in your pond. At the stars and space and shit.

 

It’s not your fault that what you saw as a fling, a brief hook up, I saw as a possible future.

 

What is you fault?

It is your fault that you kissed me. I was not expecting that. I think the surprise made me dig it. I had literally just put on my shoes and stood back up.

It is your fault that you made out to me that your relationship was ending ‘literally [that] weekend’. It’s my fault I saw that as ‘it’s over’.

It is your fault that you made bullshit promises. Told me you’d ring me from NYC. Even showed me the phone box on that live cam feed.

It’s your fault you made that lame poster. It’s not your fault I was so stoked that it showed you listened to everything I said. I didn’t think you had. I do talk wayyyy too much (and too fast) when nervous. Or drunk. Or both.

It is your fault you told me you wanted me to visit you and we’d go see The Little Mermaid on Broadway.

It is your fault you asked me to hide in your wardrobe when you thought your mum was home. It’s not your fault that I actually considered it.

It is your fault you talked shit about me to your brother (admittedly unconfirmed, but I suspect you did).

It is your fault you rang me from Scotland at 2am and said I deserve better. It’s my fault for not taking that advice. You were drunk. I dug you more for saying I deserve better. I’ll take the blame on that.

It’s your fault that when I dropped you off at the train station and waited for you to jump out, you made me find somewhere to park to spend more time with me before you left. I literally thought you used me for a ride and couldn’t wait to get to Scotland.

It’s not your fault that I had such low self esteem that i’d allow myself to be used. That’s all on me.

It’s not your fault that I’ve felt inferior to other girls, and women, my entire life. That goes way back to a really dark and shitty part of my childhood.  It is your fault though that when I said your ex was ‘so pretty’ (even if she was a bitch, I was trying to see what you saw in her)… you talked over me and said ‘you’re stunning’. I doubt you meant it, but it took me by surprise. In my room. You probably forgot about that. I didn’t. You were so cool to me in that moment. Not for telling me i’m stunning, but the way you were agitated that I said she was and you seemed to not like that I was going on about her.

It’s your fault that when you got to NYC you found it amusing, the cruel way you broke up with your girlfriend. Quite honestly, everything you told me about your treatment of her makes you a massive D bag. But again, I ignored that. Sad thing is, I bet she’s awesome. You told me you just ignored her until she broke up with you. Do you even comprehend how cruel that is? You move across the Atlantic, and just cut off contact. That’s so far removed from cool dude.

What you did to me doesn’t even compare with that, but it still hurt.

You told me when you broke up you’d like me to visit you. No, not a total commitment but at least I thought it was at least a friendship blossoming and shit.

All I got were messages from you bragging about all the ‘break up sex’ you’ve had with chicks in NYC. Cause, NYC chicks are so awesome and all.  Classy. Real nice dude.

Do you realise how much that hurt?

It’s not your fault that I hand picked you those flowers when we were chilling by the water and you were on the phone.

But it is your fault that you kept them, and weeks later showed me that they’d dried and they were in your bag whilst you were riding the subway.

It’s not your fault that I fell for you, hard. But it’s your fault you didn’t let me forget you. Even ten years later. Even though you’re engaged. Have the career of your dreams, or at least well on your way.

It’s not your fault I accidentally kicked your macbook off of your sofa. But it’s your fault that you uncrossed my fingers when I crossed them in the hope it wasn’t broken. Again, you were so cool to me in that moment. I dug it. So much.

It’s not your fault that I am so emotionally scarred from my earlier years that I struggle in life. I am not like you. I get scared of the opportunities that come my way. I admire so much about you in that sense. You walked the walk, not just talked the talk. I self sabotage. I have a fear of so much in life. I am used to something really bad accompanying every good thing. This results in me shying away from good things. It’s a pattern in my life i’ve come to expect and let completely mess up my head.

I didn’t shy away from you though.  Most likely because I knew, not even that deep down, that you were not a good thing. Sorry, just being truthful.

This isn’t me being spiteful, or saying you’re a horrible human. Who am I to judge? I also put aside my morals when hanging out with you. Although it seemed to play on my conscience hell of a lot and not even affect yours.

The truth is, if I met you now I don’t think i’d like you.  Weird huh? You’re so successful, hang out and work with the most famous people on the planet, have travelled the world, live in sunny California, and yet you’re less attractive to me than you’ve ever been.

