Unsolicited Advice for my Dickhead Ex

We all have our dickhead ex-boyfriend stories (also known as DEB from hereon in). DEB, while I don’t hate you, you DO probably deserve a brick to the face.

Like Vegemite and jam on toast, so were we, NEVER meant to pleasantly go together. I thank my lucky stars that I have severed ties with my DEB and while I cant say where he currently lies on the spectrum of Dickhead to Legend, I’d be willing to bet good money that he still lies somewhere close to dickhead territory

If I were to ever bother giving my DEB some tips, to lessen his Taylor-Swift-like trail of disenchanted exes, I would tell him this:

• The more you ask me needy, moronic questions like: ‘How much do you love me though?’ or “what do you love about me more than your ex?’ the greater the temptation to wring your neck. I don’t digest chronic neediness well and your (almost daily) questioning only made me slowly resent you.

• Only in rare circumstances is it acceptable to ask your GF (an, at the time, struggling waitress & 8 yrs your junior) to lend you money. Things like your car blowing up, emergency surgery, your identity and bank cards being stolen are all examples that are acceptable. Taking yourself down to the tattoo parlor to finish off one of your Neapolitan coloured tattoos, is not one. You’re a grown ass man and I didn’t sign up to fund your life’s adventures.

• Don’t pressure a non-muso/heavy metal fan (AKA me) to accompany you to your pretentious muso gigs where I must suffer through awkward small talk with your mates about their latest tat or bodily piercing or how ‘epic’ Parkway Drive’s (or other heavy metal band I don’t listen to) latest album is. These were definitely the low points of our relationship, along with you using my toothbrush fresh after dragging on a ciggy and asking me (weirdly, excitedly) to squeeze your back pimples *shudder*.

• When you say things like: ‘The sun rises and sets with you, Bec’ I feel my eyes roll so far up in my head I think they might not come back down again. You know what it means to me? Nothing. Because you googled that generic shit and I know it.

• I feel like we spent a lot of time and energy dissecting you and your childhood love’s relationship… like that time you confessed to me that your cousin sexually assaulted her and that was the possibly the reason she still called you late at night to argue and cry. That shit’s too hectic to handle at 18 & no, I don’t care to delve deeper into it with you.

• That time I pissed off to work on Hamilton Island (without you) was actually a clever tactic to get away from you. I’m sure you worked that out and that’s why your (already level 10 neediness) skyrocketed. But I was a naive little twit at 18 and, sadly, I didn’t yet have the balls to break up with you yet.

• Whether you have your bedroom properly furnished or not has absolutely nothing to do with me and my presence in your house. I didn’t judge you for it. Hell, I walked into your room and saw your mattress, chewed in the corner by your dog, bed unmade and zero furniture and decided I loved you anyway. You and your unmaterialistic ways. So it was slightly troubling to hear you later say to me that the unit you moved into on your own – was furnished, solely, for MY comfort and benefit. I specifically remember you saying all you needed was a sleeping bag to be happy, ‘This is all for you, Bec, I don’t need this’ you said. Was that my cue to offer to pay you for the fridge and couch and tv set? Or was it just another of your headfuckery guilt tactics? Cheers for making me feel like a bratty bitch for enjoying having a couch to sit on. Sorry/not sorry.

• Also, after a time, it became embarrassing to have to constantly take the rap for your late night fridge binges. I feel confident in saying that it’s usually considered rude, to most, to wake up a household in the middle of night because you’re noisily digging through the fridge for a second dinner. Just sayin’

• And lastly, your afternoon smoke sessions – turned counselling sesh – where we talked through your daily achievements and life’s problems was probably better off left for your Life Coach/Counsellor to deal with. Perhaps in future you could throw in a ‘But how was your day?’ just for shits and giggles?

I could go on and on my friends but I’m going to show some restraint and leave it at that.

Thanks, DEB, for being so terrible at being my boyfriend!

I now know how to distinguish a turd from a legend (& so does everyone else reading this).