03/11/2010

It’s 3:40 pm, I turn over in my duvet-heavy bed and sluggishly glance towards the door of my room. BB is standing there. Am I dreaming? I ask myself and try to sit up. No I’m not. Oh dear God. Panic. That is BB standing at the door.

Then it hits me. What???? No, no, no, no!  This man did not just ambush me in my place? I did not remember any talk of  meeting him today. He’s appeared unannounced, to find me at my most undignified. A stinking room, dirty bowl and spoon with dried weetabix bits on them,  on the bed beside my head, a packet of sainsbury’s basics sultanas next to it,  bits of used tissue and dirty clothes all over the floor and my menses stained knickers hanging at the corner of my bed. I’m ashamed. I want to die. Oh the humiliation! It’s unbearable. I want to get up but I’m incapacitated with self loathing.

“Hello, I wasn’t expecting you, how did you get in?”

“The woman opened the  door for me”

“Oh, eerrm…I was reading then I fell asleep”

“I can see that, is it warm in there? I’ll join you”

No, please no. You wouldn’t like the smell in here. At this point I’m thinking…hide the dirty stuff on display…hide that bit of the second duvet that’s worn out…do something…save yourself from this shame. But I can’t. He’s already removed his clothes and has jumped next to me. Feelings of rage start to creep up within me. He has no right! He can’t just turn up. He has no right to turn up like this and make me feel less of a human being due to the conditions I live in. In times like these I want to be alone. I don’t want anyone to see the crazy state I’m in. When I’m alone, I don’t have to pretend. I can wallow in my depression and continue fighting a loosing battle with my insomnia whilst indulging and entertaining my glorious disturbed sleep patterns. Then he comes in like this. This is not a part of me I want him to see. Then I calm down – it’s not my fault after all, I didn’t ask him to turn up impromptu.

Up until now he had only been to my place once – after I had done a massive clear out and cleaned the place up and now. And of course after apologising profusely for the state of it – most of which wasn’t my poor self’s fault – the stained and discoloured roof for starters. Ugh. On that occasion it went well though. He didn’t seem to mind and even helped me take out some rubbish that The Witch thought convenient to tell me off about in front of him. But this was different.

One hour after he got naked, I put my hand over his torso  and a few minutes later I hear:

“We should stop doing this”

“What?”

“Having sex”

Oh dear me. This is it.

“I don’t spend quality time with you”

So why the hell did you fucking come over today? How about you should have told me this via earlier and not turned up. Or how about you should have turned up and NOT got naked, but just you know…tell me this and then go?

I remain silent. I play with his hair a little, he tells me to stop then gets up to dress. He notices the sultanas and makes a comment about how good sultanas are. All I can think of is that they are just sainsbury’s basics. Cheap. I’m a total and massive contrast to his comfortable middle class existence. No wonder he wants out? He also mentions something about how warm my bed is. Do I like to keep warm he asks? I pull a duvet over me as he says:

“We should stop because it’s not fair to you. I don’t make enough time for you”

He leans over to kiss me. Tears start forming. God please no, I can’t start crying now. Not for this man. Please.

“But you are funny, you don’t care”

I do. I fucking care. I fucking care so much. I fucking care so much that I’ve had to suppress my tears. He said I didn’t care because two weeks ago, while apologising for yet another flying visit I told him it doesn’t matter when he sees me. It was his life I said and I will not force him to see him. It’s not like I was married to him or was his girlfriend, I continued, matter of factly. I didn’t mean that. I was hurting and angry…and needy so I just said this to appear ‘cool with it’. He remembered it.

“It’s not that I don’t care”, I smiled faintly and swallowed a huge lump in my throat. He stood up to put on his jumper and said that it wasn’t fair that he couldn’t see me enough but would make sure to find sometime for us to do something ‘more’. So what is it? Is that it or do I have to wait and see if he has found the time to do ‘more’ things together?

He blew me a kiss and left. I lay in bed  thinking of that scene in Bille August’s The House of the Spirits, where Esteban visits a prostitute and asks her  to be tender with him and pretend to care for him, just for that day. Substitute  the prostitute with BB.

I wish I’d never met him.

**An hour letter I check my emails and see one from him, sent at 2:32 pm, without a body, titled ‘Hello are yyou home at 3.30pm?’ I wasn’t online so I couldn’t reply, but why would he just turn up? If you don’t get a reply you wait for one!

