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

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

Why am I so bloody weak?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'You look well'.

'Thank you. So do you'. Cough.

'How's work'?

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

'Oh, boring. Same as ever'.

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

You get the idea. It was awful!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I had three.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 8 -willies, nipples and Naughty Nigel!

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...