Most of my ex’s are scrotes -an affectionate name for a low value man. Take my ex fiancé for example. He was not hot, unless you like that whole I stick needles in my toes, gamble all your money and make you out to be the crazy one Johnny Depp look. Tattoos, smoking, drinking JD from the bottle cliché I have daddy issues kinda ex.
I said yes to that greasy haired looser on top of a mountain in New Zealand, sweating my fucking ass off. And In the most unromantic way possible might I add. He was waiting for me, as he had scampered off before me. Which is really unfair, he smoked a pack a day at least and there I was going to Pilates and step class listening to Ronda yell at me to ‘move it, lift those knees ladies’, yet did that prepare me to climb a mountain? No, no it didn’t Ronda so why the hell did I spend all that money? Whereas my cancerous boyfriend, who never ran for sport a day in his life, scurried up the mountain ahead of me. I was angry at the world for that little piece of shit move and so when I huffed and puffed my way up to the peak and he was there, with a box, on one knee.
I did not feel joy! You know why? I mean if I was honest with myself at the time I should have seen the army of red flags and said no, but the reason why I wasn’t full of joy is because I had seen the box in his luggage on day two of our 14 day trip, which I fully organized mind you. My problem was, we had gone to Hobbit town and he hadn’t done it there. Hobbit town is a beautiful little magical set built for Lord of the Rings with the cutest little magical doors, green rolling hillsides and the most romantic wood carved quaint, brew their own beer pub. Like who doesn’t want to be proposed to in HOBBIT TOWN. But no. My answer was yes.
I don’t know why I said yes. Maybe it was the fact that he was on his knees, and we still had another week of our trip and I didn’t want to spend the rest of the trip in awkward silence. So instead of dealing with one week of being uncomfortable I said yes to a lifetime of unhappiness. I was in a really great place. Also, the ring was H.O.R.I.B.L.E. Guys don’t buy an engagement ring. Get a cute funny little plastic ring and take her shopping to buy her, her dream ring. Because in her mind she has already picked it out, has pictures saved on her insta, had planned the manicure she’ll get when she takes photos to announce the engagement.
Anyways I finally dumped him because surprise, gambling addict check, Alcoholic check, drug addict check, narcissist check, fucking prostitutes, probably who knows, kissed a girl in our loungeroom while I cooked them both dinner in the other room- fucking CHECK. I got trust issues galore from that tasty little treat, I mean I had already been cheated on before in my previous relationships so there were some issues starting to brew but he really did a number on me. ‘Omg Rach I’m so glad you didn’t marry him, imagine what your life would be like’ the same probably but I’d have to check the box divorced instead of single on my Centerlink forms. God, they want to know all your business don’t they, I’m surprised they don’t ask how many sexual partners you’ve had. I don’t know John I don’t keep count.
Needless to say he is now married to some unsuspecting woman who I hope finds her backbone like I did and leave that sorry Jonny Depp try hard.