Dick Pics

And so it happened...I was asked to blog about men sending us dick pics. Here's the first draft...

 

Hey guys, what’s up? Your penis. Right. Very funny. And original, I might add. And speaking of unoriginal matters involving Mr. Winky, I’ve got a question for you: What’s up with the dick pics?

 

Over the past couple of years as a single blogger, I’ve talked to many ladies about many dating issues. And I have learned that a sizeable number of women have at least once fallen victim to the unwelcome cock shot. It might appear in a text, an e-mail or just hanging out on an online dating site. In fact, in her hilarious memoir, Jenny Lawson reported that as an HR manager she’d catch a different employee e-mailing his junk at least once a quarter. That’s a lot of peen to screen.

 

And of course, it leaves us women asking one question:

 

WHY???

 

Is “Looking forward to meeting you” code for “Send a portrait of your Johnson”? Are you afraid I won’t recognise it in person? Are you running for Parliament?

 

Now, I’m not talking about the online exhibitionists who get their jollies exposing themselves, hoping for a shocked reaction. I’m talking about guys who are actually trying to score with us.

 

After musing on it a bit, I’ve come up with the only plausible explanation for this odd behaviour: You think it turns us on because it turns YOU on.

 

Please guys, use your brain. The other one. WOMEN ARE NOT MEN. We know you dudes would love nothing more than to receive copious photos of our beautiful lady junk. You like porn. We get it.

 

But let me make one thing clear: seeing a digitised image of your dork does about as much for me sexually as watching my neighbour's cat vomit and then eat it.

 

There is no circumstance in which I need to see a photograph of your wang. Not even if we’re just fuck buddies. Not even if it has won some sort of penis pageant. Not even if it bears an uncanny resemblance to Meryl Streep. I don’t need to see if it’s big enough or pretty enough or circumcised enough – I’d honestly rather wait for the unveiling in person. In fact, I kind of like the suspense.

 

Let’s say I meet a guy on Tinder and he texts me a visage of his one-eyed wonder worm. Here’s what will happen: First, I exclaim, “Ew.” Second, I consult my friends immediately and we analyse the shit out of it. This is what our conversation might sound like:

 

Me: Sweet Jesus. This guy just sent me a picture of his dong. Look!

 

Girlfriend: Whoa. What a weirdo. Why would he do that?

 

Me: Shit if I know.

 

Girlfriend: Did you send a boob pic? Did you ASK for it?

 

Me: No and HELL, no.

 

Girlfriend: Ewww, look at it, it’s all veiny. And the head is, like, freakishly bigger than the shaft.

 

Me: Ha! That’s so bizarre! And he didn’t even bother to manscape. It’s like his weiner has an afro.

 

Girlfriend: And check out the shag carpet in his bedroom. That’s just bad taste. Wait a second, what is THAT?

 

Me: What is what?

 

Girlfriend: That little dot right there.

 

Me: Oh, yeah… Maybe it’s something on my screen. [Wipes screen.] Nope, still there. Perhaps a freckle?

 

Girlfriend: Perhaps a genital wart?

 

Me: Omigod. You think?

 

Girlfriend: You never know. I saw some wart pics online that looked like cauliflower. Do you want cauliflower growing out of your junk? Girl, you need to lose this dude. He’s obviously a major perv who may or may not have genital warts.

 

Me: Agree. Delete. Wait… let’s show Sharon and Heather and Jamie first.

Incidentally, a conversation with my gay bf would go something like this:

 

Me: Sweet Jesus. This guy just sent me a picture of his dong. Look!

 

Gay bf: Seriously? Could you forward it to me?

 

Is this what you want, fellas? To be the subject of ridicule amongst our girlfriends or the subject of masturbation amongst our gay bfs? I thought not.

 

Trust me, we’re not nearly as obsessed with your manhood as you are. I mean, sure, we love it when we’re in the throes of passion and think of it fondly if it’s given us pleasure in the past. But I don’t need a picture of it. Ever. And if the two of us have not yet met or are just beginning to date, an Instagrammed version of it will not make me want to instantly bang your brains out. This I promise.

