Last legs

Another year, another list of resolutions to break.

1. No beer for a month (lasted one day)
2. No arguments with the boy (lasted two days)
3. No blogging at work (lasted four days)

Resolution no. 2 was not all my fault. I blame a jaded little pill, I blame Charlie, but mainly I blame him.

It started on New Year's Eve. The party started well: had a few drinks, danced with a boy that could swing dance and played Jenga.

It was all going swimmingly until jealousy made an appearance at about 1am. What an ugly thing it is from every angle. It was on both sides. Him, because I danced with that boy and 'looked deep into his eyes'. Me because this girl followed him around all night and played mind games. 'Did G ever tell you about when we did this together? Has he told you about that?' How does she know so much? Were they an item? Why is she always with him, but whenever I talk to him he walks away?

It got worse and more ugly. I caught him going upstairs many times but most of the time he disappeared completely. Possibly because he was ducking upstairs to take far too much Charlie, which he claimed he lost. He took all the pills, then lied to my face about it only 10mins after taking them in front of me and offering me one.

Because I was alone a lot of the night, many guys didn't realise I was spoken for and engaged in innocent flirting. There was no touching, just a few silly comments made. If I was sober enough to realise that was there intention, I put them straight, but mainly I was thrilled at the attention after being bored and leaning against walls. Is it my fault that when a guy talked to me, it turned out it was usually a line?

The final straw was when the married friend fell over, landing with his hand on my thigh and pulling up the dress in the process. Wife laughed it off, but I left the room humiliated and praying that George didn't find out and thump him for something that I was not sure whether was entirely innocent. I felt sick with worry about it. He found me on the stairs - halfway up, halfway down.

Just another messy night really, and yet it's led to all sorts of arguments ever since. Those sort of arguments that aren't just about what happened one night, but seem endemic of everything wrong with the relationship.

The truth we have to face is we've had some problems for a while. Breaking up and getting back together actually made things worse because I'm more cynical and less trusting than ever.

It's a new year, and the 'relationship' could be on its last legs.

I make all the effort - travel to his, meet his friends, suggest outings, organise nights out. He never makes the effort of meeting my friends, but gets jealous when I'm out for a drink with the guys.

Apparently I put myself out there too much, which reflects badly on me. I also try to hard to impress, and I do so by flirting in a sexual way. Am I supposed to stay home all night, in burqha and a chastity belt?

Until Monday, we had not ventured further than 3 streets from his flat in more than a month. We finally get into town and only a few steps from the Tube station he accuses me of being patronising because I was happy. Lovely come down company, mate.

My head is so full of accusations and misunderstandings, inability to articulate my own defence, complete shock at the left of field comments that start with 'You always...'. Do I? Does it bother you? Why not say something before? Do you think that you are misreading things, over analysing?

I'm unhappy. That's an understatement, I'm this far from being downright miserable.

The only thing I'm sure of is New Years' resolutions are for the weak, flim-flam and self-obssessed. I am not changing who I am, what I do, what I listen to, what I like, and who I'm friends with to please him.

Maybe the 'relationship' needs euthanisia.