Moving On

Part 32- Slimy paw prints!

2009-11-20T07:21:00.000-08:00

I thought it was too good to be true!

Me and Nigel, working together as a team. Fair enough he was acting as creepy as always,-no change there. But nothing more than that.
I had expected him to make the most of how closely we now have to work. I've been waiting for him to accost me in the lift, or rub his sweaty, polyester-covered leg up against mine under the table.

But so far; Nothing. Zip, Zilch. Nada.

Nothing, that is, until today!

He was obviously waiting to catch me off my guard.

Try it on with me? Too obvious! At least until we'd been working together for a few weeks.

So we completed on this massive project we've been putting together pretty much since my promotion. It was a huge feeling of relief and for a second, as we dotted the final 'i''s and crossed the final 't''s, I was so elated that I almost forgot who was sharing the joy with me.

Don't get me wrong: Nigel is great at his job, and credit where it's due, if it weren't for him, I doubt I would have had the slightest clue of how to go about any of it. It's just such a pity that he has to be such a sex-maniacal slime-ball!

There was a burst of excitement and high-fives were exchanged-perfectly acceptable.
Quickly I remembered who's greasy palm I was slapping and composure was resumed. Project over, I stood to gather my belongings and leave for lunch.

And that's when I felt the enormous SLAP on my arse!

I gulped first, in shock, and my brain tried to compute what signal the stinging sensation on my left butt-cheek was sending it.
Had he really just done that?

Surely this was sexual harrasment from the 70's!

I turned around and glared down at his smug mug.

"What do you think you're doing"? I almost spat, although I was trying desperately to sound like a calm, sane person and not some drama queen.
Perhaps I could have been mistaken after all?

"What"? Nigel shrugged, pretending not to know what I was talking about. "Don't be such a prude. I'm only having a little celebration of my own. Besides, I know you're up for it".

I asked him, In as calm a voice as I could muster, what the hell he meant by that?

"Well", he announced, as if he had been thinking about this for a while. "You were all over Donal Dashwood like a rash, so I take it you're well over your husband by now. Fair game, if you ask me. No point letting a hot little body like yours go to waste".

Then he grinned like the Cheshire Cat and slapped my behind once again!

I was gobsmacked! Imagine the bare-faced-cheek of him! Pardon the pun!

"I FANCIED Donal Dashwood" I did spit this time. "And I am Not 'fair game', to you, or anybody else. Pull a stunt like that again and i'll be having a cosy little chat with your wife, you old creep. And if not her, then maybe I'll file an official complaint about you! See how fair the game is then"!

With that I pulled on my jacket and began to stomp authoritatively out of the room, trying to leave with an air of dignity, even after what he had said and done.
But as I was leaving he called out to me:

"Do you really wanna risk loosing this job Ruby? After all, it is your word against mine. And I'll be honest, if I hadn't spoken up so highly for you after that disasterous interview you'd never have gotten this job. You have quite a lot to thank me for lady, and it's about time you started showing me some gratitude"!

His words made me shiver. Honestly, I've never been so shocked!

I said nothing more and left the room, but deep down I was shaking-I haven't stopped yet.

Looks like Nasty Nigel is really living up to his nick-name, and in more ways than one.

What on Earth am I gonna do now?

Part 31- Hot and Sweaty men....

2009-11-19T01:57:00.000-08:00

Lola and I felt we needed a bit of Girl time to re-bond after the whole 'married lover' debarcle, so last night I suggested we head down to the dance club -Club Cuba- that my dad and his mistress introduced me to, for a bit of fun and frolicks.

We had the best time!

Again the place was jam-packed with a mix of men and women, young and old, and every single person was out to have a good time. We picked us out a couple of hot guys who looked like they could find their way around a dance floor, and salsa-d ourselves away to heaven!
That's the great thing about that place-it's not just full of couples wanting to improve their skills-it doesn't even seem to be a sort of singles place where you might go to pick up a date. The vibe is more chilled out: We're here to dance. That's all that matters.
You can dance with as many people as you like, or stay with the same partner all night, no strings attached, and nobody takes offence or takes it too seriously! I've never experienced anywhere like it!

I danced with Jose, a beautiful Spaniard who certainly taught me a thing or two! He had a fantastic body and was most definately born with rhythm! He knew every move, every beat. Lola danced with his friend Nico, who was equally brilliant. After a while another guy cut in and asked me to dance with him. Under normal circumstances I'd be self concious about how hot and sweaty I'd become after several energetic spins around the floor, but here, no one seems to care!

So I did a Rhumba with Richard, and a Cha cha cha with Charlie. Lola didn't give her married guy a second thought as she twirled and whirled with a string of hot, hot men. And that's another thing-all the men (well, apart from some of the older ones-like my dad) are really HOT!

We were like kids in a sweet shop!
Our tongues were literally hanging out!
And not just from exhaustion!

"This place is amazing"! I heard Lola scream at one point, as Mario the Italian spun her around in a triple loop! And all the while the band kept belting out latin tunes and the dance floor remained at full capacity.

When we were so worn out that we could dance no more we opted out for a sit down and a Mojito. And a spy on all those who were still going strong. There was great viewing!

"I'm glad we're friends again", Lola told me as we took our first thirst-quenching sip of refreshing lime.
I nodded. I was glad too. No matter how I felt about her morals, I couldn't exclude Lola from my life. She was too important to me.
Besides, I was starting to see that sometimes the affair doesn't cause the breakdown of a marriage. Sometimes the affair comes after the marriage has broken down. And the 'other' person can't always be to blame.

Except in the case of MY marriage, obviously.

So we went our seperate ways, exhausted but happy. Lola, to dream about her lover, and wish he was with her then, and not his wife.
And me? To be glad that I'm young, free and single, and able to enjoy nights like that whenever I fancy. Oh, and perhaps Jose might pop up in my dreams somewhere too! Well, you never know.....

Part 30-finally, a scarlet woman I approve of....

2009-11-12T03:22:00.000-08:00

So I went and we met and the thing is, I REALLY liked her!

Rose is in her early fifties (at a guess) and though my dad is in his sixties he seemed young in her presence, as if a glow of youth reflected from her and he was bathing in it.

She is lovely to look at, beautiful I suppose, like those women who advertise anti-wrinkle cream, older but fabulous. Her skin is smooth and flawless-way better than mine which is already starting to show signs of a mis-spent period in my twenties. She is elegent in every sense, her dress which is modern yet mature, her hair-style which is sharp and healthy and yet not too young, she carries herslef with poise and grace.

I almost fell in love with her myself!

Dad is obviously smitten and it isn't difficult to see why. Aside from her TV model looks and movie star character Rose is also a lovely person. She is well spoken, confident yet not over-bearing, she has a wonderful sense of humour and told jokes about the differences between men and women at which I couldn't help but roar with laughter at.
She is also very clever and astute. She has been running her own business for years, with much success, and though she has never married or had children she seems to have a close knit circle of friends and extended family and relationships which she values with great importance.

If for some reason I had been asked to select a wife for my father (or indeed a mother for myself) undoubtedly I would have chosen Rose.

We passed a very enjoyable evening, the three of us. Firstly dinner in Chez Claude. It turns out Claude is a friend of Rose and she has been dining there for years although I had never even heard of it until this meeting was organised. It was a small, rustic, authentic French place, with a throbbing clientelle and delicious food. And though I wanted so much not to get on with dad's other woman (especially when she began conversing with some of the wait staff in fluent French) we soon began to hit it off like old friends over our meal.

She is obviously adventurous too-persuading us both to try exciting new dishes and finishing the meal with a digestif and a couple of cocktails. My kind of woman!
I have never seen my mother drink anything other than Gin and tonic, unless you count a sweet sherry at Christmas or Champagne if offered at some social event.

After dinner it was off to 'Club Cuba' which really opened my eye's to the relationship between dad and Rose.

Instead of the OAP centre I had been expecting, Club Cuba turned out to be an underground dance hall, akin to the staff quarters on Dirty Dancing! There were people of all ages and races dancing in a variety of styles to a hip and happening Latin-style band.
The place was hot and sweaty but the vibe was cool and I LOVED it!

Okay, well in fairness to begin with I felt like a bit of a plonker because I had no dance partner and visions of my high-school disco flashed disconcertingly into my head. But after a few minutes I was swept up by a tall, handsome hunk who was dressed in full cuban regalia and he spun me around the floor! From him I was passed onto another, equally gorgeous guy and it didn't take my legs long to begin tapping and twirling to the heavy beat.

I waved at dad and Rose -who were also tripping the light fantastic like a couple of Strictly Come Dancing Proffesionals-every now and then and ended up having the most fantastic night!
Between songs we paused for drinks to cool down and chat over. Dad and Rose come here every week, I learned, after dad's conscience-easing visit's to me and an episode of Emmerdale. They took dance lessons together (it turns out that's how they met) and ended up keeping up the hot moves they'd learned!

I absolutely adored the place and couldn't help thinking it would be fun to bring the girls here sometime.

How amazing that my quiet, boring old dad has been living it up in here with his fancy woman for months now? At least in a place like this he can be sure he'll never bump into my mum! Nor any of her nosey old cronies! If only they knew!

I couldn't help feeling really happy for him. At last, after years spent in misery with the nagging snob he has finally found a woman he can have fun with. He has, in my opinion, found true love.
I had such a great time with dad and Rose that I have decided if things don't work out for them (and don't ask me what I mean by that) I'm single...I'll have her myself!

Oh, and I'm going back to Club Cuba sometime next week!

Part 29-getting to know the other woman....

2009-11-10T02:35:00.000-08:00

This is a bit of a weird one and I'd like to know what you think?
My dad rang me last night. He wants me to meet up for dinner with him tonight....well, with him and his mistress! How mad is that?

After years (in fact a whole life-time or there abouts) of loathing my mother I have suddenly developed some kind of sympathy towards her which is tugging on my heart and making it feel so wrong to condone his cheating on her. And I would be condoning it surely, if I agreed to meet her and keep it all a secret from my mother.

I asked my dad why I need to meet this woman anyway, I mean, it isn't as if we are going to be around each other very much-if ever- if he is never planning to leave mum, and although he has told me about her existence I think it would be a whole lot easier for me if I convince myself that I know NOTHING about her and pretend my father's confession was all a dream. That way I can also pretend that I'm not just as bad as him every time I am in my mother's company. Even though that wouldn't be very often at all.

His reply?

He needs me to meet Rose (Oh no! Now the imagined personality has a name!) because only with Rose can he truly be himself. And he wants me-his only daughter- to at last get to know the real him.

Can I honestly believe that after 31 years I have never actually met my own father?
It's true I suppose that I know surprisingly little about him. And it would be nice to get to know what he is like when is is relaxed and comfortable, and not worrying about making a mess, saying the wrong thing or what the neighbours might think!

So with some caution I accepted his offer. We are meeting at a little French Bistro in some secluded corner of town which I have never before heard of, before going on to a club they apparently often visit together where they learn dance or something. I have pictured old dears learning the fox-trot and am wondering why they would choose to take me there?

I am shocked at the realisation that my dear old dad and this woman have a life together, one where people see them as, and believe them to be, a couple. How easy it must be to deceive those around you, to pretend you are one person, when really you are completely another. I am fascinated to meet the woman who has such sway over dad, a man who has kept his own opinions and ideas so well hidden for so many years that even I do not know who he is. I can't help but wonder what is so special about her.

Not long ago a call came through on my mobile. It was my mother's number. She rarely ever calls me, although of late she likes to inform me when rich husbands split up with their wives, just in case there's a chance I might like to hook up with one! I know it's a dream of hers!

I ignored the call. If she asked me had I plans for tonight I would have had to lie! And even though I got fairly used to lying to my mother throughout my teens and early twenties, (in fact I still do) it just wouldn't sit well with me in this particular instance.

Look who's doing the cheating now!

Part 28-where I eventually come clean!

2009-11-05T06:33:00.000-08:00

Okay, okay, I know I left you hanging there. I just wasn't in the right place to tell the world what a doofus I have been. Instead I've been hiding under the safety of my duvet and trying not to talk to ANYONE for ages! But I finally caught up with the girls a few nights ago, cleared the air with Lola, and filled them in on my most ridiculous exploit to date.