 

So for the love of God, put your camera down and your penis away. And please, tell your friends. Make this go viral. Spread the word, my darlings, spread it like genital warts.

 

Love,

Women

Should you be friends with your ex?

Unfortunately, our exes don’t disappear from the earth after a breakup. They keep existing, seemingly for the sole purpose of appearing when you’re horribly hungover, buying Advil and coconut water in your sweatpants, and then—boom,there they are, still alive. I’ve never understood those couples who stay friends after a breakup. It just seems impossible to form something truly platonic with a person who I’ve had feelings for, who knows exactly how to make me cum, and who’s seen me smell my underwear to check if they’re clean. They know some vulnerable parts of my personality. Those aren't things that friends should know or want to know - it doesn't work that way. There's a big difference between trading juicy secrets and actually doing them. 

Many claim that being friends with your ex is the “mature” thing to do, but I always feel like those people are confusing maturity with masochism. But if you do choose to keep your ex in your life, it’s important that the friendship is genuine, without ulterior motives.

Now, there’s a difference between being friends and being friendly. Friends means we watch Netflix at your apartment and I complain to you about my new relationship. Friendly means that if we pass on the street, I’ll smile and say hi, rather than try to fashion a weapon out of the objects in my handbag. Generally speaking, friendly is a good option, for the sake of social harmony. You don’t want to be one of those people who can’t be in the same room as your ex, and causes a major scene if ever it happens. That’s annoying for your friends, and makes you look like an adultbaby. (Hence where that whole “maturity” thing comes into play.) And even though it would be convenient if we could ask our friends to “choose sides,” that’s unfortunately not really acceptable after the age of 21.

I am not an exemplary case, in that I’m not on speaking terms with any of my serious, long-term exes. Cheating and jealousy spoiled my first relationship, and the ex after that resents me (I might have blogged about the problems in our sex life without his permission one too many times). With my most recent long-term relationship, our breakup involved so many nasty fights that it would be ridiculous to try to rebuild after all the horrible things we said to one another. Despite this, we stupidly made a brief attempt at friendship. Not surprisingly, literally every hangout resulted in a fight, me crying, or us having sex. Old habits are hard to break.

Tellingly, how a relationship ends has an effect on what happens afterward. If it ended badly—cheating, disrespect, trauma, etcetera—then attempting to form a subsequent friendship can be difficult, or worse, unhealthy. However, if your relationship just naturally runs its course and then ends mutually (which, let’s be honest, is not the way most relationships end), then a post-breakup friendship seems more feasible. Personally, I believe the only way to truly be friends with a serious ex is if you had already entered the friendzone before the breakup. Because when you end a relationship that’s still sexually charged, or that one person isn’t ready to give up, it’s impossible to hang out afterward without wanting to fuck, marry, or kill each other. But it’s not just about the sex. Being in a relationship is about so many other things—it’s about family, support, codependency, and being intimate in a way that transcends the sexual—and that’s what makes it hard to transition into friendship.

For a lot of people, breakups are about winning. That’s not necessarily a bad thing—some healthy competition with your exes is natural, right? I’m not saying I want my exes to suffer a major tragedy, but I definitely want them to be far less happy and successful than I am. Duh. But you have to keep it classy. Clearly, it’s always good news when your ex gets fat, but enjoy this hardship privately, with a celebratory glass of wine in the bath, rather than making a big deal about it in front of your mutual friends. Constantly talking about how your ex’s new girlfriend is a budget version of you just makes you seem like you’re still emotionally invested in his life, when really you should be too over it to know or care who he’s dating.

