Welcome home.

I flew in from Tokyo early yesterday morning.

It was an amazing trip, a blog I will have to sit down and write when I'm feeling compelled to detail every moment how it deserves to be described. This blog however, is to update the situation on Anthony and relieve whatever tensions I have left circling my shoulder blades.

The day we left was awkward to say the least, I acted polite and nice, maybe a little too nice? He didn't seem receptive. It pissed me off by the time we got to our house in Nozawa Onsen (an hour drive to Cairns, 8 hour flight to Tokyo and a 5 hour shuttle later) I decided I couldn't be nice any longer. For the next four days I was angry and ignoring him. Maybe it was because he grabbed my bag from the shuttle and didn't check to see if anything had fallen out- only to realise fifteen minutes later that my iPhone had disappeared. I'm not blaming him but it was careless nonetheless. What a great start to my holiday, he was still as selfish as ever. I had his camera and the rest of his crap in my bag and if I had of grabbed it I would of made sure all of his stuff was still in there! So on we went, being hostile. He was hot and cold, randomly asking me something nice at one moment, then snapping at me a few minutes later. I was sick in the stomach every day from stress that he's caused in the past few months and the events most recently which didn't put me in the greatest mood either.

Finally on the sixth day (our supposed one year anniversary) he; out of the blue, puts his arm around me because I was cold and did so walking from the village to home. Every one went to sleep and I toddled down to my room to hop in bed and read my book. He comes down and asks me if I want to have a bath with him. I contemplate it, I like that he's giving me attention, I go along with it. So we hop in our swimmers and squeeze in to the tub. The hot water runs out, there goes our moment. Consequently the gas had run out so we had no heaters or hot water so we both hopped in bed freezing. He complains and tells me to hop in his bed and make him warm, I look at him sideways and tell him if he wants to he can hop in my bed. After he acts cool for five minutes and I've rolled over ignoring him; reading my book, he jumps in. He grabs me from behind and wraps his arms around me and entangles his legs in to mine. What the hell was he thinking? What the hell was I thinking? His body was warm and comfortable and fit where it usually would. My heart was pounding and I could feel his blood pumping in to his lower region, against my back. I roll on to my back so I can't feel his excitement anymore. He takes this as an invitation. His hand moves slowly and purposefully for my hip, then he's in between my legs being firm and surprising. After what he'd put me through I was astounded. He felt good, I won't lie. But there was a point when what I thought to be passion turned in to "just a fuck" and when he tried to pull my pants off to get what he'd intended, I stopped him and asked him what he was doing. He was awkward. He apologised. Said he didn't know what he was thinking and that he got too comfortable. He got up out of my bed and it was over.

I felt used and humiliated! And on THAT day, out of all the days, why THAT day!

Somehow, later on that night I got over it. I pushed it aside and realised first year anniversaries were just a myth to me and I shouldn't want to celebrate one with my ex that didn't deserve me in the first place. I started being nice again. Why? I'll never know.

That night I wanted that moment back. It was pathethic how I'd taken his horny rush of blood to the head as a hope for a future. He hopped in my bed. Now it was me trying. How foolish, how weak. How disgusting. But he'd gotten me hungry for passion and intimacy and if there is one thing I know, I'm good in bed and I wanted to remind him. We talked for ages contemplating if we were doing the right thing, of course we weren't. He had told me he didn't want an argument later but what he really meant was he didn't want to lead me on. If he didn't want that he wouldn't of started this crap earlier that day. He touched me, we kissed but he didn't kiss me with meaning. It was heartbreaking. I pushed on. I made him crumble and we fell asleep sweaty and I was under his arm, where I'd always wanted to be for the rest of my life.

Something woke me like a blow to the head. Out of nowhere I sat up and gained my breath. Something was wrong. Anthony was sitting up next to me, I asked him what was wrong and I was shivering because I already knew. He was sick, food poisoning from some rare dinner we'd had that night. Most people don't know that I have a phobia of vomiting and that Anthony shared the same hate for it too. I would jump out of a building if it was the only way to get out of a room with someone being sick. It made me panic. I went upstairs and got him a bottle of water and a pill for upset stomachs. He asked me to get him a bucket because he didn't want to go to the toilet, it was too cold. Great. Now I couldn't sleep in the same room. I ran upstairs and got him a bowl. I threw it over to him and ran back up, out of harms way. I felt bad that I couldn't look after him. I woke my Mum up and bless her she went down and watched over him while he had a big chunder. Then she waited til he had settled and gone back to sleep. She brought my blanket upstairs and after going to the toilet myself, countless times with a bad case of the runs, one valium later, I'm asleep on the couch.

