Happy Monday all you great burly invisible lot – I know there are some of you – my shiny word press bar chart tells me so. I’m going to ignore the likelihood that you are in fact in an html devouring spammerator that is deploying clever tactics to get me to visit suspect websites; instead I’m imagining you as a fresh faced friendly thing sitting in front of your computer screen with a steaming hot mug of coffee and for some reason interested in the mind meanderings of a bordering on insane London single girl.
So hello you lovely caffeine influenced thing – welcome to my Monday – I hope you’re enjoying yours.
Positive Maggie is here to stay for a wee while it seems.
Had a great weekend free of work and not bogged down by the guilty conscience of being lacking in work. Saw my Best Friend Love on Saturday. I’m going to have to give me a name, Best Friend Love sounds too damn sappy and BFL looks like some kind of builders workmate – how about Dan, Dan the man.
Dan’s been seeing a new girl for the past few weeks – someone he met doing a play a few months ago (sound familiar?!) He held a strongly lit torch for her right from the get go. I’ve endured hours of hearing about how beautiful and clever and funny and talented she is which, inevitably, made me want to dive screaming into the nearest steaming crevice instead of donning the obligatory ‘go get ’em’ smile that I wear whenever Dan tells me about his latest crush. So eventually – around a month ago – she returns all of his advances out of the blue and bish bash bosh they’re an item. I’d have been happy for the love sick puppy if I wasn’t so eaten up and regurgitated inside with righteous jealousy.
I’ve only met her – Zara – a few times – once at Dan’s play and once a fortnight ago at a friend’s party where they spent the evening digesting each others faces. Now I know I’m hugely biased and not the best judge of character in this scenario, and I did try and like her, I promise I tried – but inevitably I came away thinking she was a bit of a bitch. She is VERY pretty – in every way I’m not. Teeny tiny delicate which instantly made me very uncomfortable – being a strapping tall thing myself (5’11”) small people tend to scare me a little. Scare is probably too strong – they just make me feel like a big gallumphing elephant creature with inhumanly large feet and hands and no elegance whatsoever, not a shred. So there she is in all her annoying petiteness with glistening luxurious thick brown hair which makes my blonde frizz look like an accident at a candy floss stall, and piercing green eyes that look straight through me and tell me I don’t deserve to even register on her radar. But it wasn’t just me she looked at like an odious swamp thing, every human in that room not in possession of a penis got shot down by either a look of total disinterest or a scathing shot of disdain. I won a smile from her when Dan introduced me. When I arrived they were straddled on the sofa lips already locked in for the long haul, I busied my self by drinking a lot of wine very quickly and pretending to be totally engaged in a deadening conversation with some bloke about his jobdesperately trying not to look at the PDA flagrantly taking place on the sofa whilst, much like a car wreck, my disobediant eyes kept finding their way back there. Bad eyes. When Dan came up for air and caught sight of me ‘not looking’ at him he jumped up with his gorgeous huge grin on his face and bounded over to me
‘Maggie – you’re here! You’ve got to meet Zara’ and he put his arm around me and bundled me towards her leaving the stock broker looking a little confused. I steadied myself repeating the words ‘Be nice, be nice, be nice’ over and over in my head when Dan leant over and whispered in my ear’
‘Isn’t she gorgeous!’
‘mmmmmmmm’ I assented, though it really wasn’t a question.
So there we stood Dan’s lovely long arm around my shoulders, me frozenly smiling down at this pixen beauty still draped on the sofa whilst trying not to appear to be too obviously breathing in the heavy and familiar smell of the man I’d spent the last five years deeply in love with.
‘Zara – this is Maggie – one of the best women I’ve ever met’ he said – grinning at me with a best friend’s complicity.
I went for it: ‘Hi Zara – I saw you in Titus a little while back – you were really great’
She has one of those mouths whose place of rest is a permanent scowl, as her cold green eyes met mine at that moment I saw nothing – no spark of interest – no good natured desire to be genuinely interested in the best friend of the bloke she’d been chewing on. The corners of her mouth curled into a stiff and impoverished smile,
She replied in a flattened voice that essentially told me
I’m not interested in you human with breasticles, do not try and engage me in conversation, do not talk to my boyfriend, do not ask me to remember your name, and do not pass go.
Then she grabbed out for Dan’s hand and said in a syrupy sweet girly voice
‘Hey Danny boy, will you take me to the kitchen to get another drink sweetie….’
And so they disappeared. I watched her with fascination for the rest of the party prowling round the room, when not whacking out tonsil hockey with my best friend, being giggly and flirty and strokey with every man in the room, and totally dismissive and cool to every woman. After enough wine, I stopped watching her and fell into inappropriate behaviour with a regrettable man in a bathroom, but you already know all about that now don’t you.