In my experience, when exes stay friends, there’s usually another dynamic at play. For example, one partner secretly hopes to get back together, or is feigning closeness to keep dibs on the other. Or you agree to spend time with your ex out of pity, because they still like you, and the attention feels good. Or, you could be using the facade of friendship simply to hurt the other person—e.g. making them jealous by rubbing new romances in their face. (We’ve all been to that awkward holiday party with an ex-couple—“Isn’t it great we’ve stayed friends!”—where one ex is so obviously enjoying parading around their new partner while the other silently dies inside by the hors d’oeuvres.) And lastly, a classic case, is the type who keep their exes around as a backup plan, in case no one better comes along. Not only is this unfair to your ex, but this dynamic is probably holding you back as well.

You might not realise it, but keeping your ex around “as a friend” after a breakup can keep you from moving on. You think you’re being morally superior, when actually your ex is sucking up so much of your emotional bandwidth that you have zero energy left for Tinder.

Moving on is hard, and the impulse to keep your ex in your life can be really strong—we all get it. And yeah, maybe you can have your ex back in your life in some capacity down the line, but you first need to give yourself a window to move on physically and emotionally. It’s not weak or dramatic to stop following your ex on social media—it’s strategic. If you don’t, you’ll just end up staring at your phone all day, waiting to find clues in each new Instagram they post. You might have to sacrifice some parties, restaurants, movie theatres, and even countries to avoid running into them for a while. But if you do end up in a place where you might run into your ex, be sure to look casually fabulous.

The Trouble With Hookup Culture

When I tell people that I’m doing the whole casual hookup thing, I’m always met with a blend of shock and awe. They tell me how modern I am, how great it is that I’m so comfortable with myself that I don’t need a commitment, and that I’m brave for not being afraid of such a harshly judged lifestyle.

To some extent, they’re right. I am focusing on myself. I am pursuing my sexuality unabashedly. And I’m not afraid of what people may say. But what they don’t realise is that I’m exhausted and it took me a long time to learn to be this way and sometimes I wonder if I haven’t permanently ruined myself. I’ve learned more about men and human connection in these past two years of hooking up than I learned from any long term relationship prior, and I don’t like what I’m learning.

It’s great to do things for yourself; to pursue the things that you want for you and you alone without having to compromise with someone else. It’s good to have a healthy approach to sex. What’s not good is the realisation that you live behind a shell labeled “hardass” because that’s the only way you can survive.

The first time I had a one-night stand, it felt so strange. I wanted more, I felt like I was entitled to a connection, even though I knew I wasn’t. I was hurt that the man in question didn’t call me and ask for some commitment, even though I knew that I didn’t want a boyfriend. I was asking for someone to care about me, even when I didn’t care about them and knew I had no right to ask that of them.

You learn to harden yourself against expectations because happiness is reality minus expectations. You learn how to be both brutally honest and carefully guarded. I say things to my hookups that I would never say to anyone else, precisely because we have a limited window of togetherness and I have a small amount of time to establish myself as strong and independent. But I never care too much or ask too many questions or let them know how content I really am, because that makes me clingy and crazy.

You learn early on how to tell when someone doesn’t give a shit about you and, nine times out of ten, a hookup doesn’t give a shit about you. Even when he spends his weekends in your bed and kisses your forehead and laughs with you as you talk in the darkness, he doesn’t really care. What you mean to each other only goes as far as the door to your apartment. The trouble with hookup culture is that it is, at the same time, empowering and crippling. The very same moments that make you feel strong and content are the ones that leave you hollow and haunted.

And I’m so tired.

I’m tired of giving to someone who is only going to disappear and I’m tired of taking from someone while being fully aware that they are replaceable. No one thinks they are replaceable. I’m tired of being more armour and hard logic and cynicism than I am heart. I’m tired of my friends telling me that I love like a man when I am at my very core all woman. I’m tired of doubting whether or not I’ll ever be able to love again.

