The development of an Ice Queen – 1/16/2002

Jump back to 2002 and the entry that explains the first love heart break story.

 

"People are often lonely because they build walls instead of bridges".

Unknown

 

The reality was that my first love and I were too young to be in such an intense relationship. He did not end it with me. I ended it with him. It was a torturous two weeks. I realised that I had made a mistake, that I could not live without him. I went back and said, ‘I’ve changed my mind, I do want to be with you" but it was too late, he didn’t want to be with me. We had been inseparable for the past eighteen months. I was aged seventeen.

 

He drove me home and I collapsed on the floor of my mum’s shabby apartment, sobbing my heart out. I cried continuously for two days and two nights. It was the first time in ages that I had seen my mother was sober for more than 24 hours.

 

She was very compassionate with me but very bitter about men. The indoctrination started. "All men are bastards".

 

I was weak, I could barely move, not a tear left to spare and that speech of hers, must of made its mark.

 

I went back to school that year and I sat next to him in class every day (wanting to be in his presence).

 

However, I did not acknowledge his presence even once. I looked through him. My only way of coping through those feelings was to pretend that he was dead. Except it was me who was dead…I think this experience of loss and feelings of abandonment were heightened by the fact that my grandfather died in the same week. He had been more of a father than my own.

 

Everywhere I went, I looked out to see if he was coming, each place reminding me of a different memory, something he had done or said, each song had a special significance. I remember feeling so betrayed when he started dating someone else.

 

At our end of year formal dance, I remember feeling the best I ever have about the way I looked. I had long dark hair and wore a slinky sheer burgundy dress, which had a low see through back that did up with little black velvet buttons. Ahhhh youth *sigh*.

 

I remember the look on his face as I emerged out of the hired limousine with his arch nemesis Silas (soulful, sexy Silas who I had since transferred my affections).

 

I felt sorry for his date, a cheap looking blonde skank in a gem of a party line white dress and white shoes. I will never forget seeing the look of regret on his face when he realised that he had given me up. He did not look at his date all night, he watched me dance with Silas.

 

I recall so vividly, thinking, I will teach you

the meaning of sickness and desire. You want me now but you’re never going to have me again.

 

"A man falls in love through his eyes, a woman through her ears".

Woodrow Wyatt

 

I did not see him for about three years after that. One night I had sat on my balcony with some friends that I was sharing my apartment with from art school. We were drinking and recalling tales of our first loves. I felt so low that I cried. I told them I was over it (not him). They insisted that I call him. I let my guard down and I called him. He was so pleased to hear from me.

 

We arranged to meet for a drink in a pub at Redfern near where he was working at the time. I had a suede head as I had recently shaved off all of my hair.

 

I remember feeling very anxious about his reaction, whether or not he would still think I was attractive, or whether I looked like a dyke. I walked into the pub, which was full of men and I could see him sitting with a group of friends who were all winding him up about me, "Who is this chick anyway?"

 

When he saw me, he ran over and hugged me and said, "You look so beautiful, and you’ve cut off all that hair, you look great". I didn’t, I looked bloody terrible.

 

He came back to my apartment for coffee, which of course led to a one more time for the record bonk. When we had finished, he laid back and said, "I had forgotten how good it feels to fuck someone that you love".

 

When we awoke in the morning, he dressed and left without saying goodbye. I did not see him again for a couple of years.

 

The next time I saw him was the morning after my brother’s death. He had heard about it and just turned up.

 

He had a girlfriend but he held me all day long. He accompanied me to the pre funeral wake, the funeral, and the many post-funeral wakes. He also came along the benefit night that was held for my brother.

 

He came to visit me every year at work without fail on the anniversary of my brother’s death, baring a bouquet of beautiful flowers. On each occasion he was very tender, but I would not let him back into my heart.

 

Even though I was in my darkest hour, I remembered my promise to myself, "Shut him out of your life". At the time I did not know that this would apply to just about anyone else that tried to be let in.

 

"To know a man, observe how he wins his object, rather than how he loses it; for when we fail our pride supports us; when we succeed, it betrays us."

Charles Caleb Colton