Sunday, 13 November 2011
Copious amounts of wine, cheeky chinwagging, and the return of Mr HOTD...
(Warning: This post will probably make minimal sense to you if you haven't read this!)
After a hideously stressful/ridiculously emotional few days, I headed out last night for a well deserved rendezvous with three of my favourite girlies. Our plan was to celebrate Annie's recovery, drink far too much wine, and chill the devil out. As you can imagine, it was such a relief to be able to leave the house sporting a slightly more attractive look than the dishevelled panda that had graced the mirror for the previous twenty four hours.
We'd spent most of the evening in hysterics, devoured a bowl of delicious chips, designed lingerie on napkins, and contemplated how attractive we found the barman on a scale of one to phwoooooaar. There's nothing quite like a good old fashioned girly night!
When it got to about 10pm, we decided to move to a different bar, and drink a different bottle of wine. (At this point, I'd like to clarify that we were already two bottles down, and had decided in our fairly merry state that a third was most definitely necessary). As we made a toast to something along the lines of 'to lots of wine and cheeky chinwagging', I noticed a familiar looking guy looking over in my direction from across the room. He was wearing a stripy top, and believe it or not, it was that that confirmed my suspicions, before I got a clearer view of his face. After almost a year of not seeing him, there he was, within 20ft of me, looking in my direction, in the same bar. It was Mr HOTD. Uh-oh.
Surprisingly, I didn't react in the way I thought I would when I finally saw him again. I'd half expected that my stomach would do a triple backflip, my heart would pound, and I'd end up doing something stupid like bursting into movie-style tears, or confessing my undying love for him. Evidently though, something had changed. I didn't actually feel much at all, except for the need to down my glass of wine in four seconds flat. (I'll blame this on the anxiety of seeing him again.)
While I was desperately hoping I'd get a chance to speak to him, there was no way at all that I was going to make the first move. After all, I'd tried to contact him once or twice after he completely disappeared off of the face of the earth last year, and had heard absolutely nothing from him. Like I'd said to the girls, me going up to him would pretty much say 'I'm a f*cking carpet, and I forgive you', and I really didn't want to give him that satisfaction. If he had anything to say to me, all he'd have to do was saunter in my direction.
We didn't talk for the first few hours. I went about my night, which consisted of more wine, more hysterics, and trying desperately to avoid eye contact with Mr HOTD, and he went about his, which consisted of various pints with his wingman, man chats, and desperate attempts to get my eye contact. Every time I made a dash for the ladies, or complimented a random 50 year old woman on how flipping brilliant she looked (good deed of the day, check), I could feel him watching me, like a hawk.
Eventually, when two of the girls decided to go and have a few cheeky shots in another bar, and the third went out for a cigarette, I found myself alone at the bar, and suddenly, there he was, right next to me. Despite the fact I'd accepted that he was here, it was still quite hard to believe that the master of disappearing acts was actually standing within a five centimetre radius of me. I could easily have gotten him confused with someone else in my ever-so-slightly-frazzled state, however looking down at the 'Carpe Diem' tattoo etched across his forearm, it couldn't have been anyone else.
We said hello and hugged, and it was horrifically awkward. Thirty seconds later however, I realised that I'd been waiting a bloody long time to have this conversation, and that I should probably make the most of him while he'd taken some time out of his day to actually acknowledge my existence.
We had a civil catch up, and filled each other in on what we'd been up to. He asked how I'd been, I said I'd been brilliant. He said I looked lovely, I said that he looked awful (think excessive alcohol, too many cigarettes, and not enough early nights.) He asked if I wanted a drink, I politely declined. He started reminiscing about old times, and I almost let myself smile and join in. Then I asked him how his fiance was.
He said that things weren't good. They're living together now, but he said he's desperately unhappy, as she treats him like a piece of sh*t. In fact, he rambled on for about eight minutes about how awful she is to him, and how I'll never understand what she puts him through.
It was at this moment, that I started to realise that I probably shouldn't have been quite so defensive of him in my previous post. Fair enough, she might have her moments (who doesn't?!), but let's be honest, he's no Saint Peter himself. While I absolutely have no regrets, and loved every second that I spent with him, neither myself, nor his doting, still completely oblivious girlfriend (now fiance) deserved any of what happened last year. He cheated on a girl that thinks the world of him, lied profusely to me, broke my heart mega style, and could easily have broken hers too, had she of course found out.
I reminded him of this, and he played the 'you don't understand' card. I then asked him why on earth he'd thought it was a wise move to propose to her when he quite evidently had never loved her in the way that she deserved. He said they'd had a good day and it just felt right. I laughed at his pathetic reasoning, and told him that some things never change, as he was rather obviously still a Class A idiot.
He talked some more about everything else that was wrong with his life, which ranged from being unemployed, to his family disowning him, to having no friends, to his beer being warm. I wasn't sure whether this was his way of justifying being an awful human being to me, a ploy to prevent me from yelling/throwing my shoe at him, or just the words of a desperately unhappy man. I'm going to assume that it was a bit of all three, as it must have been so hard for him to say all of those things, to me of all people, I didn't yell/throw my shoe at him, and he really didn't seem like the same guy I'd contemplated the universe and laughed about life with a year and a half previously.
It half upset me to see him so miserable, and half made my blood boil. Him or not, people that settle for unhappiness and live in self pity, really rattle my cage. I don't expect every single human being to be filled with joy and optimism for every second of their lives. Life isn't after all, a bed of roses all of the time. However, I do firmly believe that ruin is the road to transformation, and I do think that unhappiness should be the biggest incentive for change. Mr HOTD insisted that his life was sh*t and there was nothing he could do about it. In his eyes, his family would never take him back, he's not qualified to do anything, he's got no friends, and he's staying with a girl he doesn't love simply so that he's not alone. I suggested a heartfelt apology, college/an apprenticeship (my job definitely has its uses), manning up, and realising that he was in fact in this very bar, with a friend.
At this point, I was pretty frustrated. I gave him a cuddle (I know he didn't deserve my affection, or my tatty-bo-jangles pressed against his chest, but he was practically in tears), and I told him that the thing that annoyed me the most about him was the fact that somewhere inside him, is a really, genuinely good person, but for some strange reason he chooses to show the world his not-so-good side, twenty four flipping seven. I told him that he was stupid for saying that no one cares about him, because here I was, still wanting him to be okay, despite the fact that it was all his fault that I'd eaten so many biscuits last year that I'd put on nearly a stone. I told him that I'd probably cared about him more than most people, and he'd thrown it back in my face, so he had absolutely no right to stand in front of me and play the victim. I told him that I had no romantic feelings left for him, and for the first time in my entire life, I meant it. Girls, I have finally realised that Mr HOTD is most definitely not the one, or even the two. Last night has made me realise that I'm over him, and I cannot tell you how brilliant that feels.
Mr HOTD told me that he was incredibly sorry for everything that he did, and that I deserved so much better than him (amen!) He told me to walk away, get on with my girly night, and the rest of my life, be happy, not worry about him, and never look back.
I told him that he was a fool for denying himself the chance for me to be there for him, and made him promise that if ever things got ridiculously unbearable, and he was in need of a massive kick up the backside, that he'd get in touch. I ended it by wishing him all the very best, and thanked him for the good time we'd had together prior to the secret girlfriend and the disappearing act. He told me that I was far too good to him, and he was probably right.
I hugged him one last time, and walked away.