29/10/2010

I live with a bunch of loonies – well some of them. Let me first eliminate the non-loonies:

A meat loving Brazilian couple who judged by their frequent mirth filled weekend evenings with visiting fellow countrymen seem to be a very fun-loving couple on restrain mode . Restrained because in this  shared flat, they can’t always do what they want, and they too definitely – I can tell – consider some of the housemates loopy. The girl’s english is not well, as she told me. She’s probably 1.99% fluent.

Now to loony number one. She’s a witch. Honestly, even this petty girl does not compare to her. Why am I even comparing? This witch is, in the literal sense, an old witch! I can’t tell but I’m guessing  she’ll  soon  be welcoming her 60s. A fact that continues to puzzle me day on end. What is she doing here? Doesn’t she have a family? There was talk of a daughter and a son a while ago  but I didn’t get the details because at that point I had decided to switch off whenever we found each other in the kitchen or any other communal area. I never even say hello sometimes. It may sound harsh but her behaviour towards me has been very weird. I moved in and she  seemed so friendly, showing me around and telling me I was free to use her stuff in the kitchen as long as I cleaned everything afterwards.  I do this for about a week, next thing I know, she’s marching in the kitchen at every opportune moment muttering about ‘there’s somebody ‘ere stealing my things’ or ‘using my things without my permission’ at which moment I point that I don’t know who said culprit is and I’m only using the things she let me use. My statement is then followed by a blank silence before either one of use walks back to their room. That bothered me but I reckoned at her age, her head was just doing things so I didn’t think any think of it. You can imagine how pissed I was when she started accusing me of pilfering her food, and her other kitchen paraphernalia. I fumed and told  her where to put her stuff.

I mean, for the love of Jesus, just toddle off! I literally starve these days, just about surviving on baked beans and frozen rice and then she comes at me with this stupidity. Fucking ridiculous. At this point I’ve got nothing to lose and I really can not tolerate bollocks because I’m just thinking about survival.

Once I stopped acknowledging her, she grasped a hint but alas, this hasn’t curbed her crazy. She still hovers around the house complaining about anything and everything to anyone who’ll tolerate her waffle. And she’s always going on about the cleaning, which, since I moved here , I’ve never seen her lift a finger to do!

Then there is the two Italian sisters with their penchant for taking up the whole  kitchen space preparing their meals. Oh, and their track suit wearing mother who’s been ‘visiting’ them since last month. Don’t get me wrong, but you don’t visit your daughters for a whole month knowing fully well they live in a cramped, and shared space. I mentioned this in an email to The Italian on the first week I moved in and he was quick to assure me that “we don’t behave like that in Italy bella. We are very considerate people”.  They are also very loud. On a given day, if they feel like it, they would start at around 7 am in the morning…up and down the stairs, shouting, talking, shouting, talking, munching, blocking up the kitchen space, more talking and munching. One of the sisters is of the passive aggressive stock; just like this annoying female, she leaves notes all over the house for people to read. I mean, what happened to talking to people about things in the house? She doesn’t seem to have a problem making noise for everyone the rest of the time!

Needless to say, I feel harassed when I’m somewhere in the house, in the company of this lot.

24/09/2010

A friend mine – probably the only one I made during my time at uni – called me all the way from her holiday in the Mediterranean to tell me how happy she was when she received her degree certificate last week. It made her feel like she had accomplished the most important thing in her life, she said. Did I feel that excitement of having accomplished something? Like really accomplished something? Yes, I told her. It’s a great feeling.

Of course I lied. There was no euphoric mood from me at any time last week because I did not receive my degree certificate. I owe the university £1500, and I won’t be getting that precious paper until I pay up. The phone call made me think, if only briefly, of  my dad. I really needed him to help me with this payment but he let me down. He  prefered instead to spend his summer days at home doing nothing. Let’s just say that this added to the amount of resentment that I already have for him. I don’t like to dwell on it much anyway, and thankfully, the university sent me a transcript so that will do for the time being,  incase  I need to show any proof of my grades. The plan is to pay in installments and be done by the end of December.

Fingers crossed.

