It’s safe to say that I’ve been thinking too much. Not just about my ex, but about the ex before the ex. This is a bit of a sad post, but these things need to be said. We broke up two years ago. We went out for 15 very difficult months. He was living in Amsterdam, I was in London, and the long-distance situation took its toll. As did his anger problem. And his coke habit.
He had good in him. He used to do such lovely things for me. But, unfortunately, this was overshadowed by a temper that grew to terrify me.
I broke up with him after a disastrous two-week holiday in Florida. The trip got off to a great start with him screaming at me at the airport, drinking too much on the flight, and nearly making me drive off the road in Miami. The entire two weeks was punctuated with daily arguments, culminating in a shouting match at the happiest place on earth (well, an Italian restaurant in Disney Village). He said I made him look like a fool (he actually used another word for ‘fool’, one beginning with a ‘c’) when I corrected the way he had ordered a pizza.
Woah. Spooky. Until right now I didn’t realise this breakup also involved a pizza of doom.
I’m not a confrontational person. I don’t like conflict. I really don’t like anger. The relationship left me with a twitchy eyebrow, a complex about my weight, a handful of happy memories, and a lot of anger towards myself for putting up with everything that happened. I also had no sex drive and believed I would never want to be near a man again. Ever. Which is why it felt so remarkable when I met my ex and was so incredibly attracted to him.
He was very understanding. I’d never really talked to anyone about the ex before the ex before. I didn’t want my friends to think less of me. I couldn’t tell my family because they would be devastated. To this day my parents believe we broke up because I couldn’t deal with the fact that he didn’t love Disney World.
My ex was so kind and so patient when we first got together and I got freaked out by certain situations. I could tell him anything. And – boom – my sex drive was back with a vengeance. I really thought he was perfect. But, you know what? I’m not sure he would love Disney World either.
Pizza of Doom 
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