Friday, 5 June 2009


I am 30 years old. Dave is 31. We have been together for 6 years now. He is nearly 32, but has the common sense and mindset of an adolescent child. At this moment in time I think I actually hate him. Or do I? I do love him, as far as loving a boyfriend can go. I care for him. But just how many chances do you give someone who does not deserve them. Not at all. He does not know the meaning of the word respect. Or love. He is a liar. Not just little white lies. He is a compulsive liar. It is an illness that I believe he has but will not admit to. He is an ex-gambler. Although I use the term ‘ex’ very loosely. I don’t believe he has ever stopped or ever will. He says he has. I think otherwise. I know otherwise, im just too frightened to admit it to anyone else as well as myself. He is making my life a misery, a living hell, and I need to get out of it.
I am scared. I am living a lie. I am kidding myself. I am unhappy, miserable, wasting away what could be a good life, and I am just too pathetic and weak to do anything about it. In fact I don’t know what to do any more.

Don’t get me wrong, im not one of those women who gets beaten up behind closed doors then tells people she ‘ran into a door’. But I fear that it could go that way. I have started to become quite scared of him physically now. Especially after he has had a drink. He gets threatening. He slams doors and cupboards, throws things, breaks things. We argue. Constantly. And 99 times of 100 will be based on the one thing that has always been at the forefront of our relationship – money. Or lack of it.

I guess I will explain more about our relationship shortly but I am just so pissed off right now (and to be fair, slightly worried and frightened) that I feel like I just need to get things off my chest and tell the whole world how much of a pathetic, lying, cheating, thieving, conniving, sneaky 2-faced fucking prick he actually is. Welcome to my world.

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