And now i'm ready to share it with you lot too...

So there we were, Nigel and I, sitting in the dimly lit Wine and Tapas bar getting sozzled on Rioja and -amazingly- chatting away like two old pals. Don't ask me what we talked about because I don't remember a word of it, but to look at us I'm sure anyone would have thought we were a couple, the way we were snuggled so close on the tiny couch and making each other laugh.

Shudder!

I don't know how many bottles we emptied, but I vaughly remember that we moved onto tequila slammers at some point before the bar staff suggested we'd enjoyed enough of their hospitality! Utterly mortifying, I know, but at the time it just seemed so hilarious!
We stood out on the street and laughed our heads off. I remember thinking how cool it was to have been thrown out of a bar! God, we must have looked pathetic!

Then somehow laughing together turned into snogging each other like two hormone-ridden teenagers after the school disco! (Just the memory of this makes me want to vomit-my lips touched Nigel's greasy face-gag)!

We were eating the face off each other in public! Out on the street right in front of the Tapas bar window! Ugh! How utterly undignified! And what about those poor people still inside, tucking into their platters of octopus tentacles and garlic mushrooms! How could they keep it down?
Then I think Nigel actually pushed me up against the wall and things began to get a little frisky! The awful thing is that I must have been enjoying it, because although I pushed him away for long enough to hail a passing taxi, we did climb into said taxi together and continue snogging all the way back to mine...

And when the taxi pulled up outside my place?
Yes you've guessed it, we both got out!

Each time I think about this I pray none of the neighbours were gawking out of their windows! The shame! To have arrived home with a man old enough to be my father (well, near enough) who is slightly balding and has a belly like a pregnant woman!

We must have continued drinking when we got home because the following morning I found an empty wine bottle on the coffee table and a couple of empty glasses.

I also found myself, in BED, next to the most awful, puke-enducing creature on God's earth: I 'm ashamed to admit it but I woke up in bed with NIGEL!

THANKFULLY we were both FULLY clothed!

Obviously the alcohol had got the better of us and prevented any shenanigans from taking place! Oh thank you Lord for inventing brewers droop! Plus, the evidence would suggest that I may have been sick, several times, in various parts of the house...no surprises there then!

Can you imagine how much worse things would be if I had actually slept with NIGEL?

Things are bad enough, because he now thinks he's actually in with a chance and flirts with me at every opportunity! Being in the office is a nightmare, and he isn't exactly being subtle about it! He doesn't even have the shame to be embarrassed! It's cringe-worthy. But it's all my fault.

I haven't seen or heard from the wonderful Mr. Dashwood since he legged it home to the Missus. -so much for working closely together! And I bet if Nigel's been in contact with him (which i'm sure he has) he will have embellished the details of what happened that night to make himself appear stud-like, rather than the (thankful) letdown that he turned out to be! So no chance for me there at all now...not that I would want one.

I think I have learned a lesson from all of this:
I'm not ready to get into the whole sex/dating thing yet. I know that Nigel was never going to be anybody's Mr. Right, but I'm just thankful that I didn't do it with Donal either. Because I'm not ready for the emotional up-heaval that moving on to someone new will eventually bring. And plus...yet another married man! At least this one WASN'T cheating on his wife!

I miss Mark all over again!
Typical!

Oh, and by the way, Lola is still dating her married man. I hate it, but I can't hate her, so i've decided to try and just ignore any mention of him or the fact that he exists. Might get a bit difficult though, because from what I can tell, Lola is really falling for him. Sooner or later there are going to be pieces to put back together. I just dread being the one to say "I told you so....".

Part 27- in which I spill SOME of the beans....

2009-10-27T04:36:00.000-07:00

I know, it's been ages since we last spoke, and I bet you've been dying to find out what happened that night with my swoonsome hero Donal Dashwood?

The truth is I've been so embarrassed I could barely show my face in public since the night in question, never mind talk about what happened. It would appear this nightmare life of mine will insist in continuing....

...oh well. It's been a couple of weeks now, so here goes:

I was of course dolled up to the nines-high-lights done, bright red dress, platform stillettos-perhaps a touch over-done for drinks with the boss, but this was a special occasion. We met in a wine and tapas bar on the outskirts of town. It was dark and cosy, only lit by candle light, with slow Spanish guitar music playing unobtrusively in the background.

Perfect! I thought, as I walked in. It was exactly what I had envisaged during my many imaginings of this evening!

Donal was already seated in a secluded corner table, a bottle of red wine uncorked and two glasses waiting to be filled. He was studying the tapas menu before he saw me, but once he set eyes on me he stood and greeted me with a kiss (lingering longer on my lips than would be considered appropriate for a boss and his employee I couldn't help thinking with absolute glee) and then like a true movie gent he pulled out a chair for me before pouring me a glass of the wine.

I was glad I had gone with the red dress-how very Spanish of me?

So anyway, we chatted for a while as the waitress hovered about us hoping we were going to order food. I think it must have been the first time in my life that I was so interested in the company I was in that studying the menu wasn't top of my agenda! Wonderful! I thought. Maybe falling for Donal would help me lose weight too! Though diet and exercise I secretly hoped! Wink wink!

The conversation was mainly about work obviously, but I could tell he was leading to more personal stuff. He would want to know if I was single, and free to be with him, without a doubt. But after about an hour of comfortable chat we were interrupted by the hovering waitress who wanted to know (for the third time) if we were ready to order food -and did we want another bottle of wine seeing as the first one was now empty?

That was when I began to think that our romantic date/meeting might not go as romantically as I had been hoping it would;

Donal said "I suppose we'd better just go ahead and order. Nigel must be running later than expected. I'm sure he won't mind if we start without him. Besides, we'll be pissed if we drink anymore wine without eating something. What do you fancy Ruby"?

I think my mouth may have opened and closed in a goldfish stylee for several seconds. Was I drunk already? Did he say something about Nigel?

"Did you say Nigel is running late"? I enquired, praying deep inside that the answer would be a resounding 'NO'.

"Well yes Ruby. He's an hour late", Donal looked around him as if to say "Well he ain't here is he"? Like I was meant to have missed him already. I felt like a daft blonde.

I muttered something about not realising Nigel was coming along tonight too and Donal began to explain (as if to a three year old) that of course Nigel was coming along, after all, he would be heading up the team I was now a part of and as of Monday (when Donal would be gone) I would be working as Nigel's right-hand woman.

Oh bring on the deep fried squid and kill me now!

We were just placing our tapas order (enough for three) when the slimy greasy one arrived and squished into our tight corner next to me. He had obviously been running because sweat was dripping from his forehead and had stained the armpits of his shirt I noticed as he removed his jacket. My appetite left me.

Once again (I was beginning to grow accustomed to the feeling) my heart dropped clean out of my chest cavity and hit the floor with a thud. I sensed my evening of romance and seduction may now take an unwanted turn.

Thankfully the second bottle of wine was quickly dispatched to our table.

The food arrived. We ate. Nigel pressed his damp body as close to me as was humanely possible without the act of love-making. I held for dear life onto my spicy meatballs and octopus rings.

Stay calm, I told myself inwardly, nothing to worry about. We'll all leave soon and Nigel will take one taxi while Donal and I will take another. Together. And we'll go back to his.

Nigel ordered a third bottle of wine. To make up for arriving so late. I remember thinking "Oh, what the hell! Wine is wine".

It was about half way through this bottle that Donal announced he had to leave. I felt panic rise within me and I immediately sobered up.

"I'd better go too", I announced, leaping to my feet and attempting to drag my coat from underneath Nigel.
I was sure this was how Donal had planned it, so that we could leave together.

But he was putting on a good show, obviously for Nigels sake, so he wouldn't catch on to our plan.

"No no Ruby. The night is young. You stay here and help Nige finish the wine. I hate to be a party pooper but I have an early start driving home in the morning and I need my beauty sleep".

Nigel nodded along and filled my glass up. Again panic.

Okay, if he was talking me out of going surely that meant I was supposed to make him stay.

"Tomorrow's Saturday" I said. "Why do you need to leave so early? Stay for another and treat yourself to a lie in". I'm not totally sure but I may have winked at that point.

His reply?

"Sorry Ruby but I really have to get on the road in good time. It's my daughters birthday and my wife will kill me if I miss her party. Especially after being away from home for so long".

And once again guess what happened to my heart?

Married? But he hadn't told me he was married! All that time we'd spent together and he hadn't even mentioned a wife...or a daughter! But then, I guess, why would he? After all, we were only working together. And he was my boss!

So Donal left after thanking me for all of my hard work and wishing me lots of luck in my new position. I returned, with immediate effect, to the feeling of devastation from which he had rescued me for two whole weeks. Nigel smiled and topped up my glass....

What happened then? I'm still not ready to talk. But when I am, you guys will definately be the first to know....

Part 26-It can't be good for the heart...?

2009-10-16T03:52:00.000-07:00

Wednesday night: dinner with Mark. Went well. Polite, adult, civilised.

Tonight: drinks with Donal Dashwood. The plan? Wild. Animal. Lust.

So Wednesday was better than I had expected. Mark and I talked. Properly.

Before I arrived I was nervous, of course, I didn't know how I would feel when I set eyes on him again.
Yes, my mind has been occupied with lusty thought's of the debonair Mr. Dashwood of late, but I suspected there might be a strong tug on the old heart strings once I saw my beloved husband again. And I was right.

As I walked into the restaurant where we had arranged to meet my ticker was getting the work-out of it's life and as I approached our table and spotted the oh-so familiar back of his head I thought I'd had it, that my heart would finally cave under the pressure and stop beating all together. It was a mixture of nerves at how the evening might proceed, and the thrill of seeing him again, of being in his company after missing him for so long.

When he saw me he smiled so warmly that for a moment it all felt unbelievably familiar and I almost forgot he didn't love me anymore. When I remembered, I felt my by-now fragile heart snap into pieces all over again.

But I was determined not to show him any emotion tonight. Not to give away any hint that I still loved him or wished he would change his mind and come back to me. Instead I had a plan.

I was promoting (only prematurely, I'm pretty certain) Donal Dashwood to new love interest for the evening. Mark was going to discover that he wasn't the only fast mover around here!

So we began pleasantly; how had we been, how was work, wasn't christmas coming around fast yet again this year?
Then we moved onto the more important stuff like me buying Mark out of the house, our solicitors details, facts and figures, that kind of thing. It was at that point that Mark seemed to me to get quite unusually emotional. He said he missed the house, talked about all the memories we had there, indicated that he regretted having to leave it.

It made me so angry! How dare he miss our house-a building!-and (apparently) not miss me. I was furious but fought hard to keep my annoyance under wraps. Instead I politely asked how things were going with Kate (It nearly killed me to say her name without spitting afterwards!) and without really waiting for an answer (could he be stupid enough to think I actually wanted to hear it?) I began to tell him how I'd met this new guy at work and that we were currently seeing each other.

"Well, I don't know if I want to use the word 'seeing'", I said, quite jovially, I thought. "I'm kind of avoiding anything serious right now, although I know he's really into me. I'm just enjoying the sex"!

Mark's face was a picture! Whatever he had been going to tell me about the 'wonderful' Kate must have stuck in his throat because he remained speechless for several minutes as I described in detail my sordid affair with my gorgeous new boss, our stolen moments in the stationary cupboard and long lunches spent in nearby hotels!

It felt good to be the one with the upper hand for once and it was obvious that Mark was uncomfortable with me 'dating' again. Was that a touch of jealousy I felt exuding from his every pore? Ha!

As we were leaving Mark walked me to a taxi and for a moment I thought he might kiss me. Surprisingly after all my talk about Donal (I think I had begun to believe my stories too!) I did still find myself wanting him to. But of course he didn't.
Instead he told me he was glad things were going so well for me and smiled as if he meant it. I couldn't help feeling deflated.
But then, as I bundled myself into the backseat of the first car to arrive and waved goodbye to my husband, Mark turned and shouted over the noise of the ravving engine that we should probably meet up again soon, and my poor, worn out heart did another fragile little leap in my chest!