I’m sure plenty of chicks would jump on that. (no gross pun intended). I’m sure you’d have no problem with the ladies. I know you’re engaged, but let’s be honest, when has a long term commitment ever stopped you from having what you perceive to be ‘harmless fun’?

You fly on private jets, because it ‘makes sense’ and it’s so much faster. Cool. Go you! Legit made it huh? You live by the pacific ocean, have your own studio. Yay! That’s ace.

That guy I thought I knew doesn’t exist anymore. Let’s be honest he never really did. It’s not your fault that I clung to every little bit of kindness, thoughtfulness and each considerate thing you did and ignored the crap aspects of your character. That’s entirely on me. Sure you remembered what guitar I wanted, my favourite number, my love of care bears and Roxy and whatever else was crammed into that A4 sheet of paper that nobody got but us, that I had on my pin board. That my dumb ass didn’t take down when filming my Final Major Project at uni and I have to see it every time I see that shot. That’s on me. That’s my fault for slacking and momentarily not really being passionate about producing good work.

It is so not your fault I am painfully swoony and am so attracted to talent, ambition, humour and kindness. There were moments when you were really sweet. I’ve never forgotten them. Even now.  But now I realise a few moments of sweetness doesn’t really negate the unkind shit that left me feeling bitter.

I cringe when I think of myself back then. That I was so cocky and not into you and how that all changed that one night. How I went from not liking you, being a little bitch wanting to hang with you (leaving gift and all) and for some reason I saw sparks. (‘I SAW SPARKS’ – Thanks Chris Martin, you can have your lyric back now).

 

So, I apologise for being a dick. I’ve had many dick moments. I don’t deny that. But you really did fuck me up. Big time. This is so painfully embarrassing to admit, but fuck it. I’m not too proud to admit my faults.

I’m sorry for all the friends who had to hear me go on about you. And those who I would ask their opinion. Sorry to them for the advice I ignored.

 

(Sidetone: I’m not sorry to my ‘best friend’ at the time who was so harsh to me and told me I have no self respect for seeing you, said you were a ‘rat boy’ but then went on to kiss your ass after her and I fell out. I know you were amusing what you said about the ass kissing and not letting her singing ‘penetrate [your] ears’. Even when you’re being harsh you’re funny. When I didn’t want to laugh and wanted to tell you you’re being a tool and unnecessarily shit talking, you’d still make me laugh. Man, I dug that you were so cool about that and could see through it.  Being friends with someone who evidently didn’t actually like me all that much, even though I loved her to bits like a sister didn’t do any good for my self esteem. I wouldn’t want anyone to put her down but you were incredibly funny how you spoke even years later when I opened up to you about the self respect comment. The way you spoke about me, and the situation and that comment that really stung me, you made me feel so much better.  Fuck, that was hot.  How you were so cool and put things into perspective. How you pointed out that it was not cool she said that. To be fair, I still think she had a valid point, as harsh as the delivery of it was. )

 

 

They all told me to cut off contact. The good friends. The one’s I still call friends to this day. To be fair I did block you often, but you’d find a way.  (really though, my film email? shows you don’t respect my career ambition. It’s probably a joke to you, you’re ACTUALLY successful).

 

I’m sorry to all the guys I went on dates with after you left and hurt me. That I had absolutely no intention of dating them. I just missed you.  To be fair, some of them I tried to make clear it wasn’t a date from the start and asked if I could invite friends to the restaurants, cinema, wherever we went. But some, I was, admittedly, a dick around.  An ex of mine I ruined a friendship with trying to fill some void. I don’t speak to him anymore.

None of them were you. Man, they were far more my ‘type’ in so many ways, but no sparks.  Even the ones who were so funny, and hot and nice. So nice.  The ones who were well travelled and exciting and pretty awesome as humans.  I was painfully hung up on you and I don’t know why! To this day I don’t know why. It’s irritating as shit man.  The guys who flirted with me that came into my work and I was so uninterested because they weren’t you. Some pilot I met on a night out who I mocked saying he’s not a pilot (turned out he was, and he was actually a really sound guy… who was so persistent for so long and I was like ‘nah, i’ve developed a fear of flying’ I can’t go in a plane… or for a drink…)

Ah man, Clearly my own fault. Something in my brain wasn’t engaging. Maybe I tried to recreate moments that in hindsight weren’t as special as I thought they were.

