Monday, 13 April 2009

Today and Country House Filth

What a day!
I feel like I've been kidnapped by aliens and tuned into a space cadet. I’ve slept most of today. Sometimes, I enter these highly charged emotional states which then disappear and I’m left wondering what the fuck just happened. All this is a result of an exchange I had in the car with the ex-boy yesterday, after our night away.

I wouldn’t be at all surprised if I went to a couple of different psychiatrists and they individually declared that I had one of these illness such as manic depression, which I think goes by Bi-polar now...or some other extreme up-and-down kind of manic disorder.
I don’t know – but I certainly have something... and that’s apart from a size 30E bust.
Anyway, I’m feeling OK now... I’m not down, I’m just zonked. Silly me doesn’t do what it says on the packet of over-the-counter-sleeping-pills I stupidly took, late last night. ‘Take one tablet with food’ – god no, one? I took four, like a twit.
'Follow instructions Gee!' I imagined my Dad would have shouted in that situation - except, of course, he'd call me by my fist name.... C****.

To be fair one of these pills doesn’t do anything to me – but four did, and I’ll tell you something else, when my limbs were twitching before I fell asleep, I was in the same dream-like sleep as heroin induces. And me being me, I shouldn’t take that shit – or the sleeping tablets ever again.
Anyway, I’ve just eaten bacon,eggs, and tomatoes with brown toast, made with love by the ex-boyfriend who has now gone back to his place.

OK folks, so as I was saying yesterday... the pair of us strolled very ‘grown up style’ through the cobbled streets of Bath, mooching like a pair of long established love birds, walking in sync, totally care free.
That joyous feeling continued until we were in London driving through the hectic city centre traffic. It was then I decided to casually ask the ex-boy what he was doing that evening ie. last night.

It didn’t enter my head that he’d be doing anything other than going back to his place and watching T.V. like any other person who’s just had a sexy, yet tiring night with a woman - you’d just go home to recuperate, right? Just like I was planning on doing, before I childishly and moodily wen to the jazz bar instead
(retaliation, you see. Silly, I know) So at that point I was staying home, that’s what I was doing. And he shudda been doing the same, no?
Or maybe I’m just fucking old fashioned and dull nowadays. I mean as he pointed out, it is the long weekend... I don’t think of myself as dull at all, so maybe I was just being controlling. Now that, I am.
Anyway, so I asked what his plans were for last night and to my horror he only told me he was going out.
*CUE: Thunder and lightening sounds*

Going out
I tell thee!

We’d had a spectacular evening in serene surroundings and he was with me for crying out loud, and what? He’s telling me now he’s friggin’ ’going out?’
Yep, ‘going out’ boozing no less. Drinking with a couple of people from his work, he tells me.
Why? Not why is he socialising with guys from work, well, yeah, that as well... but Why the heck is he ‘going out’at all?
Was I not enough? Did he need to continue searching for more thrills by getting tanked up with a bunch of Advertising bores?
Well you can imagine what my reaction was... yep, that’s right – silence - my deadliest weapon. POW! take that! ex-boyfriend who ‘goes out’ on a Sunday night after we’ve spent the whole of the previous evening and that very morning devouring each other.

“Go on then young man! Go on! Go out. Go bloody drinking on a Sunday night!” Oh, and not just any Sunday night, nope. On Easter Holy Sunday.
' Aye! I’ll just go home by myself and scratch my ass and stare at the T.V. feeling totally inadequate that I wasn’t enough and immediately after leaving me, who was licking your asshole and licking the handbag-sized-vibrator I inserted into it after I'd inserted it, and me who riding your cock in the heels you love me in, and me who allowed you to finger my ass (and we know my feeling on that) and then what? You go on the fucking lash with some work colleagues??
I mean, they’re not even friends they’re colleagues. And despite the number of hours they may spend together, I’ve met them, they’re unlikely to ever become bosom buddies.
So, anyway, I pulled out a heap of silence from my bag of tricks and laid it on thick. Not that moody ‘Don’t talk to me I’m trying to show you a lesson’ thing. Nope, just a Gee style coldness, which he knew instantly had taken hold. I expose my heart all the time; every one who meets me knows how I’m feeling at anytime.
Silence makes my ex-fella feel uncomfortable - which I suppose is the point. It’s very controlling – but I can be controlling, I've told you that.
But yesterday I mainly dished that particular brand of annoyance ‘cos I have a tendency to go on about stuff, me.
And when I go on, I often initially start by being right, but I end being wrong because I’ve ranted and over stated the original issue.
I need to find a happy medium; which is very difficult for a drama queen like me.

