I had been living in London for six months. I came here to be with my boyfriend who I’d been with for a year before moving.

London is a fantastic city and when I think about it, a great place for a break-up like mine. London is a city of opportunity while still being a glorified slum. Sometimes how you see the city seems entirely up to you and your circumstances, much like my old relationship was.

At the start, when first together we’d be apart most of the time. He treated me well at the start, being so soft and sweet. In the beginning I felt loved. He’d always made a point of calling me every day while we were apart. Me in my native Australia and him in his native London. He would be there on the phone when I needed a shoulder to cry on and when I just wanted to laugh and celebrate my achievements.

I’d met my now ex-boyfriend while I was travelling. Spending some time with my girlfriends’ in a London pub sinking a few celebratory pints after we’d had a whirlwind tour of Europe. My ex had been there too all five foot four of him, chubby and smiling he’d chatted away to me in his workingclass Londoner accent about many things however, right now I remember very well that a big topic for him at the time was how he thought the Tories were great. Looking back, this may seem a weird pick-up line.

Looking back now too I realise how he was so full of contradictions. Someone whose mother raised him with the aid of state-funded housing and welfare payments not to mention the help of statefunded medical services provided by the NHS, he should perhaps have not been the sort of person to support such a right-leaning, anti-welfare government.

Being blind to how he could not be here without socialist ideas, he’d spent a portion of the night making fun of immigrants, his problem specifically was those immigrants who were from Eastern Europe who frequented these services and prized them as they didn’t have anything quite like this at home. Of course, those same people were all working and supporting the majority of British who sat at home on social welfare however, people like my ex chose to ignore this fact.

All the red flags were present then however, in my infinite inexperience with men and my deep want to be charmed, I bought into him wholesale.

While we’d been together at a distance he’d coaxed me to move to London to be with him. I had been living in London for six months and three days’ after my twenty-fifth birthday when long-term boyfriend, Darren was kicking up his usual fuss. He was upset about something, likely something happening at work and was taking it all out on me at home. As I’d moved to London to be with him, I had no other friends’ in the big city at that point. Whenever he would get mad like this, I would feel immediately vulnerable and he would pray on my vulnerability.

“What’s wrong with you!” he shouted at me moments after entering our tiny flat, “I should kick you out – you never do anything properly.”

“What are you talking about, ‘never do anything properly’!?” I repeated

His words that were meant to be hurtful came at once, “I mean, you can never fix your problems.”

“This isn’t my problem, Darren. It’s yours. You came back here all mad and want me to fix you. They’re your feelings, why don’t you fix them!” As I knew he was upset was about something outside of me this was easy to say.

He sighed walked into our bedroom. I waited for a moment before following. When I did follow he was throwing on a coat and finding his wallet.

“Where are you going?” I asked, feeling shocked.

“Out.” He said shortly, his many chins bouncing.

Deep down inside myself a truth existed that I would never admit to out loud. The truth was that despite everything I’d kept seeing him because he was so unattractive. I wasn’t proud of it but I’d done it because I thought me being so far out of his league, he would want to stay with me and would feel he had to treat me well. Remaining in a relationship because you were insecure I can see now, was a poor choice. One should never make romantic choices based on themselves feeling insecure or lonely.

He stomped out of the house and I collapsed into a heap on our couch. I felt miserable. What was I doing! I was not with this man for the right reasons: we’d hooked up because I was lonely being so far from home and my family (although I didn’t realise it at the time) and he’d filled a hole in my life for just long enough that I felt things were real, that he was the man he pretended to be despite all evidence proving otherwise. I had made a mistake moving to London after I’d graduated my degree program.

Now where was he? His behaviour was forcing me to face facts and it begged the question I’d been considering previously, could I really make it in this big, scary city on my own if I had to? I sat there crying for some time before I pulled myself together.

Not one for inaction I picked up a note book and found a blank page. On it I wrote the first questions that I had for myself:

1. What would I need if I was to make it on my own in London? - Income - A place to live - Friends/a support network 2. How would I achieve these things? - Get a job that’s not tied to my boyfriend like my current one (he’ll get me fired once I leave if he can anyway) - Move into a hostel for a little while then find something more permanent when I’m ready – loads of backpackers do this. I can do it too. - Go out, get involved in groups, like finding a book club. 3. What was the next step? - Break up with him, find a place to go and a job within the week. 4. Was I ready? No. Not at all. I don’t want to do this. Please don’t make me do this!

I sat staring at my questions for some time, realising how easy this could be for me if I let it. Was I ready to do it though?