Maybe I was forgettable to you. But if so why do you get in touch? I know you won’t now. Things got pretty heated the last time we spoke. So if one good thing comes of this all, and that lengthy back and forth, is it’s well and truly over. Well to be fair, can something be over if it never really started?

 

If I met you now I doubt i’d like you. I don’t think your impressive life would impress me much. (fucking Shania Twain, great).

It wouldn’t though. I mean it when I say i’m happy for with regards to your career success. You are so hard working and committed and talented. In a lot of aspects of life. Even the little video stop motion animation you did. I did stop motion at uni and you did a video for fun and it probably made my music video to ‘The Cure’ look wank. You were too polite to say what you really thought of my music video. Maybe you didn’t watch it, you did ignore me all that night and sit on your laptop until I went to leave. Then you switched on the ‘caring sweet considerate kind’ mode. Damn you.

fucker.

 

So maybe it’s so utterly lame I’m taking the time to write this. Whatevs. I spent far too long seeking your approval. Hoping you’d want to be friends. That we’d talk on the phone on occasion about random shit. Hoping it wouldn’t always turn to you being a sleaze.  It’s not flattering dude. It makes me feel like crap.  I bet you flirt with loads of women. Woo, go you. But I’m not envious of those. I am one of those. I’m envious of the women you respect. The ones you work for and converse with like a friend or colleague. I’m no longer envious of the ones you’ve committed to, because quite frankly your idea of commitment is a lot more relaxed (to put it nicely) than mine. I am not into polyamory  . And neither is your fiancé according to you, so even though it’s just words (and photos) you engage in, it’s still not faithful. And that makes you a dickhead.

 

So, I need to realise it’s my fault that I wanted you as a friend. To want to speak to me and maybe meet up sometime and hang. To want to talk to you when things are great, or shit. To be an ear if you needed a friend. To maybe celebrate some occasion together sometime.  High five you for doing so well.

I’m pretty sure you meet up with, visit friends. I’m pretty sure you see your friends, even the ones that live on a different continent.

 

You may think it reeks of desperation that I wanted to be your friend.  So lame that Stacey wanted to be friends with a guy she had a connection with and spent time with, even after having known him for years and not particularly liking him after a while, but then reconnecting and digging him.

 

I’ll miss you. Not you. But who I thought you were for that brief period we were kind of close.  I don’t mean when you hit me up on ‘face party’ then went on to date my friend and the awkward ‘date’ with her and you where us friends tagged along and I realised you were the same dude speaking to me online yet I had the decency to not ever mention it to her, or call you out on it.   I’ll miss the guy I laughed loads about it years later with. The guy who admitted that he was sh*tting himself when I was on the bus and looked at you realising that you, my friend’s new boyfriend, had been speaking to me online for an age.  Face party. Man I feel old.

I won’t miss the you that was not cool to your girlfriend’s. Being a dick to me is one thing, I was insignificant to you,  but why to them?  You loved them, surely?  You’d been with them for a long time. Surely you loved them?  But if you love someone you can’t bring yourself to hurt them, and if you do (and you’re a decent human) you certainly don’t find your shitty treatment of them amusing.  How could you be so unkind to them? I’m so grateful we never dated, even though you claimed you’d like to (if you weren’t moving away, and even when you moved claimed to want me to visit).

Maybe you’ve made it cool with those girls now. Really that’s none of my business. I know you’ve been in touch with the bitchy ex of yours, the one I (hesitantly) called a friend once. Baffling to me, but if that’s how you roll, you do you.

You say you hate yourself?

I don’t buy that. I think you hold yourself in such high regard that other people’s feelings are not even on your radar.

I know what it’s like to hate yourself. Believe me. This self love thing is new to me. It’s been a journey. A painful long emotional distressing one.

If you do hate yourself, I hope you heal and self reflect and grow as a person. If only you focused on personal growth as much as the growth of your career … and the list of ‘way famous a listers’ you roll with.

 

I’m writing this for me. I know you won’t find this blog, but this is my approach to saying what I would have said to your face if the opportunity allowed.