Am I right to sense a glimmer of hope, however feignt it may be? Do I even care anymore?

So, drinks tonight with Donal. He wants to thank me for all the hard work I've put in this week! Little does he know it hasn't been like work for me at all! It's our final day together so tonight is make or break for my dreams of making my fantasy man my reality man...

So, will I be able to make the stories I told Mark come true? I'll keep you posted...

Part 25-in which I forget Mark's name....

2009-10-13T05:02:00.000-07:00

Okay, so the sexy Mr. Dashwood hasn't exactly made a move yet. But there is definite movement on the way, if you know what I mean.

And I cannot believe how much I really, really want him to!

We have been working so closely for over a week now that he is becoming all I think about. And here's the proof: Mark is coming over tonight for dinner (we have decided to keep things as civilized as possible for the sake of the, well, er, just for the sake of it I guess) and I have barely given the meeting a second thought since we arranged it over the weekend. We are going to sort out the house and bills and bank accounts etc,- all the really boring stuff that comes as part of the heart-break of separation,-and though I am obviously not looking forward to doing it, I feel like I can actually start to move on once we have these things organised.

But as I was saying, it would appear that the dashing Donal has entered my life at exactly the right time because his sexiness has taken my mind off Mark and is getting me through what I'm certain would otherwise be a terribly tough time.

He's so suave! A real movie hunk! You know the type-leading man material who only has to strut across a room to make all the girls swoon!
And swoon I do. Every time he arrives for our 'sessions' I can't take my eyes off him from the second he enters the room. He seems to have this powerful presence, I'd say women follow him with their eyes where ever he goes, and it's not because he wears Linx I can tell you!

When we sit close I am so aware of the heat from him and I can't stop myself imagining our bodies touching, even though they never do. Well, we have to keep everything professional don't we? He always smells gorgeous and is perfectly groomed. I did consider the idea that he might be gay for a short time but the way he looks at me (I've caught him snatching quick glances at my legs when I'm wearing a skirt) tells me that's just not possible. So it's all to play for!

Yesterday, he was explaining our new budgeting procedure and he leaned over my shoulder to point out notes on a document I had in front of me. His cheek was so close to my own I could feel his breathe and I had to physically stop myself from turning and kissing him! Oh, the temptation! This is so not like me, I just can't believe how I'm feeling. But whatever it is, I swear he was feeling it too and it hung in the air between us like some unspoken thought that neither of us was brave enough to say out loud.

So four days left before the training is over. Four days to make a move, to lure him into to stationary cupboard and seduce him! Have I got the bottle? Will he go for it, or tell me where to go? Will I get the sack if I do??? Who knows....

Oh, and then there's that dinner with my husband tonight. Now what was his name again....?

Part 24-in which tension builds....

2009-10-08T07:49:00.000-07:00

Since I spend quite a large proportion of my time presently looking back at my marriage and analysing my reletionship with Mark I have come to the conclusion that it would be fair to say there was never a lot of sexual tension between us. In fact, in the last twelve months we were togther it would be more accurate to say that there wasn't much sexual anything at all, probably because we had grown so 'accustomed' to one another that I think we had just forgotten we were once marginally attracted to each other, and not just 'doing it' because we were there. If you see what I mean?

Of course, now I know that during that final year, Mark was busy 'getting it on' with someone else, so that would obviously explain quite a lot. But to be honest he was never really the kind of bloke who got steamy in the bedroom (not with me at least) and I just sort of went along with it, never expected anything more of him, 'couldn't miss what I had never had', sort of thing. It seemed to suit us both fine.

Until yesteday, that is, and I realised what I must have been missing all along!

I arrived at work to begin my training sessions as arranged and was formally introduced to one of my new bosses, Mr. Dashwood-Donal Dashwood-the good-looker from my interview. Still as hot as ever I was pleased to note.

Donal Dashwood can only be described as text book handsome and is truly in possession of the usual cliches like a twinkle in his eye and a cheeky grin. Possibly a few years older than me, and with bags of confidence, he also has a hint of an Irish lilt to his deep, whiskey-soaked voice, into which I felt myself melting as soon as he said "Hello".

During training I found myself blushing like a school-girl each time he spoke to me, even when he was saying something as innocuous as 'Fiscal Policy' or 'Base Rates'. I swear I didn't take in a thing we covered during the whole day, but each time he reached out to hand me a document my body went into a spasm of sexual awareness! A new feeling indeed, and one that I wasn't sure I should be experiencing so soon after my marriage had ended. We hadn't even begun divorce proceedings yet!

And I was certain Donal was flirting with me! He kept saying things like, "A pretty lady like yourself" or " I'm going to enjoy working very closely with you Ruby", in his deep brogue, which was the equivalent of massaging with the voice, and I couldn't be sure that I wasn't flirting back with him, my head was in such a spin!
But surely this was a trap to have me sacked?
By mid-morning I had decided this must definatley be a deliberate ploy! The powers that be had realised their mistake in promoting me and were using our handsome Mr. Dashwood here to get rid of their little mistake. He could flirt with me all he liked, but the minute I responded by flirting back at him, that was it! I would be sacked! For insubordination or some-such offence. I wouldn't fall for that! Ha! Not me, too clever. I would keep my mouth shut and say NOTHING! I couldn't get the sack for saying nothing, could I?

When he suggested we break and take lunch together my resolve weakened on the spot. How could I say no? We chatted constantly for the two and a half hours we were out! He was great company, funny, clever, attentive-everything Mark had long since stopped being, I couldn't help but think. Then, just as we were getting ready to head back to work I felt his hand brush my knee under the table and I was almost certain that it wasn't an accident. Woah! I wasn't sure what to make of that. Not that I didn't like it of course, but something told me that it wasn't totally right, that perhaps he shouldn't be doing that.

And then I though "Ah, what the hell. He's too gorgeous to be offended by"!

The rest of the day went by in a haze of this newly discovered sexual tension too obvious not to be obvious! And last night when I went home I couldn't stop thinking about him! For the first time in ages thoughts of Mark didn't even enter my head-and it was lovely! Sweet dreams for the first time in a long time.

Today has been the same, all deep, meaningful breathing and secret glances, like a Jane Austin novel! The whole thing has me in quite a fluster! I can't help but wonder how long it might be before he makes his move....

Part 23-where I can see light on the horizon...

2009-10-06T02:44:00.000-07:00

Although it has been a tough few days, at last there seems to be a bit of sunshine on the distant horizon-only the tiniest speck of a ray though, not like a full-on beautiful day in the Carribbean or anything!

The tiny beam of light is this: I have been offered the promotion!

Nigel called me into his den of iniquity (his office) earlier this morning to personally offer me the position of group leader (I got the distinct impression however, that this wasn't the only position he was hoping to put my way) and after managing to totally convince myself that I hadn't a cat in hell's chance of getting the job, I was so over-joyed that I almost leapt out of my chair and kissed him. Almost.

I probably should have played the game, taken some time to consider my answer to avoid looking too keen, even held out for more moolah perhaps. But I was so desperate to get the damn job and sooooo shocked to find out that I had, that I didn't want to give them any opportunity to change their minds! I for one had no idea what had convinced them that I was the correct candidate for the promotion, so I was worried that, given time to rethink their decision, they might have difficulty justifying their choice also!

So I accepted the offer quite loudly and quite profusely, leaving absolutely no room for confusion and then I tried not to squirm when Nigel felt the need to hug me in congratulation. Images of how closely I would now be expected to work with him flashed through my mind but I did my very best to ignore them, at least for the time being. I didn't want anything to spoil the feeling of happiness I was experiencing, it seemed so new to me after such a long time feeling like crap!

Speaking of crap, my weekend was pretty much that. Although after a couple of long talks with my dad I am feeling a little bit better about the whole 'every single person I know is a cheater' revelation. I guess forgiving him is easier because I can totally understand why he would cheat-who wouldn't be tempted to cheat on my mother? He told me all about his 'other woman' and I have to admit to kind-of liking the sound of her! She's about ten years younger than him, has a great career, and is completely independant and self-sufficient. He says she is beautiful and a free-spirit who doesn't give a rats arse what other people think of her-nothing like my mother, that's for sure. In fact, she sounds like someone I'd love to be!

Getting my head around Lola and her married guy is proving to be a bit harder, but I'm trying to work it out because I couldn't bear to lose Lola as my friend. I've been wondering if it's possible to ignore the fact that she's seeing him and just pretend that he doesn't exist? I guess that's what life could have been like for me if I'd managed to hang onto Mark. Sometimes I suppose it's better to cut your loses.

So anyway Lola's free this week (wifey is back from visiting her sick mother!) and I intend to have a proper talk with her man-to-man sort of thing, and see if I can't convince her to end it now before someone gets hurt. Failing that I suppose I'll have to decide if I can handle it or not, after all, if I can forgive my father surely I can forgive my friend, right?

Now to end on another bit of good news. Apparently from tomorrow I will be doing a bit of training with guess who? No, not Naughty bloody Nigel-thank goodness!- remember the gorgeous guy from the interview? Just me and him for a week working one-on-one. My heart's racing just at the thoughts of it! Now there's one man I wouldn't mind trying out a new position with...! Did I just say that?

Part 22-All men are cheating, lying, dogmen scumbags!

2009-10-01T02:27:00.000-07:00

O M G! Why does it seem that the universe is conspiring against me to make my life a misery and turn every person I thought I could trust into a lying cheating scumbag?

Does every man cheat on his wife? Should I just accept this as being normal and stop letting it upset me?

You're not going to believe this....

I was sitting at home alone watching tv and mulling over my feelings towards Lola now that I know she's seeing a married man, trying to decide whether to condone the fact that she is doing to some other poor cow exactly what the lovely 'Kate' has done to me, or to issue her with some kind of 'him-or-me' ultimatum, when my dad payed me one of his now regular weekly visits.

He arrived all quiet and mysterious as always and for a few moments we sat together pretending to be engrossed in the punch-up between Cain Dingle and Debbie's cheating scumbag of a boyfriend in the far-from-peaceful village of 'Emmerdale'.
There it was again, I couldn't help but think, cheating, lying men evereywhere I turned. Was there no escaping the fact that all men are pigs? I felt my hackles rise once more but tried to save dad from having to listen to a rant by biting my lip intently.

He might be a man but he wasn't stupid. "What's up, Love"? he asked, all innocence.

"Nothing, nothing." I tried to brush him off-save him the torment of being part of my world.

But he was insistent, kept going on, "You seem upset, Love. Tell your old dad what's wrong". And this from a man who had spent the last 32 years buttoning it and saying nothing!

And so I explained to him all about how my good friend Lola was seeing Matt, who had a wife, and how that made me feel as if she was cheating on me too, just like Mark had with Kate, not to mention poor Pamela and her cheating fiance, and that here I was in my own home trying to find a few small moments of escapism and yet I was faced with yet another lying cheating Dog-man on bloody Emmerdale!

"IS THERE NO ONE HONEST OUT THERE ANYMORE"? I screamed.

Poor old dad. I could tell I'd embarrassed him because he flushed bright purple. He wasn't used to such out-pourings of emotion. Mother was a cold fish, to say the least.

For a minute he said nothing and I wished I had taken a leaf out of Mum's book and kept it all inside, after all it hadn't done her any harm had it. She was lucky enought to be married to a saint! Maybe if I'd just been a little less of an emotional wreck Mark would never have left....?

But then dad seemed to muster up a voice he had never had before and my whole world came crashing down around my ears as he spoke....

"Ruby, perhaps now is not the best time to tell you this, but I don't want to go on lying to you, and although if it makes you feel any better I am fairly certain that not ALL men cheat on their wives, there is one more who does that you should know about. Ruby, I'm having an affair".

It was like that night with Mark all over again. My stomache lurched like it was going to introduce me to dinner again (two slices of Dairylea on white bread and a Snickers bar incidently) and I felt my head spin. I was utterly lost for words.

