Part 10-where i try to be a slut but am really a comfortable old blanket...

Thank goodness today is Friday! It's been the longest week EVER! I really wish I'd had the guts to tell the girls in my office that I am NOT going to Pamela's stupid bloody hen-night earlier in the week, because then perhaps they would have sent me to coventry and I could have saved myself the torture of having to endure an entire week listening to their plans for tomorrow night! As it is I have somehow managed to get myself roped into helping out with costumes for the night! I live closest to the fancy dress shop you see, and have been elected the one who should collect the 20 pairs of pink bunny ears, 1 pair of red ones, 21 cute bunny tails and assorted other hen party novelties. Oh, and I've also been told to stop off at the grocery store on the way and buy a large bunch of carrots-green bits to remain! Go figure...

Why am I so bloody weak?

I am in an indescribably foul mood! You can probably tell.

Actually, my mood isn't really because of Pamela and her stupid hen night..., although it isn't helping. I met up with Mark last night...

It had been on my mind all day-his voice-mail and why he might want to speak to me.
Did he just want to talk about the house again, or was there something more? Had he realised he'd made a huge mistake? Did he want me back? I tried but I just couldn't stop hope from rearing it's ugly head.

I knew I had to ring him. So I did.

I kept it as casual as I could, light and breezy, just being polite and returning his call. I even did it during my lunch hour so that he might think I was going to be busy after work, or that I had only just checked my messages. I wanted it to appear as if I hadn't lain awake all night replaying his message in my mind over and over, clinging onto every syllable of every word as if it might save my life someday.

Plus, I wanted to get him when he was alone, or at least not near HER. I hated to think that SHE might be loitering around him, distracting him from what I was saying, making signals to him to wind-up the call and get rid of me quickly. I wanted him all to myself...in more ways than one.

He sounded pleased that I'd called him back...relief! This was a good sign surely?
We arranged to meet in a bar in town after work. He said he wanted to talk to me properly, no bickering, just two adults behaving sensibly, being responsible. Well, I suppose there is always a first time...

Don't ask me why but it sounded like a come-on.

After hanging up I deserted my dreary turkey salad bap and dashed onto the high street to buy a new outfit! A girl had to look her best when meeting her ex-didn't she?
Remembering Naughty Nigel and his comments the other day, I opted for a low-cut top and shorter-than-I would-normally-go-for skirt. Not quite slutty, but certainly 'looser' than Mark would expect of me. I had gotten quite 'comfortable' in how I dressed of late. This may be my only chance to remind him of who he had fallen in love with all those years ago. I may have gotten lazy over the last couple of years, but I still had 'it'-at least I hoped I had! I had to make him see that.

I forced myself to be a few minutes late for our meeting. I decided to take my own advice for a change. I actually sat in the bar accross the road and watched from the window until I saw Mark arrive. I wanted to make an entrance-for him to have to watch me walk towards him. In this skirt he wouldn't be able to resist! Although, now I come to think of it, he wasn't the most passionate man alive, and he had sure resisted me before...
I pretended to be distracted, talking to someone on my mobile (I actually called Cass for a quick chat so it was a genuine call) and I casually strolled towards where he was already seated. He had bought me a glass of red wine-a merlot. He knew me so well.

Right from the off it was polite but awkward. There I was, sat next to my husband in a bar as we had been thousands of times before, but now we were like two strangers meeting for the first time. Two teenagers on a first date, but apparently without the hope of a snog at the end. No sitting too close, no over-familiar topics of conversation. It went something like this:

'You look well'.

'Thank you. So do you'. Cough.

'How's work'?

'Oh you know, same as ever', pause. 'And you'?

'Oh, boring. Same as ever'.

' I met that friend of your mother's last week. What's her name? Minty something or other...'

You get the idea. It was awful!

'So what are we doing here exactly', I asked eventually, when I could take the polite chit chat no longer.

That's when things went from polite to serious and Mark turned all business-like on me. A first as far as I could remember.

'Ruby' he said, unable to look directly at me as if I was sunlight and he was some kind of vampire or something, 'our marriage is over and we both need to start moving on. I think the best thing would be to sell the house-a clean sweep for us both'.
My heart sank for the third time since he'd announced he was leaving me-did that mean I had drowned?

'And Ruby' the final gasp was yet to come. 'I'm filing for divorce'.

The cool, unaffected act went out the window. I reverted to snivelling beggar woman in an instant.

'Why are you doing this to me'? I pleaded. ' I love you! Please don't do this to me'!
I may have grabbed his sleeve at that point.

He looked around, uncomfortable, obviously not wanting a scene. I was embarrassing him. I immediately remembered that we were in a public place and slowly got a grip of myself-how clever of him to suggest meeting in a bar? But surely all this messy weeping was undoing the good impression I'd hoped to create by dressing like a slut. Not that that had worked either...

Once I'd calmed down I asked him the one question that I needed an answer to:

'Why don't you want to be married to me anymore'?

Needed, but probably wasn't ready for an answer...


'Ruby, what we had was great! I don't regret any of it for a second. But I do regret cheating, I do regret hurting you, you didn't deserve that. It's just that...well I just...I'm not in love with you anymore. We got to a point where we became friends, just friends. Nothing more than that...too comfortable with each other, like a pair of old blankets. And then I met Kate and...well, I didn't mean to...but I couldn't help how I felt! And now, it's just so....It's such a mess! But it's over Rubes. It's over. I really am so very sorry...'

Well, at least he hadn't said, 'It's not you, It's me...'

He looked so ashamed but he'd answered me as honestly as he could and somehow it managed to hit home. I knew him so well that I could tell it was the truth. And it hurt more than when he'd first left, more than knowing he'd cheated on me, more than waking up in our bed alone every day.

I realised finally that it was over, that somehow we'd managed to get too comfortable, to know each other too well and as a result we'd lost everything. How had that happened? How could I blame him? He didn't love me-it was as simple as that. There was nothing I could do but move on and I knew it.

We talked a while longer and though it killed me, I kept my cool. I would look at my finances, have a word with the bank, see if I could afford to buy him out. I wanted to keep the house.

And the divorce? I needed time. I would think about it. I just needed to get my head around it. I suggested we try councelling-perhaps we could save this tattered old (young?) marriage of ours. But he said it was too late for him, he was with Kate now. I bit my lip! Another thing I couldn't get my head around, but I refused to make a show of myself again.

When he left I felt empty. I ordered another drink, but left before it arrived. I wandered around town for nearly an hour, not sure where to go. I dialled Cass but hung up before she could answer.

Then I went home and spent another night awake and in tears.

So now you see why I'm feeling utterly pee-ed off today!

And why I feel like I want to kill Pamela, who has just told me how pleased she is that I'm coming tomorrow night!

'We need you there Ruby, to remind us how great marriage is and to stop me from getting off with the stripper when I'm drunk...'