Was Jude. "Oh, oh I feel so hungover. I think I'm going to throw up." She started launching into great long story about party at the Met Bar but had to stop her as really felt whole oriental youth issue was more pressing. Really felt was right about this. Was not be
ing selfish.
"Oh God, Bridge," said Jude when I'd finished. "You poor thing. I think you've handled it really, really well. I really do. You've really come on."
Felt huge glow of pride, followed by puzzlement.
"What did I do?" I said, looking round the room alternating between self-satisfied smiling and confused blinking.
"You've done exactly what it says in Women Who Love Too Much. You've done nothing. Just detached. We cannot solve their problems for them. We simply detach."
"Right, right," I said, nodding earnestly.
"We don't wish them ill. We don't wish them well. We do not call them. We do not see them. We simply detach. Housekeeper's son my arse. If he's got a housekeeper how come he's always round your place getting you to wash up?"
"But what if it was the housekeeper's son?"
"Now, Bridget," said Jude sternly, "this is what's called Denial."
11.15 a.m. Have arranged to meet Jude and Shazzer in 192 for lunch. Right. Am not going to be in Denial.
11.16 a.m. Yes. Am completely detached. You see!
11.18 a.m. Cannot believe he still hasn't fucking, fucking, fucking well rung. Hate passive-aggressive behaviour of telephone in modern dating world, using non-communication as means of communication. Is terrible, terrible: with simple ring or non-ring meaning difference between love and friendliness and happiness and being cast out into ruthless dating trench war again, exactly the same but feeling even more of a fuck up than last time.
Noon. Could not believe it. Phone actually started ringing while I was staring at it, as if I had made it ring through thought-vibe energy and this time it was Mark.
"How are you?" he said wearily.
"I'm fine," I said, trying to be detached.
"Shall I pick you up and we'll go for lunch and talk?"
"Um, I'm having lunch with the girls," I said really quite detachedly indeed.
"Oh God."
"What?"
"Bridget. Do you have any idea what sort of night I've had? I had this boy trying to strangle his mother in the kitchen, the police and ambulance round, tranquillizer darts, drives to the hospital, hysterical Filipinos all over the house. I mean I'm really, really sorry you had to go through all that, but so did I and it was hardly my fault."
"Why didn't you call before?"
"Because every time I got a second to call, either on the phone or the mobile, you were bloody well engaged!" Hmmm. Detachment did not go particularly well. He
really has had an awful time. Have arranged to meet him for dinner and he says he's going to sleep this afternoon. Alone, I do so deeply and sincerely hope.
Sunday 2 February
9st 2 (excellent: am turning into Oriental Boy), cigarettes 3 (v.g.), calories 2, 100 (v. modest), boyfriends I again (hurrah!), self-help books counted out loud in dismissive incredulous manner by newly re-instated boyfriend 37 (only sensible in this day and age).
10 p.m. In flat. Everything is good again. Dinner was a bit awkward to start with but got better when decided I did believe him about story, especially as he said I should come and see the housekeeper today.
But then, when we were having our chocolate mousses, he said, "Bridge? Last night even before this happened I'd started to feel as though things weren't right."
Felt cold clunk of dread in stomach. Which was ironic really considering had been thinking things weren't right myself. But really, it is all very well you yourself thinking things aren't right in a relationship, but if the other person starts doing it is like someone else criticizing your mother. Also it starts you thinking you are about to be chucked, which, apart from pain, loss, heartbreak etc. is very humiliating.
"Bridge" Are you in a hypnotic state?"