A couple of nights ago an ex boyfriend called out of the blue. We hadn’t spoken in about five months, and he just wanted to say hi.

He broke up with me three years ago, after an intense seven month relationship. He had decided to get back together with his ex-girlfriend. I remember it vividly. I was devastated. In fact I’ve still got a dent in my bedroom wall, where I threw my boot in a fit of tearful rage. Platforms were in at the time, and I’m surprised that boot didn’t do a lot more damage.

So we chatted, he’s recently been retrenched, and I don’t think things are working out for him quite as he’d planned. But to be honest, I couldn’t get off the phone fast enough. I made an excuse, something about the kitchen being on fire, and made my escape.

All I could think about for the rest of the night was what had I been thinking? What did I see in him? Why was I so devastated when he broke up with me? What had been so special about this guy that at the time I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it?

Which got me thinking about the rest of my exes. And to tell you the truth I’m finding it hard to think of one I wish I were still with today.

Take my first love, James, for example. I was totally mad about him. Twinsaver’s shares must have escalated by more than 39% when he broke up with me, I cried solidly for two months. I also did the obligatory ex-girlfriend drive by. I must have driven past his flat at least twice a day for a month. Petrol was obviously cheaper then than it is now.

I bumped into him a while ago. He pulled up next to me in traffic. We decided to meet for a drink to catch up. It turns out, since we parted ways he had managed to get his secretary pregnant, marry her, cheat on her, divorce her, get fired, start his own business and get bankrupt. Still such a catch!

He told me he was single and concentrating on a new business idea. It was good to see him, we’d always gotten on, and it was a nice blast from the past. A week later I called him, and what do you know? His fiancé, who he was living with, and somehow forgot to mention to me, answered the phone. I didn’t bother leaving a message.

What had I been thinking? How could I have liked him so much back then, and wasted all those perfectly good tears on such an idiot?

Another of my exes, Simon, is now living in London. Ours was a long and steamy relationship. The difference with this one was that I knew he was bad news from the beginning, but I became addicted to him. He was fun and sexy, and breaking it off with him after three years was a tough but necessary decision.

While we were seeing each other I was so absorbed by the things he did for me, that I didn’t notice all the things he didn’t do for me. Little things like remember my birthday and make any attempt to meet my family. I was blinded by the great sex, the good company and all the attention he showered on me.

In retrospect I should have seen the writing on the wall early on in our relationship. After spending a deliciously sexy night together, he walked me to my car, kissed me deeply and said; “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Faith.” Faith! Faith! Who the hell is Faith? My name is Paige!

More recently, on a trip home for his best friend’s wedding we went out for dinner to catch up. He spent starters and main course telling me about his girlfriend back home in London. How much he loves her, how much he adores her and how she’s the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with. And then he spent dessert trying to stick his hand up my skirt. In retrospect I had to ask myself why breaking up with him back then had been such a difficult decision?

There are a couple of reasons I can think of for this phenomenally bad taste in men. Either I was so blinded by love or lust in each relationship, that I couldn’t see any of the guy’s faults until after I was over them.

Or maybe with each different relationship I’ve taken one step closer to recognising what it is I’m NOT looking for in a man.

Or perhaps it is that I really do just have phenomenally bad taste in men!


By: Paige Nick

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