35 Things I Learned This Year

1. You never have to settle. Not in a relationship, not in a job, not ever.
2. Love your haters. They just want food, cuddles, attention and exercise. They're basically a puppy. 
3. Some people are kept in your phone just so you know not to answer when they call.
4. Never eat a party brownie ever again. 
5. Bad decisions make good stories.
6. When you get harassed and bullied by TSA officers in LA, remember two words: AUSTRALIAN EMBASSY. 
7. Don't sit too much. It kills you. Move, dance, run, play. 
8. The things that you hate about your body are oftentimes what other people find attractive. Embrace your flaws. 
9. If you think something is cute, fucking wear it. Don’t worry about what everyone else thinks. You’ll look great, I promise. 
10. Sex stores are fun, even if you just want a good laugh.
11. Some days are better than others. 
12. Forgive. No one wants to be bitter. It's bad for your soul. And it's bad for your sexy.
13. Know when to walk away. Holding on will only cause you more pain. Don’t exhaust yourself when there are people out there who would readily appreciate and love you—every part of you.
14. If you have to, make the first move. It’s scary, but someone has to do it. 
15. Men come and go. But your friends will always be there. Never ditch them for any guy unless of course he’s Channing Tatum or Trey Songz. They would be very bad friends if they didn’t understand. 
16. Nobody cares about you as much as they care about themselves.
17. People who feel the need to tell you that they have an excellent sense of humour are telling you that they have no sense of humour. 
18. No matter what happens, somebody will find a way to take it seriously. 
19. You will never find anybody who can give you a clear and compelling reason why we observe Daylight Saving Time. 
20. Arguments are pointless. You can’t change anyone so don’t try. 
21. You will make mistakes. So what?
22. It’s okay to be sad. But try not to forget about what makes you happy.
23. There is nothing wrong with you. 
24. Memories are priceless. Take plenty of pictures and videos of everything. That way, when you scroll through your camera roll, you’ll remember everything about that day -good or bad. 
25. Do what you love. Even if you don't get paid for it. 
26. Telling someone they’re wrong never leads to anything positive. Even if they’re wrong. 
27. A great massage, a great glass of wine, a great workout and great sex are a few of life's greatest treats. 
28. It’s OK if you don’t like something. Just don’t pretend that you do.
29. You should play on a swing set at least once every year. It is guaranteed to bring a smile to your face.
30. If you can’t sing, sing anyway. Especially at karaoke. 
31. If you think something is a bad idea, it might mean you should do it. Or it might mean it’s actually a bad idea.
32. Do activities by yourself. Solo Social Activities (movies, dinner, concerts, travel) can be a lot of fun.
33. Low calorie does not mean healthy. Stop fooling yourself.
34. Stop texting or checking your phone when you’re with other people. It’s rude and it’s sad.
35. Everybody lies. Trust people anyway.

Is Being A Hopeless Romantic In A Hookup Culture A Special Kind of Hell?

“I want all of you, forever, everyday. You and me … everyday,” is what Ryan Gosling’s character, Noah, said to Allie (Rachael McAdams) as he begged her to choose him instead of her fiancé in a pivotal scene in the riveting emotional fluffer, The Notebook.

Back in the good-ol’-days of drive-in movie dates, chocolate-covered strawberries with flowers and corny Hallmark cards that generically express the feelings of the emotionally stunted, this type of sappy profession of one’s inner soul was once an admirable quality of a potential lover.

Nowadays, these types of lines are as likely to win over a woman’s heart and panties as restraining orders are likely to gain friends.

Technological advancements, such as the automobile and movie theaters, brought young couples out of their parents’ homes and constant supervision, giving them more freedom and opportunity for sexy time. Never has seeing a woman’s elbows and ankles been so readily available.

With the loosening sexual morals and the advancement of feminism and birth control that accompanied the sexual revolution in the 1960s, sex became unhinged from nuptials and non-marital sex became more socially accepted.

Fast-paced modern society, combined with mobile technology and social media, has bourgeoned hookup culture and courtship has evolved from developing instant intimacy to an endless barrage of dick pics, creepy pickup lines and mind games.

However, this isn’t all bad, as the hookup culture has marked the beginning of a demise of outdated, religious, misogynistic sexual double standards, as women are more free to explore their sexuality with less judgment from sexually frustrated moral purists and creepy old priests who choose to share the love of Jesus with their subservient altar boys.

