Dirty 30s

Older, but not wiser. Perhaps that's why I found myself engaging in circular conversation with ex - mr long distance relationship, long-term bf, mr big love, big heart break - today. Telling me he may travel to UK/Europe after all with his brother, he may be changing jobs, he may have loco genes, he has doubts one minute but he doesn't the next. Defence shield comes down. Words of Dandy Warhol come to mind: "I'm thinking blah de blah blah blah to your trip."

I say a few defensive things about my mother. No idea really. Just angry. He is the only person that can get to me like this.

Birthday highlights

Lovely Roz brought a bottle of pink bubbly. Jeff arrived with long blonde locks and his new wife Anna. It's been a year since I've seen him and he is such a gentle domesticated death rocker person now. Ryan and Adam looked a bit rough. They wanted to be the official party photographer, but just took some silly photos of each other. Sometimes I think they are a little in love with each other.

Mr G turns up. I'm very drunk. He's holding my hand beneath the table, while friends sit around pretending not to notice. I start to realise that my hand is being held as my focus starts to return. I am waiting for a moment alone so I can tell him that I don't want a boyfriend, not ready, just shaking with nerves about the whole thing. Finally the well-prepared speech comes out.

He just laughs and says 'I know. You told me an hour ago'. Three things:

1. I'm senile. How could I not remembered telling him an hour ago. "Well I must have a door in the back of my head."
2. Ex would have laughed at that as he's knows I have the short term memory of a stoned goldfish but when it comes to arguments, the long term memory of an elephant.
3. Why are we still holding hands?

'Why are we still holding hands then?'

'Why not?'

Oooh, good answer. He's defeated my drunken mind with his vulcan logic and extreme good looks. But no. I must have my dignity, which has obviously been spilt all over the carpet months ago. Who's going to get that out? There must be a way to reclaim it before this turns into a scene from The Graduate.

Usual rejection line fails me - He knows I don't have kids. He knows I'm 5 years older. He knows that I could leave the country at any moment. He knows that I don't want anything serious. And he's still here, outsmarting me, and eroding my resolve.

I walk him to the train station, and turn hand hold into a firm hand shake goodbye. He laughs and kisses me lightly on the lips. Very chaste.

'You're lovely. Even when you're squiffy. I'll call you later' with that lilting English accent. Oooooh, being good is hard.