After last weeks man related stupidity, me & Amy started reflecting on where exactly we go wrong with men. It was discovered that we don’t actually go wrong at all, seeing as we set out to bag the worst, most inappropriate, womanising, momma horrifying little boys that we can find. I’m not looking for someone to marry (contrary to what last weeks events may have suggested) so these travesties against human nature will do for now.
We also started thinking about our past relationship fails and which of our pitiful ex-mantoys were the best and worst. So here it is, a definitive and sort of cut down list of my past boyfriends. Let it be known, some of these boys cannot be considered human, most of them cannot be considered to be previous relationships because they were mostly a fucking joke and I have left some of my more serious involvements out because, quite frankly, theres fuck all that’s funny about some of the poor excuses for males that I’ve been involved with in the past. Unless they have chlamydia now.
These are listed in order, some names have been changed because I know these pricks are the kind of morons who google themselves.
Ian Walker – my first ‘boyfriend’ when I was 14. I met him in the dark days when I spent my Friday and Saturday nights at Dundonald Ice-Bowl. We went skating every weekend, I had my own speedskates and was proper good and everything.
Why? – he was really popular and played ice-hockey and all the girls loved him and he was 16 and just a dream. He was really fit – acne, bit ginger, wore stonewashed
Best bits – being able to skate with him while holding hands during the ‘couples session’. Every week they played flying without wings by westlife and we skated round together in a big sweeping dream of love and tuna odours.
Worst bits – he alone is the reason why I don’t like crisps. One night he had eaten a bag of prawn cocktail crisps and decided to kiss me, with half the contents of said savoury snack still on his tongue. Swear down, I just wretched while thinking about it. I’ve never liked crisps since.
The break-up – he found some slag who wore belly tops and tiny skirts and decided to drop me for her. After a week with the hook-nosed hoe he wanted me back, but by then I’d realised that he was actually really vile and make me sick in my mouth a little bit every time he looked at me.
Dave Carson – he was the first boy that I seriously liked, we were together for about 6 months which I guess is long enough when youre 16.
Why? – my first example of internet grooming. He was a friend of a friend, my friend was on msn when I was at her house one night and he signed in with the screen name ‘Coby Dick’. Papa Roach were my favourite band ever at the time (no shame, first album is a banger) so I was automatically in love with him. We started talking online and eventually met eachother at a party that we were both going to. I thought he was the most attractive thing in the world and he was so cool cause he wore baggy jeans and vans. Fucking hell.
Best bits – when he came to meet me from school and all the girls were dead jealous cause he was such a fitface. When he passed his driving test and I thought I was the don when he drove me to Sainsburys in his black Ford Focus.
Worst bits – he got ‘THUG LIFE’ tattooed across his stomach, cause he loved tupac so much. He lived in a big mansion in Comber with his dad and his grandparents – one day I was pushing his nan down the street in her wheelchair when a mental dog started going apeshit and jumping all over me. I shit myself and accidentally pushed his nan out into a main road, full of moving traffic, causing a minor road traffic accident. She was old and mental and thought I was trying to kill her for the rest of time.
The break-up – he went away to uni in
Big Poppa – this is what he saved himself in my phone as, which says a lot about him. Me & big poppa have been on & off for years, when we do decide to stop fucking around and be legit, it all goes up shit creek.
Why? – it started because he was the most attractive man I knew and he bought me a pair of sunglasses. Yeah, I’m easily pleased. When I first met him, he was a vegan straight edge mommas boy. Several years on, he’s the guy who gets baked at lunchtime and has about 6 ladies at any given time. His hair is of questionable suitability for modern society and he still wears a shoelace for a belt. He texts me biggie lyrics as booty calls and calls me at 5am to tell me he loves me and ‘I’ll always be his number 1 bitch’. Clearly, hes my ideal man and I go back every time he snaps his fingers.
Best bits - when we’re good, we’re very very good. The day I met him in New Jersey and we spent the whole day trying to taste something from every Mexican joint we could find was a good one. He also had a methadone addicted dog who always provided goodtimes. The time we drank a bottle of whisky and several hundred beers, went out with our friends, argued about following eachother to the bathroom, went home and made up over a dominos, then spent the entire night throwing up pizza & liquor into my toilet while rubbing eachothers backs.
Worst bits – when we’re bad, we’re very very bad. I threw a knife at him and cut his arm once. I also chipped his front tooth by throwing a mug at his face. Let it be known, he provoked each of these events. My mum hates him because hes made me cry more than any other person, place or time in all of history.
The break-up – which one? It always ends when one of us does something stupid (we have a good habit of kissing eachothers friends to piss eachother off) or when one of us leaves the country. He moved to
Aaron – horrible boy who I may or may not have been with to piss off Big Poppa. He was fucking mental. I cant even divide this into sections, it was all just one big worst bit. Actually no, wait….
Best bits – when he told me he only had one testicle.
Worst bits – he actually only had one testicle. We broke up because he was jealous and mental. He had the outline of my ex boyfriends silhouette painted on his bedroom wall. When we broke up, he wouldn’t leave me alone, calling me non stop and showing up at my house and work. One night, about a week after we broke up, he showed up at my house and when I opened the door he was standing there with his shirt pulled up, showing his stomach. When I asked what the fuck he was doing, he replied with “LOOK AT MEEEEE! I HAVENT EATEN SINCE I LOST YOOOOU!”. He was still a tubby bitch, but I brought him in, fed him a sandwich and sent him on his merry way.
The next day, I came home from work and had some food, pottered around downstairs a for an hour or so before going to my room to get changed. When I got into my room, he was sitting on my bed. He had got a key to my house cut when we were together and had used it to let himself in and wait patiently for me on my bed. I obviously went fucking apeshit and threw him out, threatening him with a restraining order. After that he got funny, whispering hilarious threats into my ear when he saw me on nights out.
Amy saw him a couple of weeks ago and said he’s a fat mess. I have also heard some confirmed reports that he tattooed a smiley face on his own bellend. As mental as he is, he’s obviously a fucking hero.
This is getting too long and a bit too soul destroying to finish. I’ve left out all of the boys I was unfortunate enough to encounter during my time at uni. There was one who came to my house drunk out of his mind and took a shit in my bin in the corner of my bedroom. There was one who kept stealing my money to buy sandwich ingredients. Oh and there was the one I was with for almost 5 months, before he confessed that he was already in a 3 year relationship.
So when I start thinking about how maybe I should settle down and find myself a boyfriend who I can start a little love nest with and start wearing pink cashmere sweaters and get soft focus sepia portraits of us done, I just look at my dating history. If that doesn’t convince me that I’m better off hustlin men in bars for drinks and going to their houses to drink all their whisky and steal their monster munch before running back home, nothing will. Besides, if I was tied down I couldn’t pretend to be Beyonce and dance like a warrior princess when ‘Single Ladies’ comes on in tha club.