But is our collective Attention Deficit Disorder turning into Affection Deficit Disorder?

A recent survey states that both men and women are deeply unhappy with hookup culture. Meaningless intercourse apparently led them to associate sexuality with “ambivalence, boredom, isolation and loneliness,” yet they reluctantly accept hooking up as an obligatory prerequisite of young adulthood.

Nevertheless, this blatantly jaded view presupposes young men and women are completely devoid of the ability to cultivate a relationship that grows from casual sex and that “traditional” courtship of admitting one’s desire during the heated passion of encountering love at first sight is actually attractive.

Essentially, texting and casual dialogue has transformed courting into a mental chess match, where every message, smooth line, date and reaction is strategically planned to elicit a certain kind of emotion in order to play mind games that stimulate subconscious arousal rather than express genuine emotions.

Next time you think about answering a text from that potential someone or want to plan a date with them; wait an hour, or a day, or a week, or a year, or even a decade to respond, so neediness isn’t displayed. Psychology shows that being random, spontaneous and opaque is the key to attraction.

The only way to show interest is through disinterest, so the other person’s disinterest turns into interest while your disinterest hides your interest and over time, hopefully, the initial interest doesn’t gradually fade into disinterest because showing interest creates disinterest. It makes sense because the only way to properly pursue someone is to manipulate their emotions.

We now live in a world that disregards cheesy romance lines and proliferates magical dating apps, like Tinder, which connect just as many private parts as hearts. Men and women continue to cycle through each other like a lifestyle hipster snob cycles through curated homeless person ensembles at Urban Outfitters every three months to seem trendy.

But is the hookup culture the scourge of the millennial generation or a natural progression of human intimacy?

As men and women drift through partners after countless 30-second jackhammer doggystyle sessions, there’s an opportunity to find that significant other as people are constantly being connected through technology and social events without the need for an idealized Hollywood portrayal of romance.

Lifestyles are constantly being challenged and diversified in the western civilisation. Traditional nuclear families have now expanded to cohabitation, gay and lesbian couples and single parents. There’s no reason that random, sloppy coitus can’t coexist with dating.

People look for different kinds of relationships at different points in their lives, so there’s really no right or wrong way to conduct one’s personal life.

In the midst of all this casual sex and questioning of traditional dating values, the main takeaways from the emerging hookup culture are the cliché expressions, “do what makes you happy” and “be yourself and people will love you for who you are.”

Men shouldn’t let the number of sexual conquests dictate their self-worth, while women shouldn’t allow sex to devalue them. As long as people know what they’re looking for in life and refuse to allow other people’s perceptions of them to influence their self-esteem, then maybe hookup horndogs and hopeless romantics can pursue their affectionate ambitions together in the modern dating world.

Life is simply a series of random events, and the universe will inevitably unfold as it was meant to.

Everyone will eventually find that special someone, whether it’s in the bed sheets or their beating hearts.

Or maybe you’ll just die cold, bitter and alone. I don’t know, I’m not Cupid

The Real Problem Between Sex, Love, And The ‘Almost’ Relationship

I both love and hate so many aspects that are such a huge part of this generation. For example, I love that technology makes it easier than ever for us to connect, but it also makes it harder than ever to make meaningful connections, particularly face to face. One gripe I have that seems to be such an integrated part of this generation is the problem of the “Almost Relationship.” Let me explain what I mean by this.

I’ve known some beautiful, intelligent, amazing women in my life, and many of them have been faced with this issue. Let’s see if this applies to you. You meet a guy, you’re intrigued by him. You like him a lot. He isn’t easy to deal with, but it seems worth it to you. Perhaps you have baggage or issues of your own that you’re wanting to work through while you’re with him, you helping him with his issues and vice versa. You spend a lot of time together, maybe he even introduces you to his friends, which you take to be a great sign. You text back and forth all the time, and he is affectionate with you, calling you endearing names. You get to the stage where you want to ask what this is, what you’re both doing with each other.

