It's not been the best of weeks. I've been trying to sort out what I thought was a dreadful misunderstanding with Cute, feeling utterly wretched and guilty of jumping to wrong conclusions and managing to fuck up what I had hoped was going to be a good relationship.
Yesterday it got worse. I'd decided at last minute to take a few days off. I couldn't keep my mind on the job properly and was in danger of losing patience with anxious clients. I was woken by my cleaner letting herself in - our first face to face meeting was in the Hall, me in a smelly old dressing gown, with the sink and an ashtray overflowing. I hastily scooped up an armful of washing and took it through to my Mum's washing machine, to be met with an estate agent valuing the house. I'm sure they would have got round to telling me at some point, hopefully before the removal van arrived.
I then tried to call Cute to arrange to meet him for a coffee and set things straight. I was told he was busy and would call me back. The phone rang before too long, but it was Jack telling me he was on his way to the hospital for some blood tests. I dashed off to meet him, not overly concerned, it's probably just glands.
I hadn't had any messages whilst I was out, so after mooching about for a while, I logged on to check my emails. I'd sent Cute one late the night before suggesting that some things were too important to leave to email, but rather warranted a personal approach. He disagreed and had very curtly informed me, at 2.45am!!! that email was just fine and dandy.
I've now given him the information he desired, thinking the whole time that I was the one with all the ground to make up. I finally told Mum about my love woes when she got back and it turns out she could have told me all along - a friend of hers had told her what he was like weeks ago and had suggested she warn me in case I got hurt. I didn't know what to believe.
So I jumped in the car and headed South for a night of salsa dancing and mutual obsessing with Pixie Peter. I wasn't the best company, but I was grateful for a sympathetic ear and some food in my belly.
Today? I just feel a bit empty. I'm very disappointed with Cute. I accept I may have made an initial mistake but could not have done more to try and make amends in as humble a way as I know possible. I'm now starting to think - hang on - if he'd been a bit more decent in the first place, this would never have happened. I can't help thinking I've been stealth dumped.
Yesterday it got worse. I'd decided at last minute to take a few days off. I couldn't keep my mind on the job properly and was in danger of losing patience with anxious clients. I was woken by my cleaner letting herself in - our first face to face meeting was in the Hall, me in a smelly old dressing gown, with the sink and an ashtray overflowing. I hastily scooped up an armful of washing and took it through to my Mum's washing machine, to be met with an estate agent valuing the house. I'm sure they would have got round to telling me at some point, hopefully before the removal van arrived.
I then tried to call Cute to arrange to meet him for a coffee and set things straight. I was told he was busy and would call me back. The phone rang before too long, but it was Jack telling me he was on his way to the hospital for some blood tests. I dashed off to meet him, not overly concerned, it's probably just glands.
I hadn't had any messages whilst I was out, so after mooching about for a while, I logged on to check my emails. I'd sent Cute one late the night before suggesting that some things were too important to leave to email, but rather warranted a personal approach. He disagreed and had very curtly informed me, at 2.45am!!! that email was just fine and dandy.
I've now given him the information he desired, thinking the whole time that I was the one with all the ground to make up. I finally told Mum about my love woes when she got back and it turns out she could have told me all along - a friend of hers had told her what he was like weeks ago and had suggested she warn me in case I got hurt. I didn't know what to believe.
So I jumped in the car and headed South for a night of salsa dancing and mutual obsessing with Pixie Peter. I wasn't the best company, but I was grateful for a sympathetic ear and some food in my belly.
Today? I just feel a bit empty. I'm very disappointed with Cute. I accept I may have made an initial mistake but could not have done more to try and make amends in as humble a way as I know possible. I'm now starting to think - hang on - if he'd been a bit more decent in the first place, this would never have happened. I can't help thinking I've been stealth dumped.
posted by Cherrypie at 9:03 pm
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