Part 9- in which I find out her name...

I had a rough night last night. Not that every night isn't rough really, but last night was particularly bad.

After the day I'd had-the threat of unemployment from Naughty Nigel and my hen-party headache-I decided to treat myself to a bit of pampering.
You know the sort of thing-a long soak in a hot bubble bath, a new body lotion, some rich and expensive dark chocolates, 'Friends' series one on dvd-the usual indulgent girlie treats. I thought it might make me feel better about myself because I have to be honest; since I got dumped by the love of my life-the man I believed was going to love me, flaws and all, forever-I've been feeling decidedly worthless and unattractive. Think rejection on it's highest level!

Since he went I have barely had the energy or interest in combing my permanently ratted hair, never mind painting my chipped and bitten nails or wearing a scrap of make-up. But I read a feature in this month's Marie Claire magazine that talked about how we women should spend more time on ourselves as it helps our self-esteem and makes us more attractive to the opposite sex (or something along those lines) so I thought, given my current state, I'd give it a bash. What do I have to lose?

I was running the bath when I made my fatal mistake: I checked my phone to see if I had any messages.

I had three.

The first was a voice-mail from Lola-she had bumped into some mutual friends of ours in a bar in town who mentioned that they'd heard Mark and I had split up. She thought I might want to know that it's 'out'. I felt the same sinking feeling I'd experienced when I was accosted by Minty Badminton in Sainsbury's, but I swallowed it down and took a bite of one of my expensive chocolates to take the taste away.
'Nothing I can do' I thought, people are going to find out.

The second was another voice-mail from Mark's (and subsequently, my) friend Davey. He was calling to tell me he'd just bumped into Mark and Kate at the cinema!
Kate...I knew her name....how...real!
'I had no idea' his message said, bless him! I had always liked Davey-unlike most of Mark's friends who I mainly disliked with a passion.
'Just wanted to say how sorry I am. Let me know if there's anything I can do'. Ah!

A vision of my mother's face as she stormed out of my house a couple of days ago flashed through my mind! Obviously her plan to 'sort' the situation had not worked! It was now common knowledge that my life was in tatters-her reputation would be disgraced! I actually laughed! The pain I was suffering was almost worth it! Almost.

I stopped laughing when I heard the third voice-mail message.

Mark's voice made me melt with sorrow and desperation.

'Hey Rubes. It's been a while. We really need to meet up and talk. Ring me when you're free'. There was an awkward pause before he added, sounding remarkably unsure of himself, 'It's, er me, Mark, by the way'. As if there might be any confusion.

I hate to admit it but I hugged the phone to my chest-my busom to be precise-like they do in the movies. I felt a few tears well up in my eyes. I played the message again and revelled in the comforting closeness of the voice of the man, let's face it, I still loved.
Then I suddenly remembered my running bath-water and dashed into the bathroom just in time to prevent a sudsy flood.

After a few seconds of standing still and staring into my steaming bath full to the brim of soft inviting bubbles I had a rethink and pulled the plug out. I shoved the expensive chocolates into the waste bin and pulled my dirty hair up into a tight knot on my head. The mood for pampering had deserted me and instead I decided to curl up in bed listening to Mark's message over and over. Feeling sorry for myself had alwayd been my default setting.

I want to hate him-especially when I visualise him and 'Kate' together (in my mind she is tall, skinny, blonde-everything that I am not)-but I just can't! Instead, I hate myself. It's easier.

It feels like I'll never be happy-or cleanly-tressed-ever again...