The next day we were leaving and Anthony had seemed fine. I had still needed to go to the toilet excessively. Maybe I had gotten it too. We waited for the shuttle to arrive to take us back to Tokyo, a five hour trip in a van. While we waited, Anthony starts feeling terrible again. His face goes yellow and I start panicking, thinking of being trapped in a van with a vomiter. We drive for an hour while he sweats and complains and I'm freaking! I tell the driver to pull over for a toilet and Dad walks Anthony in and he falls to the floor and vomits everywhere, the toilet entrance was open so he was in full view of me and others. And he was as loud as anything. I felt horrible for him. He came out crying and that's when my heart melted and I then turned back to being the girl he'd been with for the past twelve months.

I hugged him and doted on him every moment. We got to our hotel and instead of sightseeing Tokyo with my family, I chose to stay in with Anthony to help him rest and feel better. I ran him a bath with peppermint bath salts. I helped him in, disregarded his nudity and got a washer and sponged him down. I made him a tea, tidied up his clothes and put away the ones he was wearing and got out his pyjamas. I put the water and stamina drink next to his bed and made sure everything was waiting when he got out of the bath. I was nice and loving, kissing him on his head, telling him I'll always love him and be there for him. Make him feel safe to be sick in a foreign country so far from home. We layed in bed and watched tv, bit by bit he was feeling better. We stayed in the hotel from 3 that afternoon until the next morning.

After that, I felt closer to Anthony- like his vunerability gave me an excuse to be there for him and love him how I'd always wanted to. I thought he would see the lengths I would go for him and somehow have managed to realise I wasn't worth losing. So I threw caution to the wind and figured, "we're on holidays, it doesn't count". I ran hot and cold, wanting to be nice and have that closeness but instantly realising he wasn't going to return it.

We got home from a long first day in Tokyo. Having our own hotel room gave us the freedom which made us feel excited and amorous. We knew that day we would both have a bath together when we'd get home. You know, for a couple that had argued over just about everything in the last few months, we still had our deep connection. Or perhaps it was just routine, predictability. I said I was going to have a bath and hopped in. Moments later he asked if I wanted him to go after me and use my bathwater. What a silly question. God the games we play. I told him I didn't care. He got in the tub with me, both naked and pretending it was nothing to see the body we'd missed. We sat opposite each other with our legs either side of one another. I liked that he could see me naked and in full view. I wanted to make him nervous. He kept leaning on the plug and draining the water so I suggested he turn around and lay back on me. He did. We were so close, I fell in love all over again. Memories of our romantic getaway to Port Douglas flooded my mind. The spa we had with rose petals in it and me thinking I could really get used to that.
I ran my fingers over his chest, dripping warm water over his pecks and down his sides. I breathed in to his ear and wiped his hair back from his face and burried my head in to his neck. "Come on, just love me" I was thinking. He put his hands down over his penis. It was growing and he wanted to hide it, hide how I could make him feel with my hands and my naked body pressed up against his back. I felt empowered. I ran my fingers over him firmly, massaging the body I wanted to be mine again. By now the head of his penis was out of the water and he turned around so he was on top of me. He couldn't take it any longer. He touched me, with intentions to make me just as excited. It was scary how close we were. The other night had been rushed and in the dark, but now we were in full light, in a bath, eyes on each other with plenty of time on our hands. Nothing to hide. I played it up for him. I grabbed at my breasts and watched his eyes take in my body and what he was doing to me. He wouldn't kiss me and again, it shattered my heart. I was looking, searching for something, a sign that it wasn't just sex. That's when he rested his head on my chest and kissed my breasts. He was soft. I knew those kisses were for my lips. Why was he hiding how he felt? We hopped out of the bath and continued our playfullness on my bed. He stops and tells me he's going to put on a condom (as I'm not on birth control right now) and reaches for his suitcase.

I couldn't believe he had bought some with him!

He told me he never wanted to see me or talk to me again, that he wasn't coming to Japan. Then he tells my Mum he is and to remind me we aren't getting back together, he doesn't talk to me until the day we leave AND YET STILL BRINGS CONDOMS WITH HIM?

I will never understand men. He obviously was preparing to have sex with me so he must of thought it would happen. I felt stupid again. Here I was, caught up in the moment when he'd fucked me off before the trip and somehow predicted to fuck me on the trip. Great.

He put the condom on and we kept going. He was behind me, I wasn't reacting or moaning or showing any sign of enjoying myself. He stopped and asked me if I was ok, or uncomfortable. I didn't care. "Just fuck me and get it over with" I thought. He stopped and I rolled on to my back and we finished in missionary. We came together. I hated that we did. Another reason I still felt linked to him with some underlying connection.

The next day was New Year's Eve. I was tender that this time last year Anthony had made my night incredible and we had our first kiss and stayed up to watch the sun rise over 2008. It was a more sensitive day to me than our first anniversary. I tried to shrug it off. I got dressed up and hardly gave him the attention he'd been seeping off me the past two days. We spent most of the night in an English pub where I chatted to an old American guy who found me really interesting. He asked if Anthony and I were married and I expained our story to him in short version. When we parted he told us he'd hoped we get back together. Ha. I couldn't believe some random would say that. I felt like it was a sign. But maybe I was desperate.

