Oh. (Dumped)

Oh.

Still no news from LEA. No text. No message. I hate myself for doing so, but I check her Facebook. She is definitely back, its full of loads of shit updates. Whats going on?

I email her at lunchtime, ‘Hey! Are you back?’

She replies, ‘Yeah’

Nothing else. One word. Not even a full stop.

Oh.

This is not good.

I don’t reply.

The afternoon passes.

I walk home, and decide to go up round the Hoe. I pass a bench looking out over the sea and sit down to think. I look to my right and see another bench. I suddenly get a memory. That bench, this location, has some history. It’s the bench I sat on about 9 years ago, under what feels like similar circumstances, when I had just split with my Uni girlfriend. At this moment (well, lets not lie, about 1 minute after id set off again) I get the text.

'Blah blah blah are you free for a chat blah blah blah blah I'm finding more than friends weird and holiday made me realise that. Don’t want to loose you as a friend thou blah blah blah blah'

Oh.

So that’s it.

My mind whirrs. I'm gutted, but it’s some sort of relief to know at least. My brain kicks out these thoughts, in this order, over the next 5 minutes:

1. Does that mean she’s shacked up with some cunt on her holiday?
2. What am I going to do with the tickets I bought for us to go and see Tim Minchin on Sunday?
3. I cringe at the thought of sending her a FaceBook message while she was on holiday saying that I missed her loads.
4. What / How has (this) gone wrong in such a short space of time?
5. I don’t think I want to be friends with her. Ive seen a different side and cant go back.

I get home. I decide to run away from the problem. I run for 2 hours. I did 1¾ hours yesterday, so I’ve just set a new record for the most running I’ve ever done in 2 days – about 30 miles.

I feel more angry than distraught.

But I still cry a little bit.

My thoughts sway between two schools. The ageing 3-belt champion idea is to call her up and launch into her; tell her she shouldn’t be so fickle, shouldn’t fuck about with peoples feelings, and should have told me before she went on holiday. But this is not me. The undefeated young challenger idea is to try and rise above it – we were good friends once - we've got lots of mutual friends. Maybe, probably, in a week or two ill be grateful for doing so if I bite my lip now. I decide to not reply and let things set in for a day or two.

Then I get home and change my mind. I think I should send her a text or else she might call me and I don’t really want to speak to her. At first I write:

‘WTF?! Youre so weird. You shouldnt fuck about with peoples feelings’

But during typing it the predictive text only found ‘duck’ instead of ‘fuck’ and as I was trying to solve it the screen suddenly said ‘Sending Message.’

Panic!

I press every button on the phone 34 times in one second and thank fuck it cancelled the sending. Phew. I’m not sure what LEA would have made of ‘you shouldn’t duck’ Maybe she would have taken it as a threat – ‘don’t you fucking duck bitch when I shoot at you!’ - Or maybe not. I think back to when I finished with the Twin and got a blank text through; I guess she wasn’t quite so lucky with the cancelling.

Having read the text back it sounded a bit jovial, a bit matter of fact. I want her to know she has hurt, but I don’t want to write an essay. I change it to;

‘Oh. Understood. I am gutted. You shouldnt be so fickle with peoples hearts’

No Reply.

Good.

Now I'm in my room listening to Damien Rice and Arcade Fire, typing this. I made some freezer bolognaise but cant eat it. I try to phone my mum (she doesn’t know about LEA) as it would be nice to have a chat about nothing in particular, but she is engaged for three tries.

Oh.

Without wanting to sound too fickle myself, I’m looking forward to ‘Amazon’ tonight more than ever. Ive heard that they go to Manaus in one episode, the city I stayed in for 6 weeks last year.

I hope AnnE and DPsyc are not downstairs as Ill have to tell them and it will be rubbish.

Dumped.

Oh.

Carrie from Christmas Eve

Prologue: At the 1996 6th form party Carrie comes and sits on my lap, we talk and I’m reasonably sure I was too drunk to lay down any tangible memory of what unfolded next. This was back in the day when a party snog came more readily than a serious conversation - a trend which has been depressingly reversed in more recent times.

Christmas Eves:

Carrie is one of those people I only ever see on Christmas Eve. She’s there down the local in amongst the frequent knowing nods and occasional awkward conversation that the Christmas cheer - or maybe just the Stella - seems to make slightly more enjoyable than difficult. I’m not sure exactly when we were Christmas Eve reunited after the teenage encounter, but know for certain that ive spoken to her exclusively on Christmas eves for the past 5 years, and possibly a couple more previous to that. Given this fact, I think our relationship is going well. We’ve progressed through the, ‘Hey hows it going’ ...If you asked me now I’m not sure I really know who you are... of the awkward first conversation, through the years of familiar smiles and, ‘Oh Hiya – I only ever really see you on Christmas Eve!’ On to the, ‘See you next year’ and, a year later, ‘Oh Hi, hows it going?’

I've learnt she’s a dentist, and now seems to work for a few months and then goes travelling for the rest of the year. She does both surfing and snowboarding is virtually always the coolest person I meet up the pub on Christmas Eve. In short; I fancy her, but only once a year.

In the last two years we’ve gone on to another pub after the first one like we’ve known each other for years (we have, in a way) and most significantly this year (at least in my head), we did this alone.

I can’t say for her, of course, but in my head at least it was a case of get into another pub, have a beer or two and get a Christmas kiss in. The trouble was this year we couldn’t find a bastard pub that would let us in. After four pub refusals for a variety of not very Christmassy reasons, we made it to the Golden Lion where her brother was inside enjoying a lock in. The doorman was not in the slightest bit interested in a bit of Christmas banter and our available two options both seemed to involve fucking right off. Carrie was staying at her brothers in Downend – quite a hike away – so I found it strange that her brother was more worried about loosing his place in the lock in than helping his sister out. On any other night I would have offered her to stay at my parents and I could have given her a lift in the morning, but this was, after all Christmas Eve, so it didn’t really seem like an option. I couldn’t read whether Carrie wanted me to walk her home (I would have gladly) or wait with her until the pub chucked out, or just snog her face off in the car park*. After probably not enough thought I stood up to the doorman and told him he should let Carrie in as she was a girl on her own and needed to be safe inside with her brother. He agreed to this, which left me just a few seconds - with her brother and the doorman both staring me down - to make my move. Obviously I bailed, and just went for the kiss on the cheek, the ‘Happy Christmas’ and the hug (trying to leave it that micro second longer than I would of if I didn’t care).

Ten seconds later and I’m walking away with no phone number, no email or Facebook-stalking** details (I don’t even know her surname) and 364 days to think about what could have been.

* Two points-
1. This was more like my dream than a realistic option, but hey, this is my Blog.
2. Yes, I just said ‘snog her face off.’

** I don’t like the word stalk, but it is stalking; and don’t pretend you don’t do it. It may as well be called Stalkbook