Is it a relationship? You don’t quite know the answer. You’ve had sex, been intimate, shared meals. Maybe you bring up the question to him, or maybe he brings it up himself. Either way, what he tells you is that he doesn’t want a relationship. This confuses you. Maybe you think, “But it was going so well!” and you wonder how he could come to this conclusion after all the time you’ve spent together. You also feel like you’re getting mixed signals. After all, if going out on dates, taking care of each other and having sex isn’t a relationship, then what is?

Maybe you’ll ask him at this point what he does want, and why he doesn’t want a relationship. Maybe he gives you answers, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe you fight, you have misunderstandings. Maybe he tells you that you’re just friends, or friends with benefits, or that he’s so messed up that he couldn’t possibly have anything to offer anyone. You go through stages of being angry, then forgiving him. Then soothing him. Then trying to help him with his anxiety or his panic attacks, or his disconnect from his emotions, or help him get over his ex. You wonder to yourself, “If he doesn’t seem to be after other girls, why doesn’t he just admit he wants to be with me, or that we’re together?”

Because in his mind, you’re not. Because in his mind, he has all the power. Because in his mind, he’s getting something he wants, and he’s giving you something you want, even if you’re left unfulfilled. Because in his mind, what you are both doing with each other is “good enough” for now, particularly until he finds something else. Maybe his voice is sexy and drives you crazy when he leaves you voice mails at midnight, asking you to come over. Maybe he makes you laugh. There could be a thousand reasons why you continue to devote so much time to him, even though he says he doesn’t want a relationship, or tells you directly that he doesn’t want to be with you. Maybe you think you can change him, or change his mind.

I love that in this day and age women can be more free with their bodies sexually, admitting that they need a physical connection with someone, that they enjoy that type of intimacy. Unfortunately, I think this still leaves most women so much more vulnerable than men in this scenario and more likely to get attached after being intimate. We want to think sometimes that we can keep it casual, but how many times have you found yourself at an impasse trying to separate sex from love?

This is a huge downfall of the modern era. Women should be able to be as free as they like with their bodies, as long as they understand that sometimes they will grow attached, and have to be prepared for the possibility that the men they want to be with won’t want to be with them. If you are one of these women, just know that not everything is meant to work out or line up. Fall for the person who says, “Yes. I want you. I want to be with you” and is willing to prove it.

Getting Dumped Was The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me....

"When you deal with the heartbreak of an unwanted breakup, you need to look very carefully at the person who broke up with you and look very carefully at yourself. If you are radically honest, you will see a myriad of ways that you asked for the breakup to happen as well as the ways that you deserve something better in relation to another" – ­ MUM-

My mum’s advice resonated with me because it is true. A couple of years ago, I was the epitome of a woman scorned. I spent years with a man who not only broke my heart, but also broke my essence. It amazed me that I entered the relationship thinking I was complete, yet once I left, I saw myself half-finished. For quite some time, I allowed this to make me disillusioned, but now I see it as a valuable life lesson. Being dumped was the best thing that ever happened to me. It made me realize that once you enter a relationship with your eyes closed, you leave it with your eyes wide open. 

Like all of my previous relationships, I met my ex-boyfriend when I was fresh out of a breakup. There were no sparks when I first locked eyes with him. No butterflies. No trumpets to herald his coming into my life. He wasn’t different from every other guy. Nevertheless, I spoke to him and inadvertently gave him my number.

Remarkably, the months that followed our epiphanic meeting were nothing short of amazing. Unlike the previous guy who would relentlessly criticise me for my physical flaws, DB made me feel like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.  And for the first time in my whole adult life, I felt alive. It wasn’t long before we fell inevitably and irrevocably in love with each other.

However, we rushed the relationship immensely. We were virtually inseparable. We would talk innocently about our future. We made plans about getting married years down the line. He even gave me a promise ring and would oftentimes introduce me to everyone as his fiancé. At that point of my life, though, I had a lot of sorting out to do. I was mourning the loss of a loved one. But instead of properly going through the entire grieving process, I used him as replenishment for my loss. He became my crutch and my only source of emotional support.  Needless to say, it eventually became apparent that we move in together. And so I ignored everything logical that my brain was spouting out at me and hastily moved into his place.

