Unfortunately sometimes as a single girl we do stupid, stupid things. This blog post was brought to you by Blossom Hill.
I went out with an acquaintance of mine recently for drink after work, just one of course! This turned into a bit of a session and I broke my new rule about not drinking wine and sticking to vodka and tonic and staying sensible.
Now I say acquaintance rather than friend because I don’t know this guy very well, here is how we met, and a little bit of dating history…
I woke up with a stinking hangover, rolled over to see my ex had made it home at some point. I’d managed to get in before him and fallen asleep before he could fall through the door.
Initially I had been about to give him a hug and then I remembered the events of the night before, the fight we had in front of his friends about his ex (again) me crying and being stuck in Surrey with nowhere to go but back to his house. Him leaving me at the train station sobbing and I travelled back to his alone. When I got there he was not even present, I don’t know when he got in.
I got up and without waking him, packed my bags knowing that this had to be the absolute last time that this could happen. That we would argue about his ex-forever and would end up making each other miserable. I already was miserable. I booked the taxi while he was still sleeping then woke him to say goodbye. I told him it wouldn’t be like the other times, leaving in anger only to go back on it later. This time I was calm, I told him I would miss him and to take care of himself. We said a lot in the short time between him waking and my leaving.
He lived on the other side of London so I had a three hour journey ahead, way too much time to think. Upon arrival at Fenchurch Street and seeing that I had nearly an hour to kill I sat on the benches and the tears came. I had a suitcase and two bin liners full of my stuff; I’d been half living at his, half at mums for 18 months, now I felt utterly homeless and helpless.
(Mummy-single – not that I was homeless of course as you showed me by welcoming me back with open arms saying it had always been my home)
Now I should say at this point that I love London, its home to me but the people who walk around it with big umbrellas and an inflated ego thinking that the pavement is theirs are complete wankers.
Nothing has ever affirmed this more to me than walking through London that day. I was struggling to carry everything and clearly upset, people just shunted me out of the way, only confirming what I felt that day; I was nothing to no one.
So there I sat on the bench when a man came out of the pub (a dingy little place located in the station) and asked if I was ok. I nodded but clearly wasn’t and without a word he picked up the bin liners and carried them inside. With an hour to kill somewhere dry and warm was a very welcome sight.
He bought me a coke and sat me down on a sofa, I didn’t tell him much about what had happened, he didn’t have all day and I couldn’t have even if I tried. I did learn that he worked at one of the major insurers and from what I gathered he was a broker.
I should say now, to avoid disappointment, that this is not a prince charming tale.
I ran into him a few months later by chance, upon returning from a date. I was far less fragile than when I had last seen him. Not totally fixed but healing up nicely. He was out with some friends and was no longer the sweet caring gent I had met, he was in broker mode.
One thing to understand is that this group of brokers all have a competitive streak. It doesn’t matter what it is but they have to be winning, like Charlie Sheen. So having a twenty something on his arm (so to speak) in front of his friends leads my broker to start showing off. I’ve dealt with men like this all my professional life so I know how to deal with them.
Making it very obvious that I was not there for anything more than banter, I gave as good as I got and took my broker down a peg or two in a humorous light-hearted way way. The more I bantered along, the harder he tried to act like Charlie Big Bollocks (as my dad would say). So I was accepted into their group as the occasional tag along.
Fast forward to last week and after being well and truly pissed off by someone I decided to see if the city wide boy was around for a beverage. He was of course available, he is handy like that.
So we went out, drank too much and he finally asked me what had happened that day. So I told him, as briefly as I could, about the relationship. I asked about his current situation which sounds complicated and unhappy.
Away from the other city boys he was back to his lovely self. Now I don’t find this man attractive, he is not single in any event so it’s nothing at all like that. I just genuinely enjoy his company (with or without the broker act it’s always fun)
But seeing him again without the banter of the other lads made me melancholy, and raking over the past didn’t help. We said our goodbyes and I promised to let him know when I could be free on a Friday to go out with the lads properly (Brokers finish at about midday on a Friday I don’t have that luxury so they are always shit faced when I get there)
It was on the way home that I did something stupid, something which might seem insignificant to you dear reader. I had been talking about my ex a lot that evening and it stuck me that despite all the time that’s past, despite the fact that I would never go back now, I miss my ex.
I miss his company, I miss the amount we had in common, and I miss his friendship essentially. So I did what any irrational and drunk woman would do…I sent him a text….
Until next time…
Love
SG
X
No comments:
Post a Comment