So I believe we left off somewhere around 2013.
I packed up my room in the house I shared with my boyfriend at the time in Brisbane, and I borrowed a bright pink suitcase from my Grandma to shove all of my clothes into. I got a $1000 overdraw limit on my debit card approved and I had my measly $1000 savings in my account. $2000 (half of that not even my money) to pack up and move interstate… Man being a 20-year-old allowed you to make dumb decisions.
I handed in my resignation at the casino and I still have the photo I took when I left that sad establishment for the last time. I was pretty fucking chuffed with myself. I was sad, and life was offering me a change and so I was running with it. I remember the last dinner I had with my boyfriend. We went and ate meatballs and I remember looking at him and not being able to imagine my life without him. I second guessed my decision every step of the way, and in my mind I honestly hoped that my boyfriend would turn around at any moment and scream ‘NO HANA, STAY WITH ME FOREVER, YOU’RE MY DREAM GIRL, MARRY ME! ‘. This didn’t happen, which shocked absolutely no one. And when I boarded the plane to Melbourne I was scared shitless.
My friend picked me up from the airport when I arrived and we went to my new house. By house I obviously mean the granny flat in the back yard of an italian families house in Preston. No really, it was a granny flat, in the back yard, of an Italian family of 5’s house. My bed room was about 3×4 and I would wake up every day to one of the boys in the family kicking a fucking soccer ball against my ‘house’. Fun times.
I was pretty happy though, and I spent the next 8 months recovering from my last relationship. Walking around a new beautiful city in absolute awe. I went to heaps of cool bars, smoked rollies, drank beer and enjoyed it for the first time in my life, worked at a cool bar, went to bush doofs, tried a nang for the first time. I met some of my favourite people in the world, and I also met my next ex boyfriend
So a fun thing that I’ve learnt about myself is that I get weirdly obsessed with people. At about the 9 month mark of being in Melbourne, I went to dinner one night with a group of my friends. I remember sitting next to my friend and seeing him for the first time and just thinking he was pretty fucking cool. He’d been in Berlin, he smoked aswell. I was just hooked on the idea of him before I even knew him. The universe threw me a bone because a few weeks later, he was moving into my friends spare room! Lucky for me, I spent 90% of my time at that house. I must have seemed like the biggest stalker. But like I said, weirdly obsessed.
We hung out a few times, I remember he asked for my number and he called me instead of texting because that was easier. Pretty fucking cool, right!? He kissed me one night and it was the first time I’d been crazy excited about someone in ages. The start of the relationship happened really fast.I thought it was because we had SUCH AN EXPLOSIVE CONNECTION. Looking back, I think he was probably just trying to get out from the thumb of his ex girlfriend who was crazy and would call him at 2am in the morning to yell at him. Dating someone new was a quick way to show someone you’re not interested anymore, right?
I think that analysis is a good place to leave it for today. Mainly because this is turning into a novel of my life.
Hello is anybody out there still interested?
Eh, till next time.