The first year of living together was wonderful because we were candidly playing cubby house. He was the best part of my day and the hours that we spent away from each other felt like light years. He would take me to his gigs because he wanted me beside him while he’s working behind the decks as a DJ.  I stopped seeing my friends and doing things that I usually love to do because all I wanted was to be with him. He became the focal point of my existence.

Yet, after a year of bliss, the relationship began to sour. We’d argue about anything and everything.  And as we both started to see characteristics of each other that we would otherwise deem as red flags had it not for the circumstances that we got ourselves into, the arguments became frequent and more intense. As months passed, I saw myself changing. I was no longer the carefree girl that had a healthy social life. Instead of figuring out what I wanted in life, I was trying to figure out how to keep a man. I was dependent on someone’s love. And, as is the way with gravity, the fireworks between us ran their course and eventually came crashing down, leaving me dazed and heartbroken with a thousand questions left unanswered. 

DB was not only controlling. He was also very manipulative and demanding. I saw myself walking on eggshells and bending over backwards to make things work.  And without realising it, my life became all about him. I took up culinary lessons because he didn’t like my cooking. I would wake up 20 minutes earlier every single morning before I go to work while he sleeps in (DJ hours, remember?) to make him breakfast.  I would feel extremely guilty if I hadn’t done the laundry in a week and he ran out of clean underwear to wear.  I would literally drop everything every time he’d need my help like drive to town in the middle of the night because he forgot something from home (even on those nights when I badly need to rest or when I’m sick). I would oftentimes restrain myself from speaking my mind because I was perpetually trying to avoid potential arguments with him. On top of that, he would throw my clothes out the balcony and threaten to kick me out of his apartment every time we fight. 

Ultimately, the relationship became emotionally and psychologically abusive. His demands became more unreasonable and I found myself in perennial struggle to make him happy. It almost felt like I was being performance managed but no matter how much I tried to reach my KPI, my efforts were just not good enough. Not only were his standards impossible to live up to, they were extremely obstructive and perverse as well. I remember contemplating on flirting with other girls when I go out so I could take them home and have a threesome because that was his biggest fantasy.  Our date nights were unwittingly reduced to going to swingers' parties. And although we would not have sexual intercourse with other couples, I would unscrupulously allow him to make out and fondle other women because I knew it made him happy. The whole relationship was so toxic that it came to a point where I became very emotionally unstable and volatile. I would oftentimes try to get a glimpse of the man that I fell in love with by ostentatiously attempting to harm myself in front of him hoping that he’d hug me and become that loving person that stole my heart a year ago. Instead, he had me committed in a mental ward. At this point, I was so far gone that not only did I apologise to him for my ‘misdemeanour’ but I also tried to dispute the treating psychiatrist’s conclusion that I have a sound mind. When I was advised to walk away from the relationship, I broke down and stubbornly insisted that everything was my fault and that I was crazy hence, they should think about reassessing my mental health. 

Consequently, our malignant relationship finally came to an end in February 2014. I still remember his icy cold stare and his thunderous voice stinging me. I left his place trembling with fear, thinking that I messed things up for good. I was supposed to be heading for work that day but instead, I made a detour to the library and cried for what seemed like an eternity. I kept asking myself why I couldn’t make him happy. I couldn’t figure out what went wrong and ultimately, I blamed myself for the demise of our relationship. I thought I was a terrible girlfriend despite knowing that I loved him with every molecule of my being. And for the first time in my life, I felt like a failure. Naturally, I spent the following weeks crying and begging him to take me back. I hung onto the false hope that we could fix things and that he would eventually come into his senses and take me back into his arms again. To this day, I'm still not certain whether I was holding on to the image of the man that I fell in love with and I was too stubborn to accept the person that he has become or if I was too naive to recognise the red flags at the start of the relationship and I failed to see him for the person that he truly was.  