Even my own bloody father was a cheating, lying Dog-man, scumbag! How could this be? This had to prove the theory that ALL men cheat! I was tempted to ring Cass and tell her to start rifling through Dave's pockets, but I managed to stop myself.

Dad explained that he had been so unhappy with my mother (well, come on, tell me something I don't already know) but could never bring himself to leave her and break her heart (ruin her social standing more like, but whatever), but recently he had met a woman who made him feel happy and though he had tried to resist temptation, eventually he had given in to his own needs and desires and at last found love in the arms of another.

See, when you put it like that it's almost easy to condone. And where my mother is concerned, surley these were extenuating circumstances? But he'd cheated on his wife-that made him no better than Mark or Debbie Dingle's fella, didn't it?

That's why he has starting coming to visit me I realised, because it eases his guilt about cheating on my mother. He said he felt so much worse about it after seeing what I've been going through with Mark. And there was me thinking he just wanted to be there to comfort me! Bloody men!

Well, after that bombshell you can imagine where my head is at. I haven't given a second thought to the fact that I'll find out whether I got that promotion today! Yes, even though the interview went particularly awfully, and the universe appears to have it in for me just now, I still have my fingers crossed that for once life will deal me a good hand. Who the hell am I trying to kid?

Part 21-I audition for Oliver! -the X-rated version....

2009-09-29T07:54:00.000-07:00

Well, as you may have imagined, the interview went Badly. And yes, that is with a Capitol B!

Not only did I look like I was auditioning for a part in 'Oliver! the musical' the X-rated version, but I also hadn't had time to practise my interview skills and came across like a complete air-head. I had hardly slept on Thursday night with the upset of knowing I had ruined a perfect interview outfit and in my knackered state I fluffed the answers to most of the questions, and I know the MD didn't take me seriously...how could he when he was able to see right down my top when he stood up to shake my hand? Disaster!

Mind you Naughty Nigel seemed well chuffed with my chosen outfit and was certainly more interested in my chest than he was in my answers to his questions. And not only him, no. The new important guy (who, even in my state of mourning, could be described as nothing but a HOTTIE) seemed pretty interested in what was down there too! I caught him checking me out on more than one occasion. I guess I still have it! Even dressed like a street urchin!
And though he is obviously way out of my league I did feel my pulse quicken slightly every time he asked me anything! He was really hansome-in a swoony James Bond kind of way-but boy did he know it! I couldn't help myself wondering what doing overtime might be like under him!
But I managed to stop myself quickly-fancying other blokes just doesn't seem right somehow. Not yet anyway.

But enough about the disasterous interview (and the fact that I've spent the whole weekend wondering where I'll live when Mark makes me sell my house-amongst other things) I need to talk about something else. Something that I've been trying hard not to think about but can avoid no longer.

Lola is dating a married man!

And I'm so unbelievably angry with her!

I guessed on Thursday night when I was in the pub with her and Matt-hence the shock causing me to spill my drink and ruin my life (again)! Suddenly it all made sense: why she'd kept him a secret for so long, why they saw each other at such random times and why she couldn't say no to him when he had a free evening (even when her best mate needed her urgently).

She didn't want me to know he was married because she knew I wouldn't approve. How can I? After what Mark has done to me how could I condone Lola doing the same thing to someone else? It's just all so wrong. Why can't people just leave married people alone and find someone single to fancy instead?

Funny though, but a couple of months ago and I probably wouldn't have cared all that much. I would have been worried for Lola, sure, in case she got hurt. But I wouldn't have given Matt's wife (who I will probably never meet-let's face it) a second thought. Now, my perspective has changed totally and I can't help seeing Lola the way I see Mark's bit on the side-a tramp! A scarlet woman! A complete slag!

Even though I know she really isn't.

She called me, Lola, after my interview on Friday. But I didn't answer. I couldn't speak to her. She tried again on Saturday but again I ignored her. Then, on Sunday evening, after a whole weekend of feeling miserable and desperately lonely I called her... And I told her I thought she was a dispicable person.

She wanted to meet up and talk to me, said she understood why I might be upset. I refused and of course I said some things I shouldn't have. What's new? She didn't even defend herself. It's not like her.
I will talk to her, soon. I just need a few days to sort my mixed-up head out...again!

They're announcing the promotions before the weekend they said. I won't be holding my breathe....!

Part 20-Oops....

2009-09-25T07:54:00.000-07:00

Oh God, this has to be a quickie! My interview is in 15 minutes!

Shopping last night was a disaster on a massive scale. So bad I really don't know where to start. Basically Lola took me to some great places. I tried on numerous fabulous 'Miss Money Penny-style' outfits and eventually chose one which I thought looked pretty good! A fitted jacket and pencil skirt in charcoal grey, with a sheer pink blouse...it said stylish and efficient, and meant I was a shoo-in for the promo.

So her mystery guy tagged along. He seemed okay and when he suggested we all go for a drink to celebrate my successful purchasing (even though I noticed that Lola didn't seem that keen) I agreed. I was keen to start answering some of the questions on the list and didn't want to waste the opportunity.

We went into a bar in town and Matt (that's his name) bought Lola and I a glass of wine. He actually seemed charming, until I began asking some important questions and he really tensed up. So did Lola.

'Where do you see yourself and Lola in 6 months' I asked, and I might as well have asked if he fancied commiting a murder the way they both went on. Lola flashed me a look that said that she did, in fact, fancy commiting murder, while lover-boy blushed so red I thought my wine might boil.

'I'm only asking' I went on, hoping to calm the situation. 'You're obviously serious about each other, I mean it has been months now, and you're shopping together and stuff. When's the wedding'?

I actually laughed thinking I was cracking an hilarious joke and expecting them to join in but they didn't. Instead both of them just sat there looking embarrassed and I couldn't understand what I had said wrong.

Then Lola said:

'Ruby, Matt and I are keeping things casual. I told you, it's nothing serious. Just put The List away okay'?

Damn! She had worked out what I was up to!

I said I was sorry. No point falling out with Lola when I had only just sorted things out with Cass.

'You guys should come over for dinner at the weekend, I know Cass will be around and she's dying to meet you Matt. Saturday'? I wanted to get to know him a bit more and Cass could help me out with The List.

But before Matt had a chance to answer Lola was saying 'No', they couldn't. Matt would be busy.

I was about to ask if Matt could answer for himself when it dawned on me that there was something dodge going on here. Why were they so reluctant to admit there was anything serious going on, yet Lola couldn't leave him tonight to come shopping with me?

It suddenly hit me! And I knew by the look on her face that Lola knew I had worked it out.

That's when I knocked over my wine glass and spilled red wine all over my pile of paper shopping bags! My interview outfit was destroyed and it was 9.05pm...too late to shop again!

So here I am, awaiting the call to Nigels office, wearing an old black suit and one of my new low-cut tops...I just knew they'd come in handy! What choice did I have?

I'm dreading this interview and after what I found out last night I really don't feel up to it....

Part 19-let me tell you about 'The List....

2009-09-23T07:41:00.000-07:00

Hit the high street after work last night (had to leave work early because no late night shopping on a Tuesday obviously). Must have looked at a billion grey suits (trousers, skirts, shift-dresses, cropped pants, shorts??? with every style of jacket imaginable). All horrible on my fat, wobbly, oaf-like frame! Bugger!!! Note to self-must go on a sodding diet! I have re-gained all the weight I lost while grief-stricken in the days after Mark walked out. Must be more calories in wine than I thought?

It wasn't an altogether fruitless expedition though. I did manage to come home with a t-shirt emblazoned with the slogan: 'Single and desperate' (I thought it was kitch for about 5 seconds!), a pair of this seasons wet-look leggings (with my thighs?-BIG MISTAKE), and two seriously low-cut tops (my fall-back plan). I told you I was crap at shopping.

I rang Lola again and proved the t-shirt slogan right:

'Please Lola, shop with me! I am desperate'!

She said 'no' again at first, but once I described to her the delights I had so far managed to pick up while shopping alone she relented and promised to come. Everybody wants to be needed, right?

'Thursday night is late night shopping. I'll meet you at Starbucks. I may have my new man-friend in tow-I trust this will not be a problem'?

I needed her help so much that I would have agreed to anything. But now that I think about it I am a little weirded out by having a strange man tag along while I try on various undoubtedly unflattering outfits. I just hope he's a nice guy-Lola has a tendency to go for swines! But I will admit to being more than a bit excited about finally meeting her mysterious man! She has kept him a secret from Cass and I for months now and that has to mean something, doesn't it?

I rang Cass right away to tell her!

'Oh, I can't believe you're gonna get to meet him', she moaned, as I knew she would. 'Make sure to take 'The List' with you. It will save us loads of time later'.

The List is something Cass and I devised months ago,-especially for Lola-, to help her find the right man after years of dating losers, wasters and good-for-nothings. We used to call it the 'Lola List' but since my sudden revert back to single status I have been informed by my girls that it should now be known simply as 'The List' and can apply to any one of us (including Cass, should she find herself up-dating her own status any time soon).

Usually we would all go through 'The List' after Lola has been on 2 or three dates with a new man and shows interest in seeing him some more. It contains questions like:

-Is he ready to commit?
-If so, why is he not already committed?
-Or is he???

As well as:

-Does he smoke?
-How much does he earn?
-What are his thoughts on having children?

You get the idea!

Depending on the answers to these questions, as a group, we decide if it's worth Lolas while actually seeing said guy again, or whether she should wave bye-bye and move on (we deem anymore than three dates with a man who isn't serious long-term potential at this point in her life a total waste of dating energy.

Up until now Lola has been perfectly happy with this arrangement, but since meeting the 'mystery man' (whose name she won't even share with us) she has refused to answer any questions on The List, and has insisted The List be 'shelved' until further notice!

As Cass has so correctly pointed out, by meeting and spending time with Lola and her fella I will now be in a position to suss out answers to some of the questions on The List, and therefore try to guide our dear friend in the most appropriate direction in which to take her 'relationship'. Oh, the weight of responsability!

I assured Cass that I will indeed have The list about my person on Thursday night and also promised to call her the second I get home and fill her in on all details (she did not seem interested in any details about my interview outfit-I will have to sqeeze that in too).

There is hope! I know with Lola's help I will knock 'em dead! Wish me luck!!!!!

Part18-Where are Trinny and Susannah when you need 'em?

2009-09-22T04:14:00.000-07:00

I've just been informed that my interview for the job promotions being offered in the office will be on Friday! I am gripped with a sudden panic! Friday!!!! Shit!

My first thought as Naughty Nigel plonked his rather considerable behind on the edge of my not-very-tidy desk and told me I am to attend an interview at 9am in his office (apart from 'good God get your fat ass off my poor fragile little desk you monster') was exactly what you might expect from a girl in my position:
'What the hell am I going to wear'?

Well obviously other worries flashed through my head first;
-9 am? Very early! What if I'm in late?
-Nigel's office? Will the smell and general 'nearness' of him distract me?
-Oh crap, I only have three days to prepare!!!!!

But the outfit! Well, that is my immediate worry of course. Not only will I be sat in front of the disgusting Nigel and his famous wandering eyes, but the MD and some important new head guy will also be in attendance. For the last few weeks in here I have literally been 'a mess' and couldn't have cared less whether I was smart, or projecting 'the right image'. But now? I have only one thought:

'I have absolutely NOTHING to wear'!

As soon as the greasy letch had shifted his enormous posterior and moved on I picked up the phone and called Lola (she's always very stylish, she reads 'Vogue'-I tend to stick to Heat or Bella).

'We need to go shopping' I panted down the line like a nuisance caller. 'Are you free tonight'?

She told me no, sorry, she has a date with the mystery guy...charming!

'Tomorrow then. I need a new interview outfit'?

Lola was very apologetic but told me she is tied up with lover-boy until the weekend and shopping is a no-can-do! To say I was shocked is an understatement-Lola NEVER puts her men before her mates! WTF was going on?

'Lola, you can see him anytime' I tried begging. 'But I must have an outfit before Friday morning'!

' I can't see him anytime, sweetie. He erm, works away quite a lot and we only get odd days together. That's why I can't stand him up this week. It could be a month before we see each other again properly. You can shop on your own can't you'?

