Well ladies and gentlemen, I am endlessly sorry if you find yourselves, however remotely, involved in this sordid affair, but recently an ex of mine with whom I have had no contact for over two years, decided he would share his tale with many of you for some un-fucking-known reason. As if anyone cared. However, since it has happened, I am forced to set things straight. My reputation must be restored, and he must be told the actual truth. For this I am very sorry. For the record, much of his almighty rant was erroneous and twisted, mainly because he who wrote it was both unaware of the actual truth, and likes to make himself look hard done by.
I begin to wonder what sort of person does such a thing, to feel so insecure as to need to have his side of a story that no one even knew about or even cared about known to the world. He has made me look bad, and made himself look like a victim of my cruel negligence. The things he said made me physically sick to my stomach. It is thoroughly embarrassing and I would hate to think that the people I care about would believe such things about me. No one needs to know my personal life, these things should be kept well, personal. But now they have been laid bare and, in several cases, distorted horribly and assumptions elaborated on.
In most situations I would rise above it and do nothing, not sink to the level of the one who has insulted me. This time however, it has to be different. This has severely crossed a line. I will not have lies and slander about me spread around at random, defaming me and spoiling my reputation. Anyone who knows me well will know that I am not the cold-hearted she-devil that I am made out to be in his verbose narrative.
It really is a sickening and sordid affair and I utterly regret that anyone apart from myself, himself, and my mother has heard about it. It really isn’t a grand or interesting tale by any means, but I will not have anyone thinking for a moment that his side of the story is the right one. I cannot leave things as they are now that he has started this. Primarily, he needs to read this and learn my point of view.
If you did not read the message that was sent to a random assortment of my FaceBook friends, please do not read on. This was very difficult for me to write and it is only intended to be read by those who read his rant. If not, show some respect for me and close this window now.
Let me begin by saying that this ex boyfriend of mine was very emotionally abusive. Obviously, this has not changed. After our unsettling break up, I spent a year living by myself in the middle of nowhere in my van feeling bitter and misanthropic. In the lead up to the break up, he told me cruel and hurtful things. We argued daily. I felt like I was constantly walking on eggshells, I could hardly say a thing without a being shouted back at. I attributed much of this to the stress of moving countries, but I was wrong.
The story basically goes thus: shortly after I moved to Edinburgh, Scotland, I met who I thought was a charming and funny Irishman. He seemed kind and caring and undeniably loyal. He looked after me and helped me through all the unfortunate things which befell me there, such as being robbed and brutally done over by people I had trusted. Typical New Zealander in another country story, we are too nice and trusting and people take advantage. He helped me out morally, and looked after me when I was sick. However, things began to decline as they often do in relationships. His joblessness bothered me. I worked long hours, usually 12 hours 7 days a week to support the both of us. It was not the fact that he didn’t have a job, but the fact that he didn’t put in the effort to look for one that bothered me. My love and affection waned and we argued frequently. My interest in sex vanished, fair enough.
He chose to come back to New Zealand to be with me provided I tended to my ‘asexuality’, I said I would do something about it because it troubled him. My mum paid for his airfare to come over. Once we got here, the arguing got to the point I simply couldn’t stand it anymore. He became more abusive, I was very upset and unsettled. Perhaps he didn’t consider it abuse, maybe he doesn’t realise. We went to work in Central Otago at an orchard I have worked at before. I worked very hard there as per my usual style, he put in very little effort, starting 3 hours after I would and such. We returned to Dunedin. In that time, we broke up. I didn’t see why we couldn’t still be friends. He, on grounds of pointless personal rules, is “always rude and ignorant to his exes”, and so he was. It made being at home very uncomfortable. In the end, he took a lot of my money I had trusted him with (my British bond, money of mine so that he could get an NZ visa, etc.) and literally did a runner. Left a note, and sodded off. He returned to Central Otago to find his job gone, and blamed it on me. He bunged a lift of a chap at the orchard and went to Wellington where, over two years later, he remains.
Now, to rectify various issues one by one. Some of these are extremely personal, but he has brought them up so regrettably, I must do the same. The rest is written in address to him personally, assuming he will read it. Here we go.
1) Patrick. Neither my mum nor I ever interfered with your employment at the orchard. They didn’t give you your job back because they didn’t WANT you back. They told me you were an incompetent, hopeless worker who couldn’t do most of the jobs you were given, which doesn’t say much for you as they were all pretty simple. Last season there was a 17 year old boy doing your pack house job, and after you left an old man replaced you. They even had an amusing nickname for you and made fun of you for a long time afterwards. You don’t know what hard work means. Not once did I see you put in anywhere near the effort I did - in New Zealand or in Edinburgh. Your narrative makes you out to be a hard worker and seems like you had a job most of the time, which is of course erroneous. You were an unemployed, lazy waste of space for most of the time I knew you.