In the months that followed, my heart felt like it lived directly under the thinnest layer of skin, overly sensitive to every thought, loud sound or even touch. Some days I'd go to bed feeling like I have a defaulted cardiac arrest, and I’d wake up feeling the same way only to repeat the cycle again. I spent everyday sobbing and vomiting, haunting my friend’s spare bedroom like a ghost. Apparently, that's what you do when you are 26 and have just been summarily dismissed from your long-term live-in relationship. You cry and snivel and you plead with a God you don’t quite believe in to make it all a bad dream. You sleep fitfully on a blow-up mattress in a room that is not yours and every time you wake up, you have to quell the panic of not knowing where you are by reminding yourself silently, resolutely that this will pass. 

Fortunately, I eventually moved out of the vomiting/hysterical weeping stage and into the kindling stage. In fact, if you would have told me then, “You will someday be grateful for your broken heart,” I would have laughed (or more likely cried) in your face. But I say this now: Thank you, dear heart, for being strong enough to fall apart. Thank you, heart, for the precious gift of your breaking.  After that devastating blow, something inside of me snapped. I looked at the mirror and I saw this feeble girl staring back at me. How can I love someone if I’ve forgotten how to take care of me? I felt a switch and all of a sudden I was faced with the choice to be pathetic forever or to conquer my sorrow. I decided to conquer. I reclaimed myself. I reconnected with old friends. I went on a spiritual workshop up the coast. I did things for myself and explored new hobbies. I opened myself up to male attention and threw myself back into the dating pool. I focused on rediscovering myself.  I regained my self-respect and before I knew it, I was alive again.  

It didn’t take long before vivid memories of my failed relationship turn into blurry renditions. And my resentment towards him was replaced with gratitude. After all, he opened my eyes to something greater in life. He taught me that love doesn't mean leaning and company doesn't mean security. He showed me that LOVE is what’s left over after the passion ebbed and that kisses aren't contracts. The experience taught me to think more rationally when it comes to matters of the heart - not to rely on the idea that happily ever after necessarily exists. And it’s unclear whether there’s someone out there for everyone. I don’t want to be cynical about love, but I don’t want to be naive either. 

In addition to that, I still had so many things in my life that I need to straighten out.  For so long, I’ve been coasting by blaming other people for my despondent life, yet I forgot I was talking about MY LIFE.   I’m the master of my own destiny.  I wasted so much time worrying about another person’s happiness that I have completely forgotten how to actually be happy.  And so I decided to plant my own garden and decorate my own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring me flowers. 

And as I went through this process, I came to terms with why things ended up the way they did. I listened to my truth even when it’s “ugly” and I forgave myself for not being perfect.  I see now with clarity that our relationship was toxic. We were not right for each other and I should have walked away a lot sooner, instead of trying to fix something that was destined to be broken.  Now, as I begin to see why and how things started to unravel and how I ended up a total mess, I am finally able to grow. In the grand scheme of things, the moment I finally put as much effort into the relationship that I have with myself as I did with other people is the moment that I am able to stop searching for something outside of myself.  I am able to find peace -the kind of peace that doesn’t change with the wind. I feel vulnerable and strong at the time because I know that what I have gone through serves a greater purpose.  The next time I find love, I will understand my needs and wants better. And I will know myself enough to give myself what I want and avoid falling into the same patterns I was in before this relationship.

Yes. Getting dumped hurt like hell but it was in hindsight, the best thing that has ever happened to me.  Amazing things are manifested when we face our demons in new and creative ways, and that is true no matter who we are.  I decided to build my roads for today because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans. And the future has a way of  falling mid-flight. But even though the future sometimes frightens me, I look back in the past, and the past before that, and I see that whatever happens, I will always be much better off in the future that I'm scared of than in the past that I left behind. 

My story is no different from everyone else's.  I've loved and I've lost. But needless to say, I have gained the one thing that matters the most - ME.