She refused to budge! That is so not Lola! Something else I need to make a note to get to the bottom of!!!!

So anyway, I told Lola I guessed I'd have to shop alone and hung up. Cass is crap at shopping-she gets too impatient and buys all her stuff off the internet to save bother. I need high-street stores and I need them now.
I almost began to hyperventilate just thinking about my limited time frame.....

I rang Cass anyway, to tell her about Lola's 'suspicious' behaviour. Cass didn't seem surprised or worried, yet more odd behaviour! Have I been abducted by aliens and returned to the wrong planet? That would explain quite a lot.

So instead of getting my interview technique up to scratch and up-dating my CV, I've spent the morning checking out office style online, at Next and such-like. I am salivating at the thought of trying on some new outfits-that's has to be a good sign surely? I have made a mental note not to wear anything too low-cut (I know how much Nigel likes that) although the way things are going, low-cut may be my only chance....

Part 17-James Bond is my dad....

2009-09-18T07:10:00.000-07:00

In a life that truly is becoming stranger than fiction, another episode of weirdom occurs.

My dad came a-visiting again last night and I'm beginning to suspect that something might be 'up'.
Two visits in two weeks is like, a record in my life time, and I just know there has to be an explaination for why he has started to make the effort (as if me being 'left' and him being married to my mother wasn't enough reason for him to want to spend time at mine).

He isn't giving much away but I got the impression last night that if I pry enough he might just let me in. Not sure if I really want to know what goes on in my father's private life though, to be honest, so I might just try not being nosey for once in my life.

Anyway, he arrived on my doorstep once again, unannounced and unassuming. I made him tea and layed out a plate of biscuits (the end of a packet of hobnobs, the last Club Milk and a couple of stale cream crackers was the best I could do-must make a note to always have good selection of biscuits in for any future unexpected callers or further visits from dad), and we sat in silence while pretending to watch Emmerdale and then some random cookery show -well, I was pretending anyway, perhaps he was watching for real, I shouldn't speak for him.

After the cookery show ended dad turned to me and asked me how I was doing. I told him about my meeting with the bank manager and how I was aiming to get a promotion at work. He looked decidedly unconvinced at the prospect of my getting it! Thanks dad! But on the plus side, he must have been so certain of my lack of capabilities that he offered to lend me the money to buy Mark out!
I'm kind of relieved (as well as offended obviously!)-I mean I wouldn't have to worry about licking up to Naughty Nigel forever more-but at the same time getting help from my parents just doesn't sit right with me now. I mean, I've been married for goodness sake, I should be able to stand on my own two feet by now! Besides I'd have mum on my case constantly if I owed her money: telling me what I could and couldn't buy and threatening me with legal action if I so much as tried to have a night out with the girls! It just wouldn't be worth it!

I said as much to dad.

'Oh, don't get me wrong, this would be between you and me love', he patted his finger off the end of his nose conspiritorilly. I was puzzled.

'Don't you have a joint account though' I asked, 'Surely mum would notice that sort of money going missing'?

Dad looked me square in the eyes and said 'Ruby, there are lots of things your mother doesn't notice about me, and plenty more I choose not to tell her'.

Talk about suspense! That's when I got the impression that something was up and that he was trying to give me a clue or two, but at that moment I was too stunned to speak. This was my poor, badly done-to old dad acting like some kind of secret agent and it was just plain weird! I'm trying not to think about it....

So anyway, I'm still going to try my very best to get promoted (even though my own father has no faith in me), but at least now I know I'm not going to lose the house whatever happens-oh, the relief!

I just hope dad isn't offereing me the dosh because he's thinking of leaving mum and moving in here with me as my roomy! I mean, technically he would own half of it wouldn't he? Now that really would be total weirdom!!!

Part 16-in which I get determined....

2009-09-17T03:05:00.000-07:00

Bad News!

I had a meeting with my bank manager yesterday (how very grown up have I become?) and all was not good.
After talking about it to the girls on Friday night I decided that it might be a good idea to start getting my future in order and finding out where I stand with regard to buying Mark out of the house we bought together before we got married. I can't just sit around moping forever.

I love that house. It was never a starter home for us, although it was the first place we bought together. It sounds stupid now but I could really visualise us raising a family there, and putting the work in over the years to make it the type of cosy relaxed home I'd always wanted. Okay, so we'd hadn't done much more than paint a few rooms since moving in 5 years ago, but we had a plan and I always thought we'd get around to it one day...

The girls thought I might be better off to cut my losses and agree to sell up and split any money made between us. I could buy a little one bed apartment and start again. And I might be better off away from the memories-good and bad. But it's not what I want.
I've lost my husband, and it's as if the rug has been pulled from underneath me. I really don't want that to be a literal discription of my life.

But after yesterday it's looking like I may have no choice. My bank manager was pretty reluctant to lend me any more money. The only thing on my side is the fact that there just happens to be a recession going on right now and the bank would rather I double my mortgage and keep attempting to pay for the house than we try to sell it...and nobody buys it! Or worse still, we sell it at a loss! Who'd have thought that with all the bad luck I'm having at the moment, my saving grace would turn out to be worldwide economic meltdown?

Not that he said yes. Oh, no, he didn't. He basically told me my earnings are crap and not enough to persuade him to give me a break. But when I mentioned that there are some big money promotions coming up at work he perked up a bit (I admit, I was clutching at straws by this stage because I have about as much chance of getting one as I have of meeting Camilla Parker Bowles in HMV). The deal is this: If I can bag me a promotion before the end of next month the mortgage is mine...if not I'm out on my ear!

I'm not sure how to feel-on one side I want to keep the house-but on the other do I really want a promotion in a job I pretty much hate at the best of times? And even if I did, how do I go about getting me one? They say life is about choices don't they? Crap choices...sure!

Interviews for the promotion are starting next week. Before yesterday I hadn't even put myself forward, but this morning I marched up to Naughty Nigel's desk all full of determination (determination to ignore his slimyness) and placed my application right in front of him. To say he almost choked on his morning coffee would be an understatement! Today I'm keeping my head down and I'm trying my best to focus on work, work, work-which is why I'm logging off now, obviously!

Last week it looked like I might get the sack. I've only got a few days to turn things around. Wish me luck....

Part 15-in which I curl up in the snug....

2009-09-15T02:24:00.000-07:00

So, about my date with Lola on Friday: I had been really looking forward to catching up with her and having a girlie night out. I haven't seen that much of her lately because she's started seeing some guy from work and, although she's playing her cards very close to her chest, I get the feeling things are pretty serious.

It's weird cos Lola doesn't 'do' serious, (she's my fun friend while Cass is the sensible one), but I guess it happens to all of us evenutually and we fall for the lies of some loser who promises to love us forever, only to let us down in the end. I made a note to myself to make every attempt to try and put Lola off getting in too deep. I didn't want her getting hurt the way I had.

But when I turned up at the bar we had arranged to meet in -this new place in town she had told me was real hip and happening-I started to get a tiny bit suspicious. The place wasn't hip and happening at all. Rather, it was one of those old-man style pubs where people sit quietly over a pint and there's no music playing in the back ground.
Not the sort of place Lola frequented at all.

And there was no sign of Lola. I wondered if perhaps I had gotten the name wrong but I checked the text she'd sent me with the name and directions on it and everything was right. This had to be the place! I didn't have a clue what was going on.

Feeling uncomfortably conspicuous in my mini and stilettos, I took out my phone again, about to ring Lola and chastise her for picking such a quiet place to meet, when a text came through from her saying to 'hold fire' and get myself a drink. She'd be there in a minute.
I did as she bid and pulled up a bar stool. I ordered a gin and tonic, although I was tempted to ask for a pint of ale.

No sooner had my drink of 'mothers ruin' been dropped in front of me, when the door swung open and in walked a familiar figure-also dressed to the nines. But it wasn't Lola.
All at once I worked out what was going on as a confused-looking Cass stood in front of me.

Of course! Lola had set us both up. I should have known she would pull something like this. Arranging for us both to meet here, in a quiet pub, so we could talk. It was exactly what they did in the movies-Lolas' favourite source of life coaching!

For a moment Cass looked aghast. I thought she might turn and run. I thought about running myself.
But as reality dawned on her and she too worked out Lolas' little game, Cass burst into roars of laughter. And I couldn't help but join in.

In minutes we had hugged and were both apologising, one louder than the other. Cass ordered a drink and we took a seat in a snug, away from the full view of the bar (not that there was anyone but the barman to look at us).

'I really am sorry Rubes' Cass told me as we got comfortable. 'I should never have said all of those things to you. Mark was your husband at the end of the day and I should have realised how much what I said would hurt you. I didn't mean it. Well, not all of it anyway'.

'No. You were right' I replied seriously, meaning every word. I had given this a lot of thought.
'Mark wasn't a very good husband and I probably am better off without him. It was just hard to listen to at first. I feel such a fool for wasting all those years on him'.

Cass took my hand and hooshed herself closer to me.
'You haven't wasted any time Rubes. Everything in life is a learning experience. So you got married and it didn't work out. So what? You were happy most of the time, weren't you? So it was part of your life. Now you move on to the next part-the better part! And I have a feeling there are plenty of hunky, sexy men in this part, so don't worry'.

I gave her a big hug and was grateful for the fact that no matter what happens in any part of my life, Cass would always be a constant I can keep coming back to. And I was also grateful for Lola-another constant-who had risked her friendship with us both to put things right between us.

We didn't move from that seat in that little snug for the whole night except to go to the bar or the toilets. By 9pm we had moved from Gin and Tonics onto those pints of ale that looked so wholesome and delicious! At 9.30 the barman put the match on behind the bar and a small crowd gathered on bar stools to watch. It livened the place up a bit.
At some point Lola joined us, relieved to hear her cunning plan had paid off, and the three us us sat there and talked and laughed and had the best night in ages, all dolled up in our party outfits, shoes kicked off, curled up in the snug in the old mans pub.

Thank God for friends.

Part14-where I find a stranger on my doorstep....

2009-09-11T06:57:00.000-07:00

Well, I've made it to another Friday, thank goodness! Another tough week down-many, many more to go.

Apart from now being the subject of office gossip (more on that later), I also feel like a total train wreck! I haven't slept properly in weeks and I still cry quite often. Most nights when I get home from work I bung some frozen crap or other in the microwave and then cry for the rest of the night. Sometimes I can stop long enough to catch an episode of Coronation Street or Come Dine With Me, but generally it's just a permanent flow of constant weeping. You'd think Mark had died, not just left me!

Anyway, last night was a bit different. My dad came over.

It was so surprising! He NEVER visits. He especially never visits without mum. Although we were pretty close when I was younger, things changed when I became a teenager and it wasn't cool to hang out with your dad. Plus, I suppose I blamed him in some way for me ending up with the mother from hell! (Surely if he'd managed to mix his gene's with some other, better, woman, I'd have still been born me? After all, I am NOTHING like my mother so I must be predominantly his gene pool)!

So anyway, there I was snivelling away alone having just polished off a box of micro chips and a pot of Ambrosia custard (I do hope Gillian McKeith isn't reading this!), when the doorbell rang.
I contemplated not answering but I sort of thought it might be Cass, coming to say sorry or something, so I wiped my wet eyes best I could and opened up.
There was my dad, standing on my doorstep, a big fake smile on his face.

He said he'd come because he was worried about me: Couldn't bare to think of me on my own and heart-broken. I didn't know what to say to him to begin with so I made him a mug of tea.

Then we sat and watched Corrie together in a not-particularly-awkward silence and I didn't cry at all.
When it was over dad turned to me and said:

'She doesn't mean to be the way she is you know'. And I knew he meant my mother.

'How do you put up with her'? I asked. Were we bonding now? How weird?

He looked so forlorn as he shrugged and said:

'She wasn't always like that. She used to be the woman I loved. And anyway, wasn't it worth it to have gotten a wonderful daughter like you'.

I remained silent and said nothing about my gene theory.