11/09/2010

I thought I had stuck a fork in it with BB, only for him to track me down. He’s of the numerous e-mail addresses. Turns out he’s separated *shuddering*. I’m not sure I can deal with all that baggage, what with my own heap to deal with. His baby though, is really beautiful. Definitely inherited his father’s mysterious green eyes and has the sweetest little smile in the world 🙂

With this sudden turn of events, I’m now left wondering,  ‘what exactly does he want from me?’ Sex? A short-term thing (sex and more but only for the short-term?) I don’t half understand the bloke. He tells me a lot about his life now and we seem to meet more often than before. I still like to think it’s just a physical thing mainly because I’m not in the position to start caring about a man with a baby. I’m simply not capable of that. It’s too much to deal with. He, however, knows that he can get what he wants from me. He’s better than me in most things. Better life, better job, status, nice car, more experience. He knows this and is using it to get want he wants. The saddest part is that I’m letting him do this to me because I feel at this point in my life, no sane man would want to be with me. It makes me want to cry just thinking of it that way.

01/08/2010

A few days after this, I woke up one morning very livid. The last person I spoke to the previous night was Fish and he had somehow approached a very significant landmark with me so I decided I was going to put an end to the bullshit. I was going  to do some investigation on BB. Alas, I didn’t so much as start when I got not only one but three emails from him. Wasn’t he supposed to be with his dad in Wales? Feeling even more perplexed I opened them. One was an automated email to connect with him on messenger. Not going to happen! The second one was him asking how I was doing and that he was hoping we would see each other soon, the third one was specific, asking me on the exact days I was going to be free to meet him. Oh, so he was calling the shots now? OK, from the beginning I let him call the shots – afterall he found me – but on this particular day something had already snapped and I wanted to show him that he couldn’t just get his way when he wanted, so I sent a reply after two days. I said I was available but didn’t give a specific time. He sent a reply a day later apologising for the late response (after one day? was he desperate for a quick shag?) and he  mentioned two days that he was free, about a week from the days I said I was available. Again, I let it sit while I pondered on the next step to take. Two hours later he sent another email saying he was in fact available for ‘a little bit’ the next day. Growing increasingly pissed off, I just let this one sit as well. Two days later I replied to the emails saying the only time I would be available would be during  the weekend. I did this just to see what he would say because it seemed weird that the only time he wanted to meet me was during the week. He hasn’t replied yet. It’s been four days. I was curious on how he was going to reply, now I’m not. In fact I blocked his address because I ended up doing some investigation afterall. On the old Facebook. I don’t have an account there but God bless Mark Zuckerberg and his privacy laws because it’s all there. I now know where he lives and he is indeed married. I just needed to confirm that and then end it. I’m done.

On to the conversation I had with Fish:

“So, how’s the part-time job going?” he inquired over the phone. I had just had a hot shower and the plan was to go to bed very early. He called just as I was about to pull the covers over.

“Mmmmh…OK. It’s only two days. I’m not really happy with it.”

“It doesn’t matter. You have to start somewhere,” he assured me.

“Yeah…”

A moment of silence passed before I heard…

“You know it’s been seven months now , and I know we have the distance issue to consider but I really want to be with you.”

What? I had to get out of bed. Surely he didn’t say that.

“Wha…what do you mean?” I whispered helplessly. So many things were going through my head.

“It would really make me happy if you were my girlfriend, and I don’t care about the problems you have. We can deal with them, don’t you think? I want to be there for you.”

“You have been.”

“No, I mean in a different way. More than I am now. What do you say”

“I don’t know,” I heard myself reply.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” I heard a slight change in his voice. Was that the tone of disappointment? I gripped the phone to my ear more tightly because my hand had started shaking. Here I was on the phone to this man who I’ve wanted so much that I cried myself to sleep. I dreamt about him. His voice, his face, everything about him made my heart sing and now he tells me that I have the chance to be his, to get exactly what I wanted and ‘I don’t know?’. Why don’t I know? What don’t I know?  Sure enough I wasn’t expecting this. In fact, it had been  a while since I had any hope of something like this happening. Just the other week, I was going to cross him off my list and accept that all he was ever going to be was a friend. But no, he had other plans.

“What don’t you know?” he continued.

“I just…don’t know”

“OK. It doesn’t matter. I’ll wait for you to know. When you are ready I’ll be here because I’m not changing my mind.”

I didn’t know what  say. He continued,

“Oh, and I’m still coming to visit **ET so I think we’ll talk more then,” he finished. A few minutes later I went to bed and woke up with the murderous urge to get rid of BB and his bullshit.

* * : Fish’s best friend. The one who introduced me to him. He is in UK  now and Fish is planning to visit him sometime this year.