Crash and burn

So, last Tuesday, the delightful MW had returned into my life (at my instigation), and we had arranged to meet the Thursday now coming up. We spent the whole week texting and msning, I sent him some new pics of me, and I spoke to him on the phone Thursday morning for an hour and all was good. He came over Friday evening for a cuppa, and we spent a couple of hours chatting and everything seemed fine, with him leaving and Thursday nights date confirmed.

I went out with the girls last night, and he texted a few times throughout the evening, before finally texting at around 11.30pm to say he was heading over to my hometown to the crap local night club here. A mad panic ensued, as I'd had one of those can't be bothered nights were I hadn't bothered dressing up, my hair was shit, I'd been dancing for 2 hours and was all hot and sweaty, and I was wearing the same clothes I'd bunged on to see him the night before!!!!

My initial response was "shit, you can't come and find me because I look like crap!", and I was seriously seriously stressed!! (Did I mention I really really like this guy??! He is by far, one of the truly fittest and sexiest men I have ever met). Anyway, to cut a long story short he went to the club and then came up and met me about 2am when I left the pub.

We came home and played name that tune while watching vh1 until about 5am, (which I was fucking shit at, and he was fucking great at!!), and then had the discussion about sleeping arrangements. Now, I really wasnt planning on sleeping with him, not least because I hadnt shaved my legs or my bikini line, and generally looked like crap by 5 in the morning! But he wouldnt let me sleep on the sofa and rah de rah de rah, we both agree to sleep upstairs.

Now for a boy who had professed to be shy all week, once we were in bed it took about 10 secs for us to be snogging, and a further 2 minutes for me to be whipping my clothes off, sucking his cock and then straddling him. The sex was hard and fast and just fucking great, seriously fucking great, and I went to sleep (about 6am!!), tired, cuddled up to him and happy. Morning came, and I awoke to the feel of him spooning me from behind, with a hard on pressed into my buttocks, and more shagging commenced. All good.

Due to the clocks changing last night, and my bedside alarm being out before the change, our addled brains couldn't cope with the time change and we left to take him back to his hometown about 10.30am (we thought) as he had to take his boy to football practice. Half way there, we realise its actually only 9am, goddamn!! So, I dropped him off at the shop to get a paper, we kissed, and we both agreed to meet Thursday, as originally planned. He was like I'll definitely see you Thursday.

At 10.10am I get a text...
MW - OG, thinking about last night, and it shouldn't have happened. I should have stayed with my mates. I don't want to give you false hope. I feel really bad.

What the fuck!!!!! I tell you, fucking knobhead!!! That was my initial reaction. Why the fuck do men do that? Bring the fucker on and on bigtime and then change their fucking minds!!! It pisses me off, seriously seriously pisses me off, and is the one thing I never never do. I never promise myself lightly, I never lead people to believe I want one thing when actually I'm not sure. And it really really hacks me off that I increasingly seem to hear of more and more men that do this. Fuckers, fuckers, fuckers!

Me - What's that all about MW? Take it you're not interested in seeing me again then?

No response.

Me - Disappointed in you MW. Thought we were both grown ups! Last night didn't give me false hope, it was the bringing it on bigtime the whole week before . No need for that! Your loss though mate

And despite the bravery of my last comment, not only am I pissed off, but now I'm fucking gutted, because I really like him. He's fit, he's funny, he's generally an all round honey. And now I feel like some pathetic, ugly, fat, crap fuck, and I'm fucking tired of playing this stupid fucking "love" game. It's too fucking hard!

At 12.07pm he texts...

MW - I'm an alcoholic. You don't need that in your life. I'm still drinking now. I'm sorry.

You're fucking sorry??!!!!! You make a decision about what I need in my life with no input from me (another fucking DM), and thats it?? I'm meant to just accept your fucking decision??!! Fuck you with your sorry! So, needless to say, over the next few hours, the following sorry arsed texts were sent by me...

Me - You have no idea what I need in my life! I guess I should have expected to not be important enough for you to bother even trying to find out.

Me - You know, I was there for you a long time ago. You didn't want me then. I'm still here for you now but you still don't want me. So why did you let me think you did?

Because he fucking did!!! Gave it the big one about how much he wanted to be with someone, and how he wanted to do all the stuff he does with his mates with a girlfriend, etc etc. And you don't say shit like that to people unless you're thinking maybe they could be that person!!!

Me - I really, really fucking liked you! Good stuff, bad stuff, baggage and all. And if you want to dwell on how shit your life is then fucking go right ahead. If you want better instead, which means taking risks and making changes, then let me know. If not then I won't bother you again x

Me - PS. If you'd bothered to ask you'd know I went out with an alcoholic for two years. It was him not wanting to fuck that finished us, not his drinking

No reply to any of them. No fucking sense to any of it.

I feel shit. And I'm tired of this. Tired of opening myself up to all of this hurt.