'Try not to be too hard on Mark, or too upset about what's happened love'. He said then, and took me by surprise. 'Sometimes things are just over, and it's best for everyone in the long run to call it a day. In a way, he's been very brave'.

I wanted to scream at him and ask him how brave it was to marry someone and then, less than three years later, break your marriage vows. But I didn't. His words had stung me and I knew there was truth in them to some extent.

My poor dad, I thought. He wishes he'd been brave enough to leave mum.

'I probably shouldn't say this, but, it's never too late you know'?

He nodded, understanding my meaning, and suddenly part of me felt I'd had a lucky escape with Mark. I'd hate to think that staying with me might have made him as unhappy as my dad is with mum. Mind you, at least dad didn't go out and find himself a floozy called Kate!

So dad went, and I was left thinking about what he'd said, and I realised something that I hadn't allowed myself to think before: Mark could have lied and cheated on me forever.
But he hadn't. He'd chosen to tell me to my face that he no longer loved me so that I could move on and live my life. I suppose I should be grateful to him to some extent.

Then again, maybe he wasn't thinking of me at all and just wanted to be with 'Kate' so badly he was prepared to hurt the only person that stood in his way.

Maybe I'll never know. But I like the first theory better...

The office has been hellish today thanks to Pam and her big mouth! This is the sort of rubbish I've been listening to all day:

'I heard your husband's left you Ruby-you must be devastated'

' I heard your fella's been doing it with a girl nearly half your age, but you mustn't feel humiliated'!

'Ruby, is it true you were involved in that wife-swapping situation with Pamela, her husband and their best friends'?

Thank God I'm going out for drinks with Lola tonight! Hopefully that'll take my mind off my spiralling-out-of-control-life few a few hours, at least...

Part 13-in which i am sacrificed by the sisterhood...

2009-09-10T07:11:00.000-07:00

Perhaps 'poor' Pamela isn't quite as deserving of my sympathies as I had at first thought. It seems some people will do ANYTHING to deflect attention (negative attention at least) away from themselves.

As I mentioned yesterday, everyone in here was gossiping about her. She was the main topic of inane chat around the water cooler and they were all asking those of us who were actually there to witness this traversty (boring Brenda's word's-not mine) for the truth about what went on.

Of course out of some unspoken sisterhood loyalty I refused to be drawn on the subject and kept myself to myself for most of the day. I was the last person who wanted to get involved in office tittle-tattle right now, given my own sordid situation!

Naturally throughout the day the rumours that were spreading like wild fire around the place got more and more twisted, until, by around 4pm I actually heard from dopey Debbie in accounts that Pamela had been involved in a 'wife-swapping' senario, which had led to Pamela herself becoming embroiled in a torrid affair with her best friends husband. The friend had allegedly found out, and, after an initial period of understandable shock, had suggested that the two couples live in harmony in the one house, happily ever after. Half the office believed that this actual situation was real and had been a kept secret by Pamela for several months now, until at last, on Saturday night at the hen, said 'best friend' had decided she could keep her love for Pamela's betrothed a dirty secret no longer and announced it for all the world to hear!

This, of course, was a load of old tosh!

Pamela's fiance was just a bollocks, like the rest of mankind!

I felt so bad for her that I decided I would try and speak to Pam, try and make her feel better, let her know that she wasn't the only one to be dumped on from a great height. Maybe it's something to do with falling out with Cass (we still haven't spoken by the way) but I'm feeling all 'sister's unite' today, so I sidled up to her desk while everyone else had gone off to the canteen for a brew (she, like me, obviously prefered not to be around everyone else just now and had hung on in the office).

'I know what you're going through' I told her in a low voice,- probably a little too secret-agent-like if I'm honest.

When she looked up at me with tear-stained eye's I gave in and let the cat out of the bag, telling her all about Mark and how he'd left me out of the blue for some floozy.

Pamela sat in silence taking it all in and for a moment I felt we had some weird 'dumpee' connection. As a result I told her all about the 'other' woman and how Mark wanted to sell our house and get a divorce. Her sad eye's lit up and I really believed I had managed to cheer her up by sharing.
Feeling she had my back, once I had finished my story of woe I added 'You will keep this to yourself Pamela, won't you'?

She nodded-quite sheepishly now that I think of it actually-and before I could receive my sympathy hug and pat-on-the-back for being one of the sisterhood she was up from her seat and away off to follow the rest of the office gossips into the canteen.

I knew immedialtely that I had made a ginormous error-Pamela was gonna sacrifice me in order to save herself!

She was going to tell them my secret.

By the time I was ready to clock off at 5pm I could already hear the whispering from all the way down the corridor. People were turning their backs on me to snigger as I entered a room. The girls who sat across from me in the office were looking at me with doe-eyed sympathy and I just knew that everybody knew!

No longer was Pamela-the cow- the subject of office gossip. Now it was all focused on something much more interesting and juicy-ME! After all, what could be more pathetic than a woman who had shreiked and -dare-I-say-it-boasted with pride while her collegues had cooed and fawned over her wedding photos not three years ago, only to be unceremoniously dumped by her 'darling' hubby before they'd even had chance to celebrate their third anniversary?

I was a laughing stock, just as I had feared I would be. So much for sisterhood!

I got out of there as quickly as I could but made sure to flash my angriest scowl towards Pam on the way out.
I heard her mutter something like:
'It just slipped out Ruby' as I fled the building.

'Yeah, not out of your best friend though, it would seem'! I wanted to shout back....

What do I do about Cass? I feel terrible and part of me thinks I should ring her and apologise...the other half thinks that would be admitting that I had a crappy marriage...which I didn't! I need advice.

Part 12-in which I am forced to hear some home truths...

2009-09-09T02:18:00.000-07:00

Poor Pamela!

She didn't show at work for the last two days, but she's arrived in this morning and I can tell by her face that she's feeling a lot like I did only a few weeks ago (not that I'm feeling any better today). Already the whole office is either all over her-offering their useless sympathies- or avoiding her like the plague and whispering in corners...'was it true'?...'will she take him back'?...'how could she not have known'?...Exactly what I don't want to happen to me.

I kind of feel like maybe I should go and talk to her, let her know she isn't the only one crap like this happens to, but I'm so terrified of blowing my cover that I just don't think I can. I'll leave it for now and see how the day goes. We're not that close, it might be awkward.

So anyway, speaking of awkward, I had dinner last night with Cass and I'm not sure how, but we sort of ended up having an arguament! I'm devastated because Cass is like my oldest friend and I really need her at the moment, but she said some stuff about Mark that really upset me, and I know she's probably just trying to show solidarity by being on my side, but it hurt me so much I snapped and chewed her face off for it!

When I thought about it afterwards I couldn't believe I did that! It's like I'm still defending him and sticking up for him even after everything he's done to me, though I can't think why. But when Cass told me he'd always been a user and that I had always been blind to his behaviour I had to confront her on it...didn't I?

Worse still, she said she never really thought he loved me! Er, why don't you stick a knife through my heart while you're at it sister? Or at least that I'd loved him more. But that's normal isn't it? For one partner to love the other more?
How could we have loved each other equally? Impossible! Just cos Cass thinks she has the perfect relationship with Dave she judges everyone else by the measure of it, which is obviously completely unfair.

She said Mark never did anything nice for me,-but it's not all about money is it? Then she said we never did stuff together (like her and Dave-see what I mean?) but that's just because we didn't like to smother each other-Mark liked his space...well, we both did...that's healthy, right?

Then she told me he had always taken advantage of me, letting me do all of the housework and never helping out! That's not true, sometimes Mark took the bins out for me! Besides, he was old-fashioned like that. He believed men and women had seperate roles and the mans was to earn the dosh while the womans was to 'keep' house (whatever that means). Except, I went out to work too, obviously, but that's modern life for you isn't it? I work because I want to.

She apologised for saying all that stuff but she told me she could hold back no longer. Now that the 'bastard' had dumped me for an 'even bigger eejit' (her words, I swear!) it was time for me to wake up and realise that I'm better off without him! Time to move on and stop moping, time to get myself a life.

I was crushed to find out what she really thought and I fought back because I felt defensive. I said some things about her and Dave that we both know weren't true (they truly are the perfect couple, even in anger I can see that) and we left seperately and not speaking. I feel terrible!

Perhaps she thought it might be a good way to help me to get over Mark, or maybe it really is what she thinks-in which case, why didn't she tell me this before I married him?
Am I right to be upset with her, after all Mark did cheat on me and maybe Cass has a point? I'm so confused right now I don't know where to turn. First I lost my husband, now my best friend! What the hell is happening to me?

Poor Pam probably thinks things can't get any worse...little does she know!

Part 11-poor Pamela!

2009-09-07T08:03:00.000-07:00

Okay, so you know I mentioned once or twice over the last few weeks how much I HATE hen-parties?
Well, I wish I was about to tell you that I've totally changed my opinion...but I'm not!

I was so certain all week that I was just going to 'drop out' of Pamela's hen party proceeding's at the very last minute, but after she roped me in to collect the costumes I felt unable to let her down. My 'guilty' button-something I've suffered with since childhood-is still very much switched to 'ON' and I am inherently unable to upset people or have them dislike me!

Besides, how bad would it have been if all of the girls had turned up in the tackiest bar in town, wearing only fishnets and pink leotards with no bunny ears and tails to finish the outfits? It would have been a catastrophe, that's what! But perhaps no worse than how things actually turned out....

The plan was that all of us hens would arrive at the bar early, dressed in afore-mentioned attire, and I would dish out the ears and tails so that we would be ready when Pamela and her sister Patricia arrived, a little later. And then we'd all dress Pam up like Jessica Rabbit, in a red PVC dress and wig, and the red bunny ears I'd also collected-the usual hen-night 'shenanigans'.

A good theme, you might think. And these things are all about the theme, aren't they?
Except that the PVC dress turned out to be a size or three too small for Pam and it took no less than 47 minutes, half a tonne of talcum powder (haven't a clue where that appeared from-the 80's perhaps?) and some excruciatingly embarrassing positions, to get the bride-to-be into costume!

Poor Pam!

Not that getting to a bar in town at such an early hour on a Saturday evening wearing nothing more than our underwear had been much of a laugh for the rest of us!

Though I had sworn to myself that I'd steer away from the bad alcohol (slammers, shots, cocktails, fish bowls) in order to keep both my mouth and my emotions in check, it wasn't long before I found myself included in a round of tequila slammers, followed by a round of Sambuca's! This wasn't the time or place to abstain from getting drunk, I quickly decided.

In fact, standing in the tackiest bar in town, wearing only tights and pink ears, surrounded by a group of twenty women who I could say I knew in varying degrees from 'fairly well' to 'not at all', and who could talk about nothing but marriage and weddings, I honestly couldn't think of a better time to be drunk!

By the time I'd started sipping the fourth cocktail on the menu (I was working my way through it one by one) the 'Mr. & Mrs.' quiz was over and the stripper had arrived.

Poor Pamela!

Either her sister (who'd made the booking) had a cruel sense of humour, or there had been some kind of mix-up, because instead of the Brad Pitt look-alike we'd all been promised, we were faced with a WOMAN! And not a very attractive one at that! She was in her mid-to-late 50's and considerably over-weight!

'Sorry girls' the stripper-or 'sexy Silvia' as we later found out she was called -apologised, as she began her routine. 'There's been a cock-up with our bookings I think. I'm supposed to be doing a stag party for a second wedding tonight! I was booked by the bride.'

Yes, I could see why.

Don't ask me why she went on to perform her routine, but she did! And poor Pam's face said it all! Gutted! She was having an awful night. She certainly didn't appear to enjoy having Silvia bend her over and spank her buttocks with a cane!
I dread to think how the stag's took the arrival of our 'Brad'!

As a result we all got more and more drunk...and missed our booking for dinner!

Then, after several more shots which included an 'orgasm' and the dreaded 'slippery nipple' Pamela began to talk loudly about how much she loved her 'wonderful' fiance Colin, and how she couldn't wait to get married. I suddenly felt very nauseous and scarily, a bit weepy! Must keep mouth shut and say nothing...repeat after me.

