Hola!
Gone.
I just signed my house away for a year to a stranger. My tennant is moving in on Friday. I may now have money for shoes but still, it was a damn hard thing to do. I really loved my house.
How come my life never moves slowly? Three weeks ago I woke up with my boyfriend in my bed after making meatballs in my kitchen. Now it´s all gone, and I am sitting in an internet cafe in Spain, with my whole life in boxes pondering whether or not to sleep with a policeman ex-boyfriend or not.
Man this is hard. I feel very very very lonely today and I can only blame myself... Well, for some of it...
It´s going to be fine. No, it´s going to be great.
Really great.
Booty Call
When I travelled America the time I didn't spend with my cowboy husband was spent with a boy called Brendan. Brendan was six foot two, Brendan has a body to die for, Brendan carried my backpack, Brendan cracked the best jokes, Brendan was also a womanising fuckwit, but for a few weeks he was my womanising fuckwit so I didn't care. The time we didn't spend laughing we spent fighting. From the east to the west coasts or America. I called him a user, a flirt and a directionless twat. He called me a spoilt, pretentious blonde who was up my own ass. I think we were both probably quite right. When we weren't flighting or shouting then we would usually be in bed.
It was explosive.
After three weeks I waved him off at LAX as he headed to Austalia. I didn't cry, in fact - I didn't mind saying goodbye (I was exhausted!). What we had had together was simply a chemical reaction when we get too close to each other. In short, I fancied him rotten. Then I started going out with Jk. Jk was the anti-Brendan, kind, sweet, sensitive and as you know he broke my heart. Brendan is no heart-breaker (although he'd so like to be) because my heart has never been involved. In short, Brendan was the worlds best holiday fling.
Oh, get to the point Daisy!!
Last night I was sitting in the little-white-bar by the sea with Tree and my phone bleeped.
Brendan: Hello sexy, long time no see - want to meet up?
Daisy: I'm in Spain babe.
Brendan: When are you back in London? I really want to see you....
Daisy: Aren't you married or a father yet?
Brendan: Not even close... but I am a policeman
Daisy: Oh my god.
Brendan: Yep. When are you back? I want to show you my uniform.
Now, that is what I call timing.
The year of the Grown-Up (TM)? Oh, give me a break.
Here comes the cavalry...
It turns out that sunbathing, swimming and revising alone with a broken heart isn't quite the good idea that it seemed. I do have great friends here, but they are night owls and only come out to play at 10pm so I am spending long hot days in my own company. I seem to be dwelling on the broken heart far more than the history of the British Empire and it's not making me happy.
*Saying that, I am amazingly tanned*
So I called some buddies and next week 3 of my closest friends are coming to stay with me. The Doctor has an equally broken heart and is yearning for sunshine and pretty Spanish men, CD wants to buy cheap cigarettes to sell at festivals and then there is Jay. Jay is just the best cuddle in Europe. He was my flatmate, my buddy and 9 years ago I thought he may be the love of my life. He is one of the few people who takes the piss out of me and gets away with it (saying that I will be swimming furiously to rid myself of my post break-up chocolate-binge flab - after all, why make it easy for him?).
These are wonderful people who have blessed my life for years and years and know me as well as anybody does (well, apart from perhaps you lot). In short I can't wait to see them for a fiesta of BBQ's and booze. *Nods head wisely* I am ready to get back out there.
Tree told me last night as I told a particlarly dirty story about travelling America that I was far more sparkly. I have a party tonight at the marina, watching the boats sail across the dark blue sea, while the fireworks light up the sky and I think like the fireworks I may be more sparkly still.
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They have just pitched a fair outside my balcony. Now all i need is a sexy spaniard to win me a teddy bear....
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Daisy *hearts* moonlit swimming...
Brick Wall.
Late last night in the pretty-white-bar by the sea, sipping coke (yes, just coke)...
Monkey-John: Oh Daisy, I'm so sorry that you are so sad
Daisy: I'm not sad I'm fine. Really, it's not a problem
Monkey-John: Mmm... Ok then *glances at Tree and rolls eyes*
Tree: You have to admit darling that you haven't quite got your usual sparkle
Daisy: Really, I'm just winding down - it's been one hell of a couple of weeks guys...
Monkey-John: Yes, but it's affected you so badly. You seem so small.
Daisy: Honestly - I'm fine. Just a bit tired. I've walked away from my whole life you know - it's daunting but I think I'm handling it OK... I am aren't I?
Tree: Oh yes... yes, you're doing great!
Moneky-John: Have you ever been dumped before petal?
....and then I spiralled. Panic set in and I could hear a buzzing in my ears and the bar suddenly seemed very bright. I know that I replied to Monkey-John and I know that we had a conversation but I can't remember a lot except that he told me that I would be bitter for a long time.
I don't want to be bitter though, I want to be as sweet as cotton candy.
When I left the bar I sat on the beach for a long time and had a serious talk with myself. A serious sober talk with myself.
I have almost everything that a person could desire (even a friend called Monkey-John) - I need to stop thinking how much lovlier it would be with Jk to stroke my hair and laugh with me on the walk home along the prom. I need to stop thinking how we could paddle in the sea and kiss under the stars, and how last time we were here we did just that. But mostly I need to shift the lump in my throat that seems to be stopping me from laughing, even at Tree's silliest jokes.
In fact, it seems like I haven't laughed for ages.
Smells like teen spirit.
Last night I met a couple at the bar who were so completely in love that they felt the need to tell me every single moment of their 20 year relationship. To sum up... she refused his proposal three times over a ten year period, they met again by chance when they went for the same parking space and he bought her a new car even though he didnt have any money. Finally she agreed to marry him.
I drank three rather large gin and tonics
Then an old friend came in. ´Where´s that lovely Jk´ he greeted me with...
I felt the need to sip half a pint of baileys as I explained that ´lovely Jk´wasn´t coming to Spain.
´Why would that be?´ asked that old friend
´Well, it turns out that he didn´t actually love me, even though the last time you saw him he was singing love songs at karaoke (badly) to me. Must have been the Irish coffees talking, not his heart. Not real love, the sort that buys you a car and waits ten years for you to decide to marry him.´
´Shame´ Said that old friend
Yes, it is a shame that for me real love has never actually existed. I just seem to find a lot of phantoms.
Another pint of baileys please Joe.
AND - It turns out that when I´m drunk, I look more like Courtney Love than initially thought. Perhaps (factoring in my current alcohol consumption) I should go for a job as a looky likey...
Has it really come to this?