Dear Diary…

Last night I got in from work and flopped on the sofa after my dinner, wondering what series I could exhaust next on Netflix.  I’m a binge Netflix Series Watcher – Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the Vampire Diaries, iZombie, Reign, Pretty Little Liars, That 70’s Show…  I’ve demolished them all.  I decided I could do with a post apocalyptic fix, and decided on Survivors, a British show that was only aired for 2 seasons in 2008.

I’m the kind of girl that sees all these great adverts on TV, thinking “oh, I really want to watch that – I’ll remember to watch X channel at X time on X date”.  It never happens.  Which is why Netflix is perfect for me.

Anyway, so I’ve got the red nail gel polish out, I’m halfway through my toenails and my phone bleeps at me.  I smile to myself, thinking it’s Le Spaniard, as we were mid conversation and he was packing for Spain as he leaves at midday today (and I’m feeling really sad about that…!).  My face dropped when I saw the name on my phone.

Rewind to December 2015 when I met Le Modfather online and immediately got into a relationship.

The Modfather is early 30’s, father of 3, divorced and living around 30 miles from me.  A little shorter than I usually go for, has a little beer belly on him, and he’s a little more sensitive than most (I really had to tread on eggshells with Le Modfather).  He loves a drink.  He loves vintage everything – his home smells of antique shops and charity shops.  He loves old 60’s films, 60’s music, 60’s haircuts, 60’s scooters, 60’s parka’s.  You get the idea.

From the very beginning, it was always me going over to his house.  It was always me doing the running.  I had to run on his schedule, see him when he wanted to see me.  And usually, he was half cut, sitting on his sofa watching some old 60’s film and complaining about life.

Eventually we broke up and didn’t speak for a month… and then he contacted me again, getting back together for a few weeks until he went off the rails with his drinking again and breaking his arm.

He ended up with someone else, but every time they broke up, he would confess his undying love for me and want me back.  I told him I still liked him, but we want different things out of life.

That is what happened last night.  After the initial “how are you getting on?” conversation, Le Modfather  asked about my current relationship.  Le Spaniard and I aren’t exactly in a relationship “yet”, so I told him that I was single at this moment in time (technically true).  I wanted to know what happened between his new squeeze and him (I’m a curious cat), so asked about his relationship.  He told me that she was a little too old for him and she was too much of a posh hippie for him (is that even possible?).

Then he fell into the familiar spiel of him wanting us to try again, that he thought of me all the time, reminding me of the very few fun times we had, asking me to “come over” and then trying to reel me in by telling me he still loved me.

When I told him for the 4th or 5th time that we simply want different things from life, he clung even more – asking if I ever loved him, asked if we could ever be together again, asking what I liked about him…

And then this morning, the dreaded “What are your plans for this Bank Holiday Weekend?”

Sigh.  Oh, Le Spaniard – hurry up and get your holidays over with… I need you here!

Well, it’s been a pleasure, treasure.  Until next time…







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