Tag Archives: Dan

The Plan

self help

Greetings Fellow Bloggers

Now the ash has settled on the explosive disappointment of the non-weekend in Edinburgh, I’ve had time to formulate some killer moves in my road to a better, healthier Dan love-free future.

The genius plan is as follows:

1 – Cut off all contact with the ubiquitous Dan Burke (see below footnote)

2 – Invest in some stellar self help books that will help me get to know and understand the squalling mess that is Magdeline Adams a little better. I’ve always poo poo-ed self books as silly didactic rubbish – but they have to be up on the best seller lists for some reason haven’t they? I’m starting with ‘Power of Now’ – look’s interesting and Oprah liked it – how wrong could it be?!

3 – Treat myself a little more. The struggle to earn and eat and pretend that I’ve still got an acting career buried under a rock somewhere leaves very little time for me to actually do stuff I want to do. This comes the ambition to take myself out for a date every week. Who needs men anyway.

4 – Who needs men indeed – but maybe the pursuit of a new one would help me forget the old? Hence comes plan sub section 5 – open myself out to prospect that one day, somehow, I might actually allow myself to love someone who is not Dan Burke. The first step of this is to try out internet dating. I’ve always balked at it in the past – but new me, new rules.

5 – Find some way to be creative. Call me crazy but I think that in part my obsession with Dan, and consequently with my love life or lack of it  – is due in part to the fact that most days what I do is pretty mundane. I’m an actress for feck’s sake – I love drama – and if I don’t get it I create it. Not an attractive attribute i know – but at least I admit it. Whenever I’ve done something that truly engages me – mostly when I’m in a play, my need to be loved and desired by someone else rapidly disintegrates and I feel much more content with being just purely, simply, wholly me. I respect myself more so it doesn’t matter as much that I don’t have someone standing next to me stroking my ego for me. So – a simple solution – get that creative verve back and suck up that self respect. This blog helps – but isn’t quite enough… I’m thinking of doing a course – maybe painting or writing… plus I’ve got a great idea for a play…

So there we have it – a fabulous five step plan.

No excuse me whilst I go and read up on a bit of pseudo buddhism and buy a new notebook (is there anything more exciting than a new notebook?)

Wish me luck!

M xx

* Footnote to Step 1

I’m aware that cutting Dan out of my life isn’t the friendliest move. I’m one of his closest friends and I plan to remove myself without explanation. It’s not his fault I feel the way he doesn’t after all.

So here – where he will never read it – is an apology. Who knows – maybe one day I’ll tell him about this blog and he’ll sift through all the pseudonyms and read the story I was always too scared to tell him.

I’m sorry Dan – I’m sorry for needing to be selfish and sacrificing our friendship to move me past this point in my life. I’ve got stuck here – and that in no way is your fault – apart from you having the audacity to be as gorgeous as you are of course. I wish things were different – I wish you loved me like I love you, or I wish I could look into your eyes and see only the fantastic friend you are instead of all the things you are not. I hope one day I’ll become unstuck and we can be friends again. I’m doing this now, because I need to but also because you’re happy and I’m hoping you won’t need me for a while. If you do ever need me I hope I’ll be strong enough to offer what you need, and if I’m not and I have to pull away then too – well then I’m sorry for that as well.

I hope we have more and more years of friendship together, I hope this isn’t the end, I hope I’ll be back before you’ve even noticed I’d gone away – a better securer wholer person who’s ready to accept you for what you are

My best friend.

Till then compadre,

Mags x

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the end of the story

oh yes - she's back.

oh yes – she’s back.

‘So how did it go?’ I hear you all cry! Did you tell him? what did he say?!

In the words of Maria Von Trapp and all those frighteningly shrill lederhosed children- the beginning is a very good place to start…

We clambered on to the 9.30am Kings Cross to Waverley and settled in for the long haul. I needn’t have worried about being lacking in wit or charm as Dan was suffering from an horrific hangover and wouldn’t have noticed if id have had a labotomy or my head and been replaced with a pumpkin. This meant he spent much of the five hour train journey as a snoring unconcious lump. I pushed down the disappointment already bubbling inside me that my imagined cider sharing, picnic eating, landscape coo-ing idyll of a train journey had been instantly made such short sharp shrift of. Instead I buried my  head in my book (The Book Thief – it’s very good if you haven’t read it!) for the solitary hours.