I’ll never know why you would want to talk to me.

It wasn’t your fault I answered your messages, but it was your fault that you told me you downed your drink and rushed back to your hotel room to speak to me. Even though you’d bumped into an old friend (oh that word, FRIEND)

It’s your fault you went out to buy a new phone charger because you forgot yours and sent me a photo from the NYC shop (That was open at that time because it’s New York City) and sent me the photo of that charger as you paid for it.

Don’t confuse my talking about friends as me conveying that I have a lack of. No. So not the case. I have plenty. Really sound folk. Really generous kind hilarious witty awesome people.

 

There was just something about you… I guess i’ll never figure it out. Why you didn’t forget me … or your ex who was, in your words, ‘the worst girl you ever dated’… the one who had a bat shit crazy mum and annoying lame bitchy sisters. The one you sent a message to from your kitchen that night, and asked if you could put my name on it, and my drunk ass said ‘sure’, and went back to trying to fix the fridge magnet one of us  broke and I didn’t want your mum to come home and see a broken magnet, it may have been her favourite one from a destination that was sentimental to her. You were busy verbally annihilating your ex, but I know I would have gotten blamed for that. Even though I was nowhere near your laptop. To be fair, you did ask if you could put my name. That was considerate of you. I’m a moron for saying yes.

 

Take care dude, i’m sorry for my faults. For my cringe worthy lame swoony ass. For taking you up on that offer that night and you picking me up, way back when. All the nights of you walking to my house so I wouldn’t have to walk to yours alone.

 

Your definition of cool is probably chicks who are so carefree and chill and hook up and don’t think much of it. City girls. Chicks that would never be seen crying. That have their shit together. That even if they have a shitty past you wouldn’t know it because they’re mad confident and goal diggers.  Not emotional and annoying.

If that’s the case I’m happy to be ‘uncool’. I wear my heart on my sleeve, i’m damaged and it hasn’t made me a bad ass (like cool people), it’s made me fragile and i’m working on changing that. It doesn’t define me but it’s certainly affecting me even to this day.

What’s cool to me though?  People with integrity. Kind people. People who can laugh at themselves. People who do good things without seeking praise or admiration. With no need of self gratification. But just because they’re kind.  So innately kind that they don’t even realise they’re being kind.

People who don’t tread on others to get to the top. People who don’t buy into their own hype or get a gross sense of self importance or entitlement. People who are the epitome of humility.  People who are brave in unconventional ways. Everyone has a different story. Bravery has many forms.

People who don’t lead people on and have no interest of being friends. People who are real. Honest. Caring. People who are too fucking cool to play mind games.

People who don’t find hurting others funny. They wouldn’t do it in the first place because it’s not…fucking…cool!

 

People that if they did hurt others, they’d make it right. They wouldn’t be able to sleep until they’d made it right.

People who don’t just say ‘I hate myself’ but realise it’s within their reach to become someone they love. To grow and learn from mistakes. To self reflect. Gain self respect. To get help if they need to. To face their demons. Or even if they’re not ready to, at least don’t subject others to their harshness.

 

I think I loved you. Crazy heh? I’m so mentally unhinged. No man. I love most people to be honest. Just humanity in general. (do I sound like your buddy Miley again? when I said you’re stupid sat inside talking to me when you could be outside looking at the ocean. I stand by that).

My ‘lame’ ass is ok with this. I loved you as a friend. I actually gave a shit about you. I wasn’t in love with you, so don’t start picturing me boiling a bunny (I don’t even eat meat, lol) , but I would have been there for you if you needed me. Then again i’d be there for anyone, even people I can’t stand. If they were alone and in need of a hug, i’d oblige. No matter how horrible they are. Even if they pushed me away, i’d want them to know they’re not alone. Not because I’m a saint. Fuck no, because I probably care too much.

Truth be told, i’m happy for you that you never needed me. Maybe you didn’t need anyone. Or you have your friends and I didn’t meet the criteria so never made the cut.

 

It’s not a desperation to be your friend. Give me more credit than that. It’s kind of this validation thing. This respect thing. This ‘I meant more than a fling’ thing. I’m more than someone to flirt with. To be naughty with.

 

The more time I spend writing about you, the more ‘uncool’ I am in my own opinion.

So on that note, I better get back to my life.

Stace x