Hello. I’ve never posted here before, so sorry if this is just a MASSIVE ramble, or not suitable for this forum, but I need somewhere to get it all off my chest and writing things down in this way is helping me gain a little clarity.
I’m a 32 year old London lady who has relocated to Australia for my (now ex) boyfriend, who is 28.
In the (English) summer of 2012 I met an Aussie guy who was working in my hometown of London on a 2 year visa. He had 6 months left on his visa before he had to return to Melbourne, so we had a whirlwind relationship and fell head over heels for eachother in the remaining time he had left- he was tall, handsome, funny (a stand up comedian) and we had so much in common, the chemistry was electric.
When he departed at the end of 2012, we were both heartbroken and thought that would be the end, but we Skyped twice a day everyday and sent constant texts/photo/emails etc, so realised it was worth exploring as we were still crazy for eachother, so I said I’d come over to visit him on a visa for 1 year and see if we had a future together.
In September 2013 I quit the 4 jobs I’d been working to build up enough funds so I didn’t have to work there at first and jetted off to live with him in the new apartment he’d rented for us- I felt the happiest girl in the world beginning this new adventure with the man of my dreams.
From the minute my plane touched down in Melbourne and he collected me from the airport in a big cinematic style reunion embrace, he was attentive, kind and even better/sexier than I remembered him, we were stupidly in love and barely left his apartment for the first 3 weeks, gazing into each others eyes as I settled into the love nest he’d been decorating for my arrival and recovered from my jet lag/acclimatised to being in a new country with no friends or family around me.
On my second night in the Melbourne, he asked me to marry him. I was ecstatic and couldn’t wait to tell everyone back home, I couldn’t believe it was all real and I was on cloud 9 that we were back together after all the long distance Skype sessions and heartache of being apart, we’d overcome all the waiting and the future looked amazing, so we went out buying stuff for the apartment and I set about creating a nice little home for us, cooking, cleaning, ironing his work shirts etc- regrettably now playing the dutiful “wife” role too soon.
His parents and siblings came to visit and they were so nice, welcoming me into the family and saying they were pleased he’d found a lovely girl to settle down with.
Then after about 4 weeks, things changed, he started staying out late after work (he works 3 evenings a week in a nearby bottle shop, whereas he said he was actually the manager of a restaurant when he wasn’t being a stand up comedian and sleeping in until 5pm each day, totally ignoring my presence, so I was left to explore the city alone and try to make some new friends as he still hadn’t taken me anywhere except the local weekly pub quiz night and the pokies with his teenage friends.
I confronted him and he just became even moodier, turning to taking sleeping tablets and drinking excessive amounts of alcohol, staying out with his teenage mates even more and then just crashing into bed in the small hours beside me with his back to me saying he needed space.
Our once active sex life dwindled, we barely touched and he even forgot my birthday- I was devastated as we were supposed to be going to Sydney for the romantic weekend he hinted at whilst I was still in the UK, but he “forgot” to book it and made excuses that we’d go another time when the weather was better and he could borrow his brothers car for a road trip (turns out he can’t even drive).
My mum, suspecting something was wrong, transferred some money into his bank account so he could treat me to a belated weekend away, but of course he just kept the cash, bought more discount booze from work and we didn’t go anywhere.
Yes I realise now I should have left then as I deserved better after coming all this way, but I was so stupidly in love with him and still adjusting to the move to Melbourne with no friends around, that I just gave him chance after chance- the next day he’d apologise, cry, tell me he loved me and would try harder to take me places, plan trips etc, but then of course let me down again by just staying in bed drunk/out of it on Temazepan and then going out drinking/gambling after work with the 18 year olds.
His phone would constantly go off and I kept seeing a girls name flash on the screen, but he’d hide it and say it was his sister or someone from work. I even found a lipstick and ladies bangle in the bathroom cabinet, but he said it was left over from a fancy dress party and became quite aggressive I was questioning what he got up to before I arrived in Australia, then joked it was probably from a “Prostitute he liked to pick up in St Kilda when he was feeling low”
I carried on and did my best to fit in with Australian life, took myself on day trips, made friends with some truly lovely people in the local area and my new neighbours too who were also all English girls who’d married Aussie guys, so at least had some friends now to turn to and go places with, but still felt very isolated in a new country and was starting to really wish I hadn’t uprooted, but kept up the pretence when Skyping my friends and family back home that he was still Mr Wonderful and I was having a ball being treated like a princess. I was too ashamed to let on after the hype surrounding me leaving London and starting a new life there as his wife.
Things then came to a head when he didn’t come home for 2 nights. I was worried sick, nobody could get hold of him and I thought he’d been in an accident or something terrible as 5 years ago he suffered a serious head injury and almost died by the roadside before being found, which left him deaf and blind on one side – so he says....
Desperate, I went into the bottle shop with a friend for moral support- there he was on the checkout, alive, but he instantly became angry I’d gone in there and invaded his territory unannounced- he had shaved off his beard, cut his hair and bought new glasses, he looked like a completely different man to the one I was living with just 2 days previously.
He was rude to my friend and flew off the handle saying I was never to come into his work again and how dare I involve someone else, so I left in tears and my friend advised me to pack some stuff and stay with her as everyone was worried about me being so isolated in the apartment alone with him in that mood.
As I was packing he came home, we argued and he grabbed me by the throat and squeezed hard. He is incredibly tall and I'm tiny, so was terrified as I’d never seen him violent before- he was like Jekyll and Hyde, this was a complete contrast to the loving guy who collected me from the airport weeks before and spent all those months Skyping me, sending romantic gestures and promising the world.
