Dear Agony Aunty,
I’ve just found out that my partner doesn’t love me anymore. We met by way of a mutual friend about eight years ago and it’s true to say we’ve had our fair share of ups and downs but this break up has come as a real shock.
He said that my love had too many conditions, that I was too demanding and that I changed all the time, he didn’t know where he was from one year to the next. But he looked after me and cared for me voluntarily. Now I don’t know what to do. I feel so hopeless. I’ve spent the last few weeks hiding under a duvet trying to carve his name into my forearm with a blunt biro and writing pretend death threats.
I’m planning to stay here forever and ever and ever, or at least until he begs to have me back.
Signed,
QoF
Dear QoF,
It reminds me of my own first love. I remember it well. His name was Dave and we shared a bucket of chicken and had a little moment in the back seat of my dad’s Vauxhall Vectra.
When he dumped me I posted poo through his letter box and stalked him through the streets, shouting abuse at him like: ‘why go out for a burger when you can have steak at home?’
Don’t worry though, it will all come right in the end. He’ll come crawling back to you, QoF, with his tail between his legs, when he finds out that the alternative is a demanding slag, just like you.
All the best,
Agony
