The talk in the office all week has been of nothing but chocolate willies and slippery nipples! It's driving me mad!
Yes, Pamela's hen night is coming up this weekend and it is currently the hot gossip topic. In a way, I'm glad about that because at least no one has had time to focus on my dishevelled hair and pasty face and put two and two together about Mark yet. On the other hand, all of the girls-Pamela included-presume that I'll be going and to be honest it's the last thing I feel like doing.
I hate hen parties at the very best of times-I hated my own (think tacky vomit-inducing willy straws, disgusting vomit-tasting drinks, butt-ugly naked dancing men...yugh!) -and the idea of spending a night in the company of 19 other giggling women dressed in varying shades of pink, all talking about being in love and getting married (and without a doubt our sex lives will make an appearance too) is my current second vision of hell. The first?....I'm already living it!
But I can't say I won't be there, not yet. If I do they'll heap pressure on me for the rest of the week until I cave in (as I always do) and change my mind.
No, I'm far better off holding my tongue for now, going along with all the plans and suggestions, agreeing to wear bunny ears and a tail and meet up in some tacky bar in town for shots and cocktails. I'll be clever, say I'm definately going, and then pull out at the last minute by text. Fool proof...I hope!
Still nobody has worked anything out in here, although my boss-'Naughty' Nigel -did call me into his office yesterday afternoon for a private chat about my sick days.
'You still look unwell, Ruby', he told me in what could only be described as his 'sympathetic' voice.
We call him 'Naughty' Nigel because he really is a bit goody goody and nerdy. But sometimes, when he thinks he might be in with a chance, he switches from goody goody to sleaze-ball and tries it on! I'd heard rumours but I didn't really believe it of him until he did it to me at the Christmas party last year when we'd both downed one too many 'cheeky vimto's'.
'Ruby', he murmured to me over the vol-au-vonts, in his most sleazy voice, 'I love it when you wear those low cut tops into the office. You should wear them more often'.
Drunk as I was I felt myself shudder and back away from him slightly.
'Is that so'? I replied. 'Well why don't I do you a favour and email your wife the details of the website that I buy them from. Then she can wear them for you at home too. I'm sure she'll be delighted to make her husband so happy'.
To my delight he went instantly white! So, just to be really evil, I added:
'I'll make sure to pass the compliment on to my husband too. He goes to the gym you know?' before leaving him to it.
He hasn't been anything but nerdy and polite in my presence ever since! In fact, I probably could have gotten away with a few extra sick day's, had I been brave enough to try. I'm just not like that. Besides, he might not be so afraid of me once he finds out that I no longer have a big strong husband to run to my defence! I decided I had better make sure news of my marriage split does not come out in my workplace...ever!
I shrugged and told Nigel I feel absolutely fine...On top of the world...Never better! I could tell he didn't believe me but he didn't argue. Instead he told me that he is concerned then that if my health is back to normal, he doesn't know what could be causing such a drop in my work out-put? He told me I appear to have done nothing for the last couple of weeks. He inferred that I am a waste of space.
'In these current times Ruby....' and I felt myself automatically switch off. Long have I been sick of listening to tales of the effects of our country's recession. And although I was aware that what he was saying to me was pretty serious (I think he was telling me basically that if I don't pull my sock's up I may lose my job) I could not bring myself to care. Is that pathetic? Is it terrible that I am more upset and concerned about spending my life alone than about starving to death or becoming homeless (worst case obv)?
Nothing matters without Mark, I found myself thinking, and I wanted to tell Naughty Nigel to shove his job up his arse! But I just didn't care enough to even do that. Instead I found myself nodding my agreement and promising to try harder.
'If you are having personal problems Ruby, you know you can always come and talk to me'. I picked up from the deepening of his voice and the nasty wink, that he had reverted to sleaze-ball for a second time and I realised that -THANK GOD- I am not yet at my lowest ebb! I am not yet desperate enough to fall for his 'nerdy' charms. And so I made my excuses and left.
Things are never as bad as they seem are they? After all, I don't HAVE to be alone. There's always Nigel, if I find myself really desperate...
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