The ex-boyfriend clearly knew there was something wrong – and he knew what that something was, but did he open it up for debate? Did he ‘eck!
Course he didn’t, because ultimately he knew I’d be miffed before he said it and he didn't want any grief. I found out later when he rolled up at my place passed 2AM, that he had understood exactly why I’d be cheesed off and that he'd felt weird about going out after our lovely night together. So why do it then? Why go out? Well, the lad wanted to... what the hell can I say to that, eh?
Nada. So why not chat with me about it in the car then? Cos he didn’t want to face it. And as for me and my quietness - I was simply trying a new technique. Not banging on about every tiny thing that pisses me off and turning it into a major drama. I managed the first part, but the latter I didn’t. That’s why I'm ranting about it here, now.
You see the problem with me keeping it to myself, so not to cause instant conflict is - eventually it will come out. I can’t seem to be able to let go of something until it’s been discussed. I hate that aspect of me. It’s really annoying cos actually I understand the reasoning behind things he does which rile me – but instead of just letting go, I can’t. It’s madness and can you imagine how draining that is on whomever I’m with?
I mean, the poor boy is moving jobs soon and wants to cultivate a couple of friendships so when he moves to his new work place he’s not snidely calling people up to hang out with that he had little to do with outside of work previous to him leaving. I do get that. All my ex-boy’s friends are in the north. He’s only been in London 18months. But the thing is, even though I understood the reason why he chose to go out immediately after our night of sordid passion, I still felt inadequate and worthless. Why? Just because my ex-boyfriend wanted to go for drinks which had been suggested over a week prior to our Bath excursion.
Ridiculous right? I reckon there was a huge part of it was that I was jealous. Sometimes, I want to go out for drinks; alcoholic drinks. I want to go out and not be conscious about time, or behaviour and be able to go with the flow. I want to talk shit and get pissed and have the edges of reality rounded. My problem is unfortunately, my edges don’t get rounded - they get buffed right down til there’s little or nothing left. Until the last person leaves the party and the drugs have gone.
Some times I really want to drink. I really do. It can be really annoying on occasions that I don’t. I wonder how my life with the ex-boyfriend would have been if I did drink alcohol.... It’s not even worth going there. He’d hate me in an instant, he’s never done drugs and he just wouldn’t get me, or like me for that matter. And if I drink – then coke must follow. And if I do coke, I would eventually have sex for money to pay for it. It’s what I know. It’s how I’ve done it before and how I’d do it again in the future if I relapsed. And based on that, I think it’s better for me to stay put and let the people that can do it, do it.
A therapist once said to me ’You cannot handle drugs.’ I was bewildered at what she meant. 'Can't handle drugs? can't handle drugs? what the helll !!?' My sick pride made me think of a line from the film Withnail and I – “ I can take double anything you can!”
But she was right. Despite the quantities I ingested, the bare bones of the matter was that I couldn’t handle drugs or alcohol. If I could, believe me I'd be doing them now. Both chemicals change me and I become completely selfish, single minded and literally everything else in life comes second place. Nothing tops my obsession with drugs and alcohol after one line, or one drink...

So. Mi agimas/os, on that cheery note - I think I’m going to pop down to the shops and get me some diet coke and watch Hell’s Kitchen., That Marco Pierre White is a bit handsome, eh?!

By the way: when the ex-boyfriend came over last night we made peace after the anger had continued bubbling throughout the evening, because I hadn’t quelled it by talking it through. When we talked I cried and wailed ‘I don’t like you staying out til late, like this. I don’t want you to do it again’ – fuck! I’m neither his girlfriend or his mum. But I am emotionally high maintenance, in case you hadn't realised that by now.
Please someone give me the name of a good shrink – I need to get a diagnosis fast!

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