My friends begged me to report his violence, but I was so blinded I refused- there were no marks to show on my neck and I believed he was sorry and we’d eventually make it up, I wanted him so badly, so after a week away and him crying down the phone for me to forgive him, I returned to his apartment and we tried to patch things up with him insisting he would change and stop drinking/taking the sleeping tablets.
Again this lasted a week or so, before he slipped back into drinking late with his young mates and ignoring my calls- or constantly texting when he was at home and just watching TV or sleeping.
We still hadn’t even been out anywhere other than the pub as a couple yet, I was in a new country and wanted to explore everything it had to offer/dress up for a night on the town, or at least go for a coffee, sit on the beach, anything except stay indoors, but he wouldn’t even leave our street- his workplace and the pub quiz/pokies are in the same street just metres opposite from his house- this is his bubble, let alone venture further to take me out for the day, despite only working 3 evenings a week.
We were having sporadic, emotionless/rough sex and he just seemed like an empty shell, pulling the deaf ear act when I said something he didn’t want to answer, but I was still viewing him through my pathetic rose tinted glasses, fancying him like mad and hanging onto the hope he still loved me as much as I did him. Had I been in the UK with my lifelong friends talking sense into me, it might not have happened, but being in a strange place really affected my judgment it seems.
One day it all got too much after we finally went for a brief coffee in a café just across the street- he flirted outrageously with the waitress and shouted at me in public when I pulled him up on it, I was crying on the walk back and begging to talk things over as we got in the front door, but he just stood there blasting music when we got home and laughed hysterically in my face, insisting I didn’t love him and he certainly didn’t ever love me, that I was better when I was just a person in a computer screen in a far away country...he said he wasn't my boyfriend, never was and he didn't know why I followed him to Australia as he never asked me to, not taking in the seriousness that I’d spent thousands of pounds moving to the other side of the world for him and shrugging his shoulders, turning up his favourite song on the stereo and asking if his pride and joy hair looked nice, so I packed all my things, jumped in a taxi and left. He didn’t even say goodbye or look up as I went for the final time, just carried on drinking his coffee in bed, laughing and listening to the metal he was blasting.
With all my possessions hurriedly shoved in numerous carrier bags/cases etc, the taxi took me to the Western suburbs and I found myself in yet another new place. My new friends were outstanding, welcoming me into their lovely, comforting home, giving me time to heal by cooking me delicious meals, watching trashy TV with me and generally putting me back together for the next few weeks whilst I just sat like a zombie in a borrowed dressing gown cuddling their cats, taking it all in whilst they told me I deserved better and he wasn’t worth it etc.
I called his brother to ask if he knew what went wrong and could he maybe speak with my now ex to see why he acted like he did after we were supposed to be getting married in the new year, but he ignored all my messages, so after a few weeks I felt a bit stronger and moved into a new apartment I’d rented myself, vowing to start afresh, cutting all contact with the entire family and finally enjoy Australia alone.
However I’d missed a couple of periods by now and was feeling constantly sick, but I put that down to the enormous stress I’d been under and tried to ignore it. My friends made me take a pregnancy test though when I became faint out shopping one afternoon and there it was- positive. I took 3 more tests, they all said the same.
My whole world just seem to implode. My ex and I weren’t really planning children and I’ve never been one to coo over babies much, so finding myself in this situation, so far from home was terrifying.
The worst was yet to come though. I later saw him in the street near my new apartment, kissing a girl and putting furniture/shopping into a car....my friends from a local shop had seen him frequently too with this same girl over the past weeks- a tall skinny Asian teenager- I am short, curvy and blonde- and upon further investigation, I discovered they had actually been a couple since March 2013, so he had a 19 year old girlfriend all along, but she was conveniently overseas for a few weeks when I arrived in the country, so he knew he was safe until she returned from her holiday and panicked when she came home earlier than expected.
I felt like I’d been hit by a bus- every hope and dream just plummeted- I can’t even recall the next few days, just a blur of agony as the rug was pulled from under me.
I decided he had a right to know about the baby none the less, but didn’t want to see him face to face- cowardly perhaps yes with such important news, but he now terrified me, so I wrote a letter, enclosed the pregnancy conformation and put it through his door whilst I knew he’d be at work. Nothing. I went away for Christmas for a couple of weeks to try and unwind- my first Aussie Christmas and I was pregnant and sleeping at a friend’s sister’s house, not quite what I envisaged, as lovely and welcoming as they made the stay for me. Still no reply, so I left him a voicemail saying I hoped he’d got the news and we needed to decide what to do.
He promptly replied by text telling me to “Shut up, F*** off and die” and to “get rid of it”- if I wasn’t lying- he refused to even believe I was actually pregnant despite seeing the evidence.
He then sent further nasty texts saying it was all my fault, that I’d lied about being on the pill (in hindsight, I suffered a bout of sickness early in October, so I reckon my pill failed and I fell pregnant because of that)
He said I should have made him use condoms and that he’d find me and badly hurt me so I’d miscarry “the brat”. My friends told me to show the threats to the police which I did- they took note of them and his address etc and said they’d keep an eye on him, but that was that. He was back to playing happy families with his 19 year old and showing her off to his family/friends.
I sobbed for days and yet again my new Aussie friends were amazing, looking after me and making sure he didn’t find out my new address. The dream holiday had turned into a nightmare.
I made the decision to have an abortion and was all set on it, but in 2005 I had a horrendous miscarriage from a relationship with a childhood sweetheart and realised I’ve never fully dealt with that, so have decided I can’t go through with a termination and that I am going to raise this baby alone.
My family want me to come home, so I think I will end up returning to London ASAP before I grow too big to fly, but have no job to go back to and will find it difficult getting work now in my situation I think as my normal occupation is very active and have never claimed benefits in my life, so that upsets me.