Thankfully by the time we reached Edinburgh Dan had managed to sleep off the worst of his hangover and was immediately possessed with an insatiable hunger for greasy food to replenish his damaged gut. A fried breakfast and a chirpier Dan later we headed to our hotel.

My god I love hotels – everything about them – the perky politeness of reception, the thin peculiarly patterned carpets (which is Scotland seem to be standard issue thistles) and that fresh pine smell of relaxation and decadence. Hotels are all the more alluring as I can ill afford to ever stay in one, so it always marks a truly special occasion. Dan had insisted on picking up the whole tab for this one – as it was booked before he’d been dumped and I was doing him a favour flanking him at a wedding where he knew very few people. I didn’t protest for too long – the train fare, and the very important new dress that I was going to stun Dan with, had emptied my bank account – plus an advert that he’d done a few years ago had just been re-released thus sprinkling him with, effectively, free money. Lucky bastard.

Two nights in a four star hotel that the man I was in love with was treating me to. If there wasn’t so much going on between the spaces of that lovely collection of words – how truly blissfully they would patter on to the page.

I sat with our bags in an impossibly plush chaise longue sipping a glass of complimentary freshly squeezed orange juice whilst Dan went and checked us in. He bounded over a couple of minutes later,

‘Hey – excellent news – I managed to trade our King size room into a twin – so you won’t have to have me drunkenly snoring and drooling on you for two nights’

My heart drooped a little further as disappointment number two hit the deck

‘Great’ I said, a smile frozen on to my face

Any (admittedly thought police dictated illegal) fantasy that we might have rolled on to each other drunkenly in the night and ‘accidentally’ fallen into some delicious passion burst with a flaccid belch. To be honest, that was less disappointing than the fact I suddenly realised I had been really looking forward to just simply waking up next to Dan. I could forgo all that messy passion just be able to steal some looks at him before he woke up, our limbs nestling beside each other for warmth. This is all much harder to do when we’re on opposite sides of the room.

The wedding was at 1pm the next day so for the rest of Friday we’d planned a boozy crawl of the burg’s best public houses. Three pubs down and I couldn’t help but notice that Dan seemed somewhat distracted, he was glued to his phone and every conversation I tried to start was punctuated by vibrations form his phone followed by minutes of frantic thumb tapping from him.

“Dan you rude bastard, put your phone away and talk to me – I’m rapidly building a fucking complex”

“You’ve already got more complexes than Freud’s back catalogue Maggie dearest.”

“Well be careful because I’m quickly developing another one. What could be possibly more important than beer or me?” I said with a hopefully cheeky and engaging smile.

A sheepish guilty look suddenly gathered in Dan’s face, and I swear to god he went a little pink.

“Daaaan…. what is it?”

“No, you’ll be angry with me.”

I raised my eyebrows and gave him a stern teachery ‘don’t you give me any shit Dan Burke’ look…

“It’s Zara”

Oh great. 

“It’s who?” (with a heavily laid on tone of disbelief)

“Zara – she’s been texting all evening”

“Zara – whore bitch from hell who dumped you for a himbo Zara?”

“Hey… Easy Mags – don’t call her that, she’s alright you know”

“Dan -actually I was quoting you. We spent a full drunken evening discussing the finer points of her utter whorishness and general elligibility for bitch of the century – or has your memory finally been addled by all the booze?”

“Yeah well I was angry – I needed to vent, you know.”

I sighed, already knowing the answer to the question I was just about to ask

“So what’s going on?”

He darted his eyes down and started concentrating very hard at turning a beer mat on the table,

“Well, we’re kind of, sort of… seeing each other again.”

“Since when?”

“Since a couple of weeks”

“Well why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d react like this”

I couldn’t help it – I sighed again – hating myself for sounding so bloody didactic.

“Oh Dan”

A fat smelly silence fell between the two of us.

“Well look, no actually, I don’t think its great news – I think she treated you incredibly badly – and I don’t trust her for a second not to do it again. And – and I…”

and I love you and I would do anything for you and the thought of you with someone else makes me feel sick to the very base of my stomach…

“and I … well its bloody embarrassing – I spent an evening bitching about her and telling you about how much I never liked her and now she’s, she’s what  – your girlfriend?”

“Yes”

“And she’s not seeing that, that – what was his name?”

“Jeremy.”

“She’s not seeing Jeremy anymore?”

“No”

“Right. Well – good.”

A longer pause.

“And you’re happy?”

He suddenly grinned like an overexcited school boy.

“Yeah – god yeah Mags – I don’t want to jinx it after last time but I’m, I’m so happy. You know how long I’ve liked her. She’s such a fucking force of nature, she’s so sparky and alive and confident and beautiful – I mean GOD she’s beautiful – isn’t she beautiful?”

A leaden tone of acceptance now settled itself into my voice.

“Yep – she’s beautiful”

“And I know you probably hate her right now, but she’s such a gorgeous girl and when you get to know her properly I just know you’ll love her too – I know you will. You and me are too alike – we feel the same about everything”

Oh dear Dan if only you realised how far that was from being the truth. 

I forced a smile.

“If you’re happy then I’m happy. I mean it, I’m really happy for you”

A realisation dawned.

“But if you’re back together then why am I here and not her – surely you’d rather have a weekend long shagathon with her?”

“Maggie – I’m not a complete wanker – I’d already asked you and well – I didn’t want to mess you around”

Thanks Dan – thanks for nothing

“Plus you’d already bought your train ticket…”

So that conversation pretty much tells you all you need to know about my much hyped weekend away. Even my palest tamest hopes were blown out of the water. Dan spent pretty much the entire time surgically attached to his phone and I just let him get on with it, too flattened to exhibit any kind of indignation at the fact he’d dragged me up to Scotland at my own expense to twiddle my thumbs whilst he was making sweet love to an iphone. The wedding was fine (it was one of Dan’s old school friends) but to be honest watching two people tie the knot was the last thing I felt like doing with my heart as heavy as it was.

God I’m such a fool.

There was I bankrupting myself on a pretty dress to impress Dan and whiling a week away fantasising about all the quasi romantic moments we were set to have together whilst he was loved up with another girl, irritated that he had to bring someone else on his romantic weekend away out of a misplaced sense of duty.

Needless to say – any plans to tell him how I felt catapulted themselves out of the nearest window. I couldn’t handle feeling any more stupid than I already did.

This weekend did make something clear however. I can’t go on feeling like this. Loving Dan has broken my heart over and over again. Very obviously it’s not his fault – a combination of my fear and my lack of confidence has kept me trapped in this unloved symbiosis for far too long. So I’m going to do something about it.

I’m just not altogether sure what that is yet…

Any words of wisdom would be great.

M xx

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Scotlands calling

Edinburgh

Oh dear god I’m excited. I can bearly write I’m so distracted by deep coursing wonderful fantasties of what this weekend could bring.

In less than twenty four hours I will be on a train with my favourite person in the whole universe ready to tear up the country to beautiful beautiful Edinburgh where we spend two whole nights cohabiting a four star double bed.

A Scottish wedding weekend with Dan – what could be more perfect?

The anticipation is so great that I actually feel a little nervous about meeting him tomorrow. I’m scared that I’ll get some weird version of first date nerves – that I’ll get all tounge tied and stupid mouthed and lose all the scathing wit he loves me for…

But that is silly, really silly, because this is not a first date – not by any stretch of the imagination. This weekend is a platonic expedition where, yes fun and japes may be had, but any kind of hope of romance is to be expelled at all costs.

I have been on severe damage limitation thought police duty all week. Unless I’m strict my wandering mind takes full license to wander in to delicious fantasies of Dan telling me he wanted me to come to Scotland with him to get a chance to tell me how he feels, of a cool moonlit walk down the burg’s winding streets, hand in hand followed by meaningful look and a fall into each other arms in a passionate embrace. A long sunday climb up to Arthurs seat where Dan would sit me down where Arties arse was once at, kneel before me and …..

Whoooaaaah. See I’m a bloody liability.

None of this is going to happen. I know this only with the certainty that five years of being embroiled in the ups and downs of this unrequited love affair can bring.

However I am flirting with another dangerous possibility. The possibility of being honest with my best friend. There’s a revolutionary thought. My love for Dan is bittersweet – a warm blanket to wrap myself up in, and a tormentor that continually scratches away at my warmest and gooiest insides. The tormentor wreaks much more havoc than the blanket could ever soothe so all in all the balance needs to be addressed. I’m terrified with admitting the truth of my feelings to Dan in case I lose his friendship – but his friendship is also the very thing that’s pulling me apart.

So I should tell him. I know that’s the sensible option – the good, mature option. But up till now I’ve been too scared.

But I’ve decided that I will do it. This weekend. If it feels right.

Oh god.

Wish me luck.

M xxx

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