Test and spite

Today I was faced with a test of my resolve. I was presented with an opportunity to do nothing, which would have been the correct and strong option, or to do something, which was the wrong and weak option. I did something. I failed.

I was furious. I wanted to send Arnie back in time to kill my mum before I was born, such was my shame. Out of anger at my own weakness, I texted the girl from across the park and told her that I didn't want to see her again. Out of anger, and out of spite. I didn't feel better for long. But I did feel better.

By not paying her.

Odd day. I felt on a massive downer for most of it, and I’m not sure why. Hormones maybe? Do men get moods based on hormones? Probably. I met Tracy for lunch, and was a bit quiet. She mentioned it, and I said that nothing was wrong. Nothing was, really, nothing specific anyway. Nothing I could put my finger on.

In the afternoon, I checked out Ben’s wedding website. I’ve not been invited. Until now, I’d thought that was because the wedding was a long way off. Turns out I was wrong, it’s in four weeks. Guess I’m not on the list. So it goes. Lewis called as I was trying to find a present for Emma. He told me not to worry about the wedding invite. I wasn’t worried, just surprised. We talked about how strange it is that Ben’s getting married in the church that held my friend Sam’s funeral back in 2000. It’s a beautiful place.



I wasn’t looking forward to birthday drinks at Emma’s, mostly because of my foul mood. A quick solo pint loosened me up, I hoped, and I trudged around the corner. Misty made me laugh. He’s such a decent bloke. Lorraine, back from Australia, barely said a word to me all evening. I wasn’t asking her many questions either. So it goes.

I felt a bit teary in the cab. Hormones? Yes, I think so.

The answer to the question is: "A little better."

I met Woody for a beer in the Woodstock, his new place of work. They were robbed after the Bank Holiday, he told me. Four massive guys with an angle grinder went to work on the safe. Shit. It’s set back from the main road, sure, but its only 400m from a police station. That takes some stones. And how was he coping with the move from a high-pressure target-based call-centre team-leader to slow, afternoon, bar work, sweeping the occasional patio? Pretty well, it seemed. Early doors though, not being stressed takes a bit of time to get used to.

The British Lions romped through the Golden Lions, scoring ten tries to their opponents’ two. Satisfied with their performance, I went to Milner’s for Thai food. Amazing, very peanut-centred! Cally and Ali were there too. Cally’s joining the police. I was dumbstruck. We put on the telly.

After successfully avoiding all that bollucks with Susan Boyle whilst it was going on, I saw her singing for the first time. I was touched, though not for the sappy reasons that many others were touched – my first ever girlfriend put the song I Dreamed A Dream on the tape that she made for me when I went away to University and broke both our hearts. It all came back to me.

“Have I got any better at managing my exes since then?” I wondered in the taxi home. They were playing Nelly and Kelly’s Dilemma. I hate that piece of shit song.

Sunday Blues

At about 9pm, something happened that hasn’t happened for a while. A bout of the Sunday blues. Mild, but there nonetheless. Not so much the dread of having to go back to work tomorrow, but a mild downer at the thought. And another thing - I miss Paul. The stubbornness in me faded, and I wished he was there. *sigh*