But before I had a chance to say anything, another of Pamela's equally drunken friends piped up with this bombshell:

'You're not the only one...I love him too!'

Everyone in our large group fell silent. Ooops! Someone else who'd had more than one tequila too many it would seem! Turns out the friend has been having a bit of a fling with the groom-to-be, and we were treated to the gory details as Pamela blushed, then fumed, then ran away!

Poor Pamela!

The night was a total disaster but I went home feeling sad, yet strangely comforted by the fact that I am not the only mug in the world!

Even better, I am not the only mug in my office as it turns out...Is that cruel?

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

2009-09-04T08:08:00.000-07:00

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...'

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

2009-09-03T04:08:00.000-07:00

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...

Part 8 -willies, nipples and Naughty Nigel!

2009-09-02T07:32:00.000-07:00

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...

Part 7-in which a monster calls!

2009-08-31T08:34:00.000-07:00

I eventually called my parents on Friday evening after numerous glasses of 'dutch courage'. As predicted mum went MENTAL!

Her first words when I explianed to her that my husband of three years had up-and-left me?...

'What have you done Ruby? Oh, Doreen Wilton is going to love this! Her daughter is getting married in the Grand Palace Hotel next weekend, there are 250 going'.

I failed to compute. But this was typical of my mother. All she would be concerned about is what people would think.

'Your father and I will be over first thing in the morning to try and sort this mess out before it gets out of control'.

'NO MUM....' I screamed down the line as she began to blabber on about doing all she could to rescue her good reputation amongst the ladies guild. But i knew she would come anyway, and I was just too exhausted to argue. I opened a fresh bottle of wine and prepared myself for the day to come....

....Not a great idea! I wasn't exactly prepared to be awoken from my drunken unconciousness by my mother thumping rather unpleasantly on my front door first thing.
'GO AWAY' I wanted to shout, but I knew from experience that resistance was futile.

Within minutes my mother was pacing my livingroom while at the same time firing questions at me (while I lay slumped horizontally on the sofa) like a German officer:

-'Why has he left you'?
-'How many people know about this'?
-'Is there anybody else involved'?

As she asked that last one she looked disapprovingly towards me and waited, already certain in her own mind that this was all my fault. I suppose I really should be grateful for small mercies-at least she wasn't commenting on how messy the place was as she usually did!

When I told her that Mark had left me for another woman and had already been spotted at the theatre with said woman by none other than Minty Badminton she began to hyperventilate!
I didn't rush to her rescue.
And my father-who is commonly known to all friends and aquaintances as 'long suffering'-remained seated and silent.

We were used to her. Used to the drama, the coldness, the lack of any thought or feeling for her own flesh and blood.
But still, when I'm already feeling so rejected and unloved, it would have been nice to have a mother who cared about me, rather than just what the society ladies will think.
What can you do?

You'd think I'd have learnt to get over it by now:

Once, when I was about 14, my mother encouraged me to join the tennis club and become friends with the daughter of a wealthy family of 'standing' who also attended. The girl -Ruthie King-was quite spolit and arrogant and not someone I would have chosen to spend time with, but mother was insistant, telling me it would be good for our social standing if I could get us all invited to dinner.

I was hanging out with this Ruthie girl, against my will obviously, in town one Saturday, window shopping and such, when she was stopped by a security guard in a big department store for shop-lifting!
I mean, shop-lifting-with all the money she had! What was the point?
Naive thing that I was back then, I was in total shock, and when she gave the security guard my mothers name and address instead of her own-winking at me as she did-I said nothing, sure that she was going to get into major trouble! And happy to watch on.

But her clever ingenuity paid off! She must have known my mother better than I did back then because after a few crocodile tears she managed to convince my mother that it was in fact I who had lead her into bad ways, and my mother hardly wasted a minute before agreeing that of course a common guttersnipe such as her own daughter must indeed be the rotten apple here!

She actually begged Ruthie not to tell her parents about the episode for fear that they would stop her seeing me! Refusing point blank to even consider that I might be telling the truth when I protested any involvement.

She never even got her invite to the 'big' house because after that day I refused to go near Ruthie and that was the end of her connection to the family, although she did keep trying to wangle her way in-to no avail.

It was after that day that I simply stopped telling my mother anything about my life, knowing that she would only see the worst anyway, and always blame me for whatever went wrong.

We have never been close.

But for some bizarre reason I seem unable to shake her off completely and still have to put up with her constant judgements and desperate need to be 'someone'. It truly is infuriating but why should I have any better luck in my attemps when my father has not managed to shake her off after 35 years! Poor him!

When she eventually managed to calm down enough to speak again my mother declared that the only possible solution was for me to swallow my pride and take my wayward husband back-for the sake of the family!

I could do nothing but laugh!

'How can I take him back you ridiculous woman'? I screeched, cat-like. 'He bloody well left me'!

Thankfully this seemed to shut her up and without any further time wasted in comforting her only daughter my mother trounced out of my house, determined to 'sort' things before 'everyone' finds out! My father toddled behind her with his tail between his legs! I breathed a sigh of relief but the silence she left in her wake has reminded me of just how very alone I really am...

Part 6-in which i am almost killed by a tin of Scotch Broth!

2009-08-28T06:45:00.000-07:00

The weirdest thing happened to me today.

Well, it was weird until I sat down and thought about it, and then I realised it wasn't quite so weird, just plain bloody annoying! But it just goes to show the length's some people will go to, to get themselves a juicy bit of gossip!

So, I got home from work and realised that I haven't done a shop in almost 2 weeks. I was starving ( it seems my appetite-which did a runner along with my other half-has found it's way back to me-oh joy!) and when I opened the fridge to find some sort of snack to ease my newly reinstated hunger-pangs I was greeted with only an egg -which stunk to high heaven,- a half-eaten tub of mouldy green potato salad and a pack of butter!

Now I'm pretty sure that had I popped these 'ingredients' into a carrier bag and taken them onto the set of 'Ready Steady Cook' the celebrity chef's of the day would have managed to come up with at least 20 different dishes that they could make for me, and every one would have tasted delightful, but I, unfortunately, have always been lacking in the culinery department (could this be the reason Mark has dumped me?) and so I was left with no option. I had to go to the supermarket.

Me and Supermarkets don't get on. I just don't like them. I don't like the fact that I never have a pound coin in my purse for the trolley and so always end up lugging around an over-filled basket, which I have to keep putting on the floor every five minutes for a break. I don't like the way 'they' deliberately put the most expensive varieties in the wrong place on the shelf, with the cheapest price label in front of it-I can almost feel 'them' all sitting in a darkened room above watching me on the in-store security camera with their fingers crossed, whispering repeatedly to themselves 'don't read the label, don't read the label'. Because I never read the label. And I cannot bare the dull, unobtrusive music they play to ease us all into a false sense of relaxation and make us buy things we don't really want or need, purely because we're feeling so chilled out! Add to all that queues and screaming kids and I am transported into my absolute worst night-mare!

But when the cupboard was bare-the hungry woman would do anything!

As I pulled into a parking space in my local Sainsbury's car park I could have sworn I saw a 'friend' of my mothers - Minty Babcock, or Minty Badminton as I like to call her-pulling away in her 4 by 4.
'Thank God', I said silently, thinking that the last thing I needed was to bump into the gestapo in there.
Minty (where do they get these ridiculous names from-I bet a tenner she wasn't christened that) isn't exactly my mother's friend, she's just a woman who is a member of the same baminton club that my mother joined a couple of years ago after my parents retired and bought a nice big detached home on the outskirts of town. Mum has always fancied herself as a bit of a socilate, a bit of a lady who lunches. She's been trying to climb the social ladder for years without much success, and now mixes in circles with the likes of Minty Babcock, who is as fake as a department store Santa and even more of a stuck-up busy-body than my mother has became.

Anyway, there I am, deciding between a frozen chicken dinner for one, or an individual portion of King prawn noodles when from the corner of my eye I spot a figure lurking at the end of the cereal isle, spying on me from behind a box of Special K. I do a double take, thinking that those who may once have been watching me from the darkened room above have taken things too far and are now following me around the floor, sending subliminal messages to me, willing me 'not to read the label'.

I check the price of the Chicken dinner before throwing it into my basket. That's enough of this place for one day I think, and head with haste towards the check-out.

But, just as I'm passing the canned goods section, I swear to God, a tin of Scotch Broth comes flying out from nowhere, hitting me square on the forehead and almost killing me stone dead!

'What the f...'? I scream loudly. But before I can work out what's going on I realize I must be suffering some sort of concussion-induced hallucination because there before me stands Minty Badminton-who I'm certain was leaving the supermarket as I arrived!

She makes sympathetic noises for a moment, pretending not to know who I am. This is no hallucination, I realize, It's actually her.
And then she launches into gushing hugs and kisses as she feign's recognition. Any passers-by would swear we were long lost mother and daughter reunited! Like I said-FAKE! She rarely so much as glances in my direction if we happen to bump into each other, unless I'm with my mother and she's forched to make polite conversation.

I smell a rat!

We make polite conversation for a few minutes...what can I say...? It's the British way of handling things! I'm still feeling a bit confused about the whole episode to be honest...
But then she say's something which helps me to understand exactly what is going on here...

'Gerald and I were at the theatre last night' she volunteers without any build up in conversation.
I think I nodded and said something like 'that's nice'.

Then...

'Don't you like the theatre yourself dear'?

To which I shrug. Where did she get that from-weirdo?

'I don't mind it' I say, not sure where this could be going.

'Oh' dramatic pause. 'It's just that when I saw your husband there with another, er, young lady, on his arm I could only surmise that you mustn't like to go yourself'.

Oh My God!

That's it! I'm caught! Three hours from now and the whole of town will know I've been ditched by my husband after only 3 years of marriage! Not to mention that the first of those to be informed will no doubt be my parents...

Crafty cow! She obviously saw me pulling into the carpark as she was on her way out and decided that she couldn't pass up a MASSIVE gossip opportunity like this and swung around and came back again! Besides, her basket was empty!

What was I to do? Lie, and face up to things at some later stage? Or face the truth, because sooner or later everyone would find out anyway, and when they did they would know I'd been lying.

I decided to bite the bullet-but, -GO ME!- I did it in style.

Faking it good-style, just like she always did, I made sure my whole face radiated with joy when I said:

'Oh Minty, don't tell me you're the last to know! God, Mark and I split up ages ago'.

Then I giggled like a carefree school girl before announcing that I really must dash. As I flounced away from her, trying as hard as I could to hide my solo-chicken meal and the wedding band still gripping my finger, I turned towards her once more and, as casually as I could, I laughed and said:

'I still can't believe you didn't know about that Minty! You must be losing your touch'!

The look of shock on her usually smug face told me I'd managed to get one over on her! YEEHAW!

Well, it's out now, that's for sure. Although if she thinks it's old news Minty might not be so keen to ring around informing her network of nosey parkers!

But no matter what, if Mark's parading around town with his bit-on-the-side stuck to his arm, the news is sure to get out sooner rather than later.

I think it's time to ring my parents...

Part 5-in which the bunny-boiler returns!

2009-08-26T06:54:00.000-07:00

I went back to work today. It wasn't easy but i figured there's only so much Jeremy Kyle and Loose Women a mind can take before it begins to seize-up like an under-exercised muscle. Besides, they won't allow me any more sick pay without a doctor's note and I'm going to need all the cash i can get if i have to buy Mark out of our mortgage!

I haven't told anybody in the office about my 'situation' yet-I'd prefer not to be the main topic of conversation around the water-cooler for a while longer if i can- but i reckon the girls at the desks nearest mine might have worked something out. If not from my panda eye's then definitely from the lack of personal phone calls I've made during the day. They all used to laugh at how often i rang Mark at work, it became a running joke,-my nickname was actually 'bunny-boiler' for a few weeks when i first started! Just harmless fun of course, everyone knows there's nothing wrong with calling your own husband at work, even if it does happen to be 6 or 7 times a day, is there?

Anyway, if they did notice none of them commented. Perhaps they're showing their sensitive sides for once. We'll see how long that lasts...

