My birthday. I had treatments booked before heading to the country house hotel in Suffolk, Ballingdon Hall, near Sudbury, for the weekend the next day. It would have been his birthday on Friday evening. Hair color. Waxing. Eyebrow tinting.
Nic gave me a pair of ice pink Juicy Couture sweatpants for lounging in the hotel.
I had arranged for us all to get a massage at the hotel, delicious food. I filled my car with diesel for the four and a half hour drive; I never fill up my car with gas because I’m always afraid I won’t have any money. I made Nic’s bed in the guest room, fresh towels. Dog food replenished. Nic will have to stay at my house to take care of my dogs, and go to the horses every day. It’s a lot to arrange. I placed his birthday gift, an N Peal cashmere hoodie, with the accompanying gift card in my case. I ironed everything. I checked my route.
On Tuesday he had texted: “Can you please tell me the plans for the weekend?”
I gave him the zip code and said dinner was at 8pm, but don’t worry if he’s late. “I won’t be.” I planned to get there at 4pm which would give me plenty of time to relax, take a bath and put on makeup. I’ve never been so excited. To go on a mini spa vacation with a handsome man. The hotel’s PR texted me, “Can I have your friend’s name?” I gave it to her. I was so proud. I have a boyfriend! A lovely one who tells me he knows beauty when he sees it. That he has to see me every week. He likes me ‘so much’. My success is ‘a magnet’.
All day long I was expecting a text saying “Happy Birthday!” Looking forward to seeing you in Suffolk! Thank you so much for arranging everything!’ But no, nothing.
Then, at 6:52 pm on my special day, I got this. Please sit down. Believe me, I had to.
‘Liz. I feel so overwhelmed from every angle right now. Please excuse me this weekend. I just feel heavy and want to feel good about whatever I do. I know I’m worried about tomorrow afternoon and will call later. After an exhausting week, I just know I’m not going to make it that ride*. I don’t want to risk it at the last minute, so say it now. I just feel so bad. I didn’t do anything for you or your birthday and I still do [sic] the list goes on. Please be patient with me if you can.”
I’ll call Nik. I’m crying. I thought for once something miraculous was happening to me. That I had a reason to still be here. She is furious: ‘How dare he make you cry on your birthday! I would be so grateful if someone would go through all that trouble for me. What’s wrong with him? I’ll drop by with a Chinese guy.’
I have no idea what to answer. There were red flags, of course. He had me chased the first week and didn’t let me know if he was coming to my house or not; really rude. When I was staying at Soho House, paid for by me for work, I noticed him opening half a bottle of £59 champagne