2) So, you were my slave, were you? I see you neglect to mention the 70 hour weeks I was working so that you could sit at home all day playing computer games. I left for work every morning with an ironic “have a productive day” knowing you couldn’t get out of your own way to look for a job. I’m pretty sure my efforts outweigh your occasional dish-doing. You seem to forget that I paid for all your groceries for six months, that you took money out of my money box, that I bought you clothes, took you on trips, paid all your bond. Or did that just slip your mind? Do you remember Christmas time, when it was freezing cold and snowing, when I put my back out, was covered in a rash from that allergic reaction, had a chest infection, and was still going to work? It was so I had enough money to look after you. So fuck your “giving me a comfortable life”, if it weren’t for me you would have had no home. I took you in and gave you a comfortable life. You appreciated nothing of it. Before that you were a freeloading mooch, something you are proficient at.
3) The trickles of money you did pay me back far from covered what you owed me. Also, I never asked you to fix my laptop, in fact I asked you not to. What you did, Patrick, is theft whichever way you slice it. I trusted you to give my money back, and I was wrong to do so. You did me over worse than Sheree, Sean and Judith, or the Korean woman. Lesson well learnt! I should never have trusted you. I thought you were the flower that grew out of the pot of dirt, but you are no better than the shit that fertilised it. You can try and justify taking my money and doing a runner however you want Patrick, but you’re a thief and a pitiful liar and that is a fact.
4) This part makes me sick even to think about. How DARE you say such disgusting things. Just because a girl’s underwear is unclean does not mean she has been furiously masturbating, it means her body is functioning the way girls’ bodies do. You ignorant dumbfuck. Stop trying to justify the fact that I didn’t want to sleep with you. I certainly was not off playing with myself in lieu of intimacy with you. It is abhorrent to make such assumptions and post them publicly because you suspiciously eyed your girlfriend’s underwear while doing the washing.
5) As for the addressing of my sexual ‘problems’, I did certainly address them by means of a very expensive therapist. I went to placate you and my mother who both thought it unnatural that a girl should be disinterested in sex. The therapist told me I was an intelligent, independent young woman who just wasn’t that into it. I also saw a counsellor, who said the same thing. Not every girl is a lust driven libidinous slut like you seem to expect them to be. I am very prudish, it was not the first relationship in which I had not um, ‘put out’ for want of a better term. Here’s something I wish I had realised at the time; a person’s appearance changes once you get to know them. An outwardly attractive person might be ugly on the inside, and so become ugly to you; their appearance seems to change. The same applies vice versa, a physically unattractive person might be beautiful on the inside, and they become beautiful to you. You did nothing to make yourself attractive to me. A lazy, argumentative, unmotivated, uneducated sloth is not the sort of person I want to jump into bed with. The more I saw these unattractive aspects of your personality, the less attracted I was to you. I didn’t want to have sex with you, and why would I?
6) You need to grow the fuck up. Seriously dude, you’re almost 30 and you are behaving like a teenager. But then, that’s nothing new, your tantrums were reminiscent of a small child. What the Hell is wrong with you? What kind of person writes all that rot and sends it out to his ex girlfriend’s friends, over two years later, as if anyone was interested. No one wants to know about our intimacy issues, that’s no one else’s business. And what prompted it, my walking past you? Obviously, Patrick, you haven’t moved on. Either that or there is something fundamentally wrong with you. Yes I was bitter for some time but I got over it, because that’s what normal people do. I have even had a ten month relationship since. You really need to do the same. I don’t care what you’re doing with your life now, but I know it won’t be anything noteworthy. I would like you to know that my life improved tenfold after you departed it. I have been doing well and am working towards a career. I have wonderful friends that I adore who know that your bullshit is… exactly that.
7) I did not beg you to come to New Zealand. I recall telling you that you had to make that decision promptly while it was still possible to cancel flights. It was stupid of you to have all your belongings shipped across the world to a country you had never been to before and might not have liked, especially when you were uncertain of the future of the relationship you were going there to pursue.
8) How DARE you say I was raped and in denial, would you kindly stop thinking that, and would you kindly not tell everyone you know? It is a VERY serious accusation. I have not been raped, stop trying to convince me that I was, that’s fucked up. Again, trying to seek some reason why I didn’t want to have sex with you.
I have learnt some very important life lessons from this experience. Patrick, get over it, move on, and leave me alone. I have had my say and you have more than had yours. Leave it there. I don’t want you anywhere near me. I never want to hear from you again, and my friends will ignore anything you try and send them. In future, if you have something to say, say it to me alone. None of it is anyone else’s business and no one else actually wants to know this shit. All you’ve achieved is to make yourself look like a right dunce. You have upset me greatly for the last time. I feel sorry for those reading this. That’s all for now, I’m too upset to think of anything more to say. Uprooting all this crap from years ago is thoroughly unnecessary, and just because you haven’t gotten over it, doesn’t mean I want to be dragged back into it. I burnt your love letter and gave away the things you left behind. It’s called moving on, try it. I have achieved a lot in the time since last I saw you, I’m willing to bet everything I own that you haven’t. If you consider getting a job and a flat a high achievement then hooray for you. Part of me still hopes that you’ve enjoyed New Zealand.
Good bye, get over it, grow up, and shut up.
Freyja.
PS: Have a shave, you look like Captain Haddock.
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