We did the count down on the fortieth floor of our hotel overlooking Tokyo and it was almost dismal. I didn't say anything to him. He came over to me and said it, grabbing my shoulders hard as if to say, "I still love you, I'm sorry, I wish I could kiss you but we aren't the same anymore." All that from one touch. I'll never know now what he was thinking.
We went back to my parents room to continue the party but I'd had enough. I said I was off to sleep and Anthony said he'd come with me. I ignored him the whole way back to our room. I hopped straight in bed, rolled over and read my book. He came over to me and asked me to move over and I said, "Just sleep in your own bed." He asked me if I had the shits and I said yeah. I put my book down, held back the tears and some of the best memories of my life that were now a nightmare and fell asleep.

The first day of 2009, I woke up depressed as all fuck that I'd slept through one of the biggest nights of the year and I hadn't started it with the same excitement, love, joy and hope as I did last year. I hopped in the shower and cried for fifteen minutes straight. Anthony had asked me what was wrong and I just said I didn't want to talk about it. He knew, why did he have to ask.

That night we went to an Italian restaurant, just the two of us. We hadn't had traditional Japanese food since he and I had gotten upset stomachs so we were sticking to western food til we got home. So with the rest of the family eating noodles and food they'd never seen before, we sat there at the Italian place, like a "couple". We got the opportunity to be alone and "talk" about us. To tell you the truth I can hardly remember what was said. I do remember him asking me what I wanted, as if pushing me to say that I still loved him and wanted him back, just so he could reject me and feel the control and power he'd seized over me. I said nothing. I would never give him that. I sat there with eyes glazed with hopelessness. "I make you upset all the time don't I?". If only he knew the half of it.

He slept in my bed that night because I'd gone to sleep crying. I woke him up and told him to hop in my bed. I didn't even touch him, but as soon as I felt his comfortable, familiar body warmth, I drifted straight off to sleep.

The next day was the last day we had in Tokyo. My cold was turning in to a flu and Anthony said he'd wait around for me to feel better before leaving the hotel. I questioned why he never gave me a hug when he knew I needed one yet I always gave him one. Then he'd force some uncomfortable hug on me. Pft.
We went out on our own and explored. We got lunch and then caught the tube to Shibuyu where there is mad shopping. The day ended and the next thing I know our holiday was over and we're at the airport.
Anthony kept doing little things that kept reminding me how selfish he can be. He knew I was shitty and upset to be going home so he offered to hold my handbag. We got on the plane and watched a movie. I put my hand out and he grabbed it, only because he knew I'd crack the shits if he didn't. God, what did I expect. I leant over and told him I wasn't going to love him anymore when we got home.

So that brings me to yesterday when we arrived home at seven in the morning. We dropped him home and he'd said he would be around later to drop off some of my stuff. That never happened. I rang him that night and told him I needed to talk.

I went over to his house and told him how disgusted I was about what happened before and during the holiday. I told him I can't be in and out of his life whenever it suits him and I don't want to be involved with a person who upsets me all the time. I also asked why he'd brought condoms with him and why he did the things he did with me but never responded to my affection. He had nothing to say except that he didn't hug me or kiss me because he didn't want to lead me on, he was sorry for upsetting me and he never wanted this to turn out like it did. He asked what I was doing for the rest of the night and as soon as I'd gotten home a guy had asked to hang out that night and I thought, fuck it, why not. I told him I was hanging with a guy and it was none of his business who it was. The whole time I was talking, I was saying goodbye to him in my head. I asked him if he had anything else to say and he didn't so I got up and left. He gave me the smart arse, "have fun tonight." I looked at him and laughed and drove off. I could tell he was upset that I was seeing someone. I didn't look back while he stayed outside to watch me go. I just kept driving, and for the first time in ten days, I felt good again.

I went to Cairns today by myself and did things for myself. It was rewarding, relaxing and exactly what I needed. I'm ready to get on track to getting over Anthony. Now that I don't have to see him or talk to him, I feel almost free. He is a lost cause and not worthy of what I have to give. I got a new sim card today so now I can finally communicate with people again. I got home this afternoon and he spoke to me on msn. Gave me his number, like I'm so eager to text him- NOT. Asked how my day was, I said it was really good and I had to go.

I don't want to speak to him. He had his chance. He doesn't want to be with me, so that's what he'll get...

I just wish I knew what he felt. Does he mean it when he says he doesn't want to be in a relationship with me? Does he still love me or like me or care about me? Is he just playing fucking games?

Actually I don't wish to know any of that.

I do know exactly what he's thinking. He thinks he can tell me to go away because when he's ready for me again (which will be one day soon), he believes I love him that much that I'll be waiting.

I've got you figured out Anthony and until you ever understand me, I'll never be there for you again.

I'm done.