Office life is as boring as ever. One of the girls-Pamela-is getting married next month. She has been going on about it for ages-you'd swear she's the first person in the world to ever get married!- and is organising her hen night for next weekend. I wasn't really looking forward to it before all this happened, but I'm really dreading it now! I'm furiously trying to come up with an excuse not to go! Why would i want to celebrate marriage? And don't even get me started on the wedding...

I found it really hard to concentrate all morning and kept checking my phone or flicking onto face book to see if i had any messages from Mark. None of course. But i just can't help checking.

Thank God Cass rang and asked if I'd like to meet up for lunch!

We met at a pub just around the corner and, feeling depressed and in need of a treat i had a glass of wine...and dessert! As we tucked into pasta and garlic bread i remembered my note to myself from the other night-to ask Cass what she'd meant when she said Mark had never been good enough for me. She blushed when i brought it up, which was odd, i thought. Cass doesn't embarrass easily. And she was quite snappy in her reply!

'I just meant he's never really been there for you 100%, has he' she bristled? 'And i think you're better off without him'.

Puzzled, i asked her what she'd meant but she brushed me off with some silly story about how, when I'd been too sick to go on this weekend trip to Amsterdam Mark and i had booked years ago, he had left me at home and gone anyway with one of his mates instead. I mean, talk about petty...

'But i told him to' i protested, which was the truth, although i had felt a bit put-out when he didn't refuse. And i still can't work out why I'm defending him now!

'Whatever' Cass replied, as if she couldn't be bothered to talk about it, and then she changed the subject! Maybe she and Dave had had a fight? Maybe there's something in the air...?

Now I'm struggling to get through the afternoon, what with the big lunch and accompanying glass of wine! We're not even supposed to drink during lunch hour and I'm terrified I'll be caught out! I just hope it hasn't loosened my tongue! At some point i know I'll have to admit I'm going through a 'separation', or whatever we call it these days...but i think I'll just wait until there's an even bigger scandal in here to take the lime-light away from me! That's one thing about this place...a scandal is never far away.

Part 4-in which i sing 'my heart will go on...'

2009-08-25T02:08:00.000-07:00

Ugh! I've woken up today feeling terrible. My head is throbbing so hard it must be visible to the naked eye. Or is that my heart? I'm so confused and fuzzy-minded it's difficult to tell.

The girls came over.
After my phone-call from Mark on Friday i rang my best mate Cass, who, although shocked at what i had to tell her, didn't seem as surprised as i was that my marriage was over. I couldn't quite work that one out.
Cass rang Lola and within the hour they had arrived on my doorstep armed with supplies of Vodka and wine, and enough chocolate to resolve the third world's hunger crisis (if only it's nutritional content were of any benefit- obviously).

Lola rubbed my back while i wept openly like a child, and Cass kept my glass topped up so that i didn't get thirsty from all the tears and talking. We all called Mark a bastard. They're such good mates.

Telling them about being dumped was so embarrassing, especially since Cass has been married to a really great bloke called Dave for what seems like forever, and Lola has a different rich and handsome fella on her arm every weekend!

But that's what mates are for, they reassured me, and after a while (and a few voddy's) i began to feel better.

'He was never good enough for you' Cass told me as she began to catch up in the alcohol stakes. I wasn't sure what she meant by this: I'd always thought all my friends loved Mark as much as i did! And though I'm sure i asked (something tells me i may have been quite repetitive in my enquiries), i was way too drunk to remember what her reasons were! I must make a note somewhere to ask her that question again when we're both sober.

Lola blurted out at some point that relationships are for losers and even Cass, being the great friend that she is, agreed with her! I think we all toasted to it actually!

The girls stayed over (there was talk of hitting a club but, flaked out on my living room floor at about 2.30, we all decided that we are way too old for that sort of thing and topped up our glasses of what i think had sometime ago turned into wine). I woke fully dressed and still lying on the floor at sometime on Sunday afternoon! There were chocolate stains all over my t-shirt.

It felt strangely liberating to wake up a mess, on the living-room carpet, surrounded by the girls! It had been a long time since those days and memories of my teenage years came flooding back. Since meeting Mark i had always made sure to clean off my make-up before bedtime, and always made sure i got into the right bed! I had somehow, without noticing it was happening, become sensible. I had become old!

We ordered take-away and the girls stayed over again. They refused to leave me alone at the weekend. I was so grateful to them because i knew Lola must have blown off a hot date and that Cass would surely be missing Dave! There's no way i could have spent a whole weekend away from Mark! Well, when i had a choice i mean!

Sunday night was a tiny bit more civilised. The girls wanted to know what i was going to do now...about the house, about the other things Mark and i had shared...about getting a divorce...
But i didn't want to talk about any of it.

Instead i got drunk again! And sang the songs from movies like Titanic and Dirty Dancing! Then i called Mark a bastard some more. Then I tore up some pictures i found in a drawer of me and Mark on holidays last year! And then i vomited! Does that mean I've got him out of my system now?

Cass and Lola went home yesterday morning, with sore heads admittedly, but back to their lives, back to normal.

I cried myself to sleep with a glass of vodka in my hand and woke up soaked in the stuff and feeling like this. Ugh!

I'm grateful for the interlude but it didn't change anything...except that i now have a broken heart and a throbbing head! Ugh!

Part 3-in which he wants to talk....

2009-08-21T01:39:00.000-07:00

You'll be proud to hear i didn't cave in. I managed to resist the urge to pick up the hand set and dial his oh-so familiar number.

I didn't have to.

He called me!

If I'm honest I'd have to say it was looking like i was going to call him. By 6.30pm I'd already downed two and a half glasses of red wine and was perched animatedly on the edge of the sofa with the remote control in one hand and my phone in the other.

'When 'The Simpson's' is over I'm gonna do it'! I had affirmed aloud, although i really had no clue what Homer and Co. were up to in this episode, so lacking in concentration as i was, just before the shrill 'brrrriing' of the land-line pierced my thoughts.

His mobile number showed up on the screen and i froze. I swear i stopped breathing for at least a minute! In my anxiety i switched the volume on the television up to 'full' by mistake, and, as i hit the answer button on the receiver and said 'hello', Mark was greeted with a chorus of the theme from the 'Itchy and Scratchy Show'. It used to make him laugh.

'What the hell's going on there?' were his unexpected first words. Not exactly what i had been hoping for.

I explained that it was nothing, just the telly. My heart skipped a beat. His voice! It was so real, so familiar. It was as if I'd been waiting my whole life to hear it.

'Ruby-we need to talk'

Of course we did, i agreed. And relief flooded through me like a river bursting through a weak damn. At last he had come to his senses! I'd always known he would. He was my Mark and i knew him better than anyone. Thank God it was all over!

But then he threw me a curve-ball.

'We're going to have to decide what we'll do about the house' he seemed to be saying.

In my mind i was answering. 'Well, we'll live in it of course-or were you thinking we could move?. But i didn't speak.

'Ruby, i can't afford to keep paying half of the mortgage there and pay rent here. Do you want to sell up, or buy me out'?

And they were my choices laid bare. As simple as that. After five years together, three years of marriage, we had somehow come to this. And the choices really weren't mine.

He was going, there was nothing i could do. And although it didn't make any sense-suddenly it did make sense!

God! It's over!

He agreed to allowing me some time to think-how very gracious of him!

I hung up the phone and took another big slug of wine.

I had held off from name calling for too long now...it was time to ring the girls.....

Part 2-in which i wonder what Jeremy Kyle would say...

2009-08-20T04:27:00.000-07:00

So it's been a week. Who'd have thought a week could feel so long? For the last ten years or so-since i was old enough to realise each day counts- each and every week of my life has wizzed past me faster than a greyhound chasing a stuffed Rabbit, but not this one.

I'm not sure how i got through it.

But it seems i did.

I'm not sure i can face another one though...

I haven't really left the house all week. I went into work for the first couple of days but it was just too hard to get up and face people after spending every night crying, screaming or just lying motionless for hours staring up at the ceiling (and the loose light fitting that he never got around to fixing since the day we moved in...).

I called in sick mid-week. It was easier than having to explain why i suddenly look like a drug-addict.

Technically i figure it isn't really a lie-i am sick-love sick or sick of life, or something like that. Take your pick.

I still haven't told anybody he's gone. I just can't bring myself to! What if he comes back? Then i'll just look really stupid won't i? Why bother humiliating myself if it can be avoided? I'll just give it a few more days...

Besides, i know my parents will just say 'we told you so', and my friends will call him names i'm not sure i really want to hear yet. It's what i always do when friends break up.

My resolve about not calling him is slowly weakening too. I mean, if he is going to come back surely one of us needs to break the ice? We're in limbo at the moment and he's probably feeling really silly. If i can just get him to talk to me i'm sure he will realise it's all just been a mistake and we can go back to how we were. Someone has to make the first move don't they?

I'm sitting here now watching crappy day-time television wondering if i should call his mobile and tell him i forgive him. I mean, looking at what some of the guests on the Jeremy Kyle Show have been up to makes him seem like an angel! But would Jeremy agree? Or would he tell me i'm worth more than that...?

I feel like an alcoholic trying not to have a drink. It's all i can think about! Well, him, not drink, obviously.

If every day is going to be like this surely i should save myself years of torture and just give in now and call him...

Part 1-The beginning, where he tell's me it's the end...

2009-08-19T06:48:00.000-07:00

He says he doesn't want to be married to me anymore!

He says he doesn't love me anymore.

I'm not really used to him talking about his feeling's to be honest, so the whole thing has come as quite a shock. To say the least...

It's been almost a week-6 days, 2 hours and 34 minutes to be precise-since he announced over a Chicken Chasseur that i don't make him happy anymore and that he's managed to find someone else that does.

At first i just thought it must be some sort of idiotic joke! You know the sort that men find funny, and that make women cry? Not that he was given much to joking around-well, not lately anyway.

But my startled brain could find no other reason for him to say such things. And so i swallowed down the lump of dry poultry which had lodged itself awkwardly in my throat, took an extra large swig of red wine and began to laugh. All the while keeping my eye's fixed firmly on his face.

I noted that although i was creased up with laughter, his expression remained unfaulteringly serious.

'You're serious' i said, once i had managed to compose myself and knew it to be true. He nodded.

That's when i cried.

I have been crying for the last 6 days, 2 hours and 45 minutes. In between sleeping and long periods of not eating. He has long since gone. I tried to stop him...

'But we're married' i screamed, as my poor brain began to slowly absorb what he was actually saying.

'I'm unhappy-i don't want to be married anymore'

Well I've been unhappily half-a-stone over-weight for the last 18 months and i don't want to be anymore but i can't just get up and leave myself, can i? -i thought!

'Is it because I've gotten fat?' I asked, distraught.

He shook his head.

'You're not fat Ruby. I just don't love you anymore'. -A glimmer of hope...he still finds me attractive!

'I'll forgive an affair...in fact i don't even want to know about it,...just please, please don't leave me...'
I know, i know, begging is never attractive, but what could i do?

That's when he got up to leave and i noticed the suitcase waiting by the front door ominously, like a brown paper package left unattended in a train station.

He was really going to do this, he was actually going to leave me.

We hadn't even finished the Chicken Chasseur!

I know i said a few lines ago that begging is never attractive but when you're desperate you'll try anything...and i was desperate. I won't go into too much detail-i cringe at the very thought of my behaviour when i think of it now to be honest!-but suffice it to say that there was actual grabbing of clothing and much snot mixed with my abundant tears. Not my finest hour!

It didn't work.

He still went.

Bastard!

At least that's what i call him in my angrier moments.

Other times I'm so filled with love for him that i cannot begin to blame him for what he has done. During those periods i manage to convince myself that I'm the one to blame-i let myself get too fat, i sometimes refused to have sex with him, i stopped saying 'i love you' in bed at night. But then, so did he...

It takes all the strength i have left (and believe me i was only a weakling to begin with) to stop myself from calling his mobile at least a million times a day. It's only the fear that SHE might be the one to answer which holds me back...

So here i am. Thirty one years old, back to square one.

Alone.

So what am i gonna do now...?