I am seething mad this morning.

It is Bank Holiday Monday, and I have made myself get up at 6.15am as normal. But that’s not why I am mad.

This weekend was my first social weekend in some time. It turns out that since my breakdown and Dad’s illness in October, I haven’t seen one of my best friends. We don’t live near to each other and I cancelled a number of planned events for one reason or another. That’s not why I am mad either.

Saturday morning, I got a call from my youngest sister. I’d asked her to look after Dad for the day as I planned to take my children out for a few hours before I went out myself to see my friend. My sister had a hangover. She doesn’t often drink or go out herself, so I wasn’t angry at that. She asked if I would pick her up as she didn’t feel safe to drive. Fair enough.

So, my youngest and I set off. When we arrived at my sister’s estate, we saw her outside smoking. Stood in the doorway was Lost Soul. He was drunk (no surprise there then) and was talking passionately to some Jehovah’s witnesses who apparently had come to call. I won’t bore you with the details of their conversation but will say I’m sure they were not expecting that when they set off on their mission that morning. Lost Soul loves a good debate and was revelling in the opportunity to demonstrate his intelligence. (sensing my sarcasm perhaps?)

Once the poor people had had their fill of drunken philosophical debate and had left, Lost Soul turned his attentions to me.

A lot of why I am angry is my own reaction to his attention. I know what he is like. I’ve fallen for this time and time again. I am well aware that ‘this’ is never going to happen and I have told him this fact too.

So why, oh why, do I let his infantile flirting get to me?

It’s the same old, same old. All the same tactics that he uses with every woman no doubt, and yet I allow myself to fall for it, just a little bit:

  1. Compliments
  2. Repeatedly asking for hugs
  3. Directing full attention on me
  4. Sharing something personal – a favourite piece of music for example, and asking me to listen to it whilst watching me.
  5. More compliments
  6. More hugging
  7. New female ‘friend’ name drop
  8. Suggestion to spend some time together


Nonetheless, knowing all this and recognising it as and when it was happening did not stop me from sending a drunken WhatsApp hours later. There was nothing in it, a friendly message… But I did it to see if he would reply. I did it to see if anything has changed. To see if the flirting actually meant something. To prove that we could be friends as we agreed last summer. That’s what friends so, isn’t it?

Of course, you’ve worked out that he didn’t reply. I chose WhatsApp so that I could see if he has read them. He has.

I’m mad myself. I knew what he was up to. Why text him, what did I hope to achieve?

The only positive is that every incident of this ilk is chipping away at the very, very small chunk of hope and esteem for him in my heart. There isn’t much left now. I may even learn to dislike him.

2 thoughts on “Respect

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