I hate this breed of girl, the kind that chooses to ignore a good 50% of the world’s population because they don’t offer the adulation and sexual return that so obviously is the sole basis of her self esteem. Any one who writes off another person on the strength of their particular collection of sexual organs is just downright shallow surely.
So I was left a little conflicted – the poorer part of me took some snide glee from the fact that Dan’s new girlfriend was a bit of a bitch, it would have been too much to bear if she’d been a real magnanimous gorgeous thing on top of being so beautiful. But the bigger, person who loves Dan unreservedly, part of me was a little concerned. Someone so involved with themselves and so uninterested in getting to know his friends that they rock up to a party where she’s surrounded by them and flirts with everyones boyfriend and disregards every girl – surely can’t be a good long term promise for my friend.
And she wasn’t. I met Dan on Saturday to soothe a battered ego and a bruised heart. She’d texted him the night before to say that she’d been seeing another bloke (from the same play believe or not), and she’d decided that he was more bankable than our Dan so she wouldn’t need to see him anymore thank you very much.
Dan was sad but philosophical about it all and after a few beers he seemed more like his old self and we had a good, funny, sozzled evening.
At the end of the night he walked me to my bus stop and waited with me till it arrived. It was freezing so he had his arm around me and his hand was tucked into the pocket of my coat. I awkwardly rested my head on his shoulder, awkward as he’s only an inch or so taller than me so in persuing the picture of model intamacy I got a nasty crick in the neck.
“Oh Maggie. We’re bloody crap at this aren’t we?”
“The whole love thing.”
I felt myself stiffen and resisted the urge to say the obvious.
“Maybe we’re just not meant to be in relationships”
“I’ve always got you!”, He said with a playful elbow dig to my ribs, “What on this stupid blue earth would I do without you?”, and with that he destroyed the lovers photo opportunity by releasing his hand from my pocket and tousling my hair like I was a golden retriever rather than a woman standing there with her heart dissolving. Just call me Rex.
“Hey you know what we should do?”
Forget everything and everyone else, passionaltely kiss till dawn then elope to a seculded life on a Hebridean isalnd??!
“We should make a pact – if we’re not with anyone by 35 we should totally give up on the whole rat race and settle for each other.”
The word tore through me like Jaws did the smaller boat.
So there it was – the best friends pact. As far as I’m concerned the totally passionless kiss of death.
Why – I hear you ask – isn’t this a good thing – you just have to spend seven years of waiting and gently sabotouring Dan’s relationships till you reach your love nirvana, to which I would recommend you go and watch a good compendium of romantic comedies and/ or stories of the emitionally unrequited. The pact girl NEVER gets the guy.
What I wanted was for Dan to hold me and whisper in my ear that all those girls he’s wasted time shagging don’t even begin to hold a candle against his blaze of passion for me, I wanted him to tell me he spends a good proportion of every waking hour thinking of me, I want him to tell me how he dreams of the day when we would finally with get it together and make good on all these years of waiting. You see, if I had a backbone or any shred of courage then those are exactly the words that I would say to him. I would not, under any circumstance, ever ever ever suggest one day when devoid of all other hope we might be forced to settle for each other.
I’m not totally insane. I’m fully aware that he doesn’t feel for me the ways do for him, but when we’re together and we laugh and we share and we finish each other sentences and sit squished next to each other taking comfort from the other ps presence, I kid myself that maybe, hidden under all those other women, he just might. That maybe, like me, he’s just scared of fucking it all up.
His sad little proposition blew such hopeless thoughts out of the water.
I smiled weakly.
“Naaaaaah. I’m taken I’m afraid. I’m already promised to Paul”
“But he’s gay”
“Well he wouldn’t want to have sex with you”
“Well neither would you”, I couldn’t help but let a bit of bitterness leak into my voice, but followed it up with a coy smile to disguise any real feelings that he might be able to decipher
“Maggie Adams, thats absolute rubbish. I would totally do you.”
And with that I felt a little better.
Plus I now have an exciting trip to look forward to. The new absence of Zara on the scene meant that he asked me to be his plus one at a wedding up in Scotland next month. He’d already booked a posh hotel, I suppose with the thinking that they’d be lots of highland sex on the menu. I’m not allowing myself to fantasise too much, but i’m imagining open fires, whiskeys and…. well you know.
In reality we’ll get lathered, he’ll try to pull a bridesmaid and I’ll find myself being inappropriate in the loos. It is my forte after all.
In other news. My audition is this Wednesday… Wish me luck. The initial joy has passed and been replaced with good old fashioned terror, but god darn it, I’m going to do everything I can to land this job.
I’ll let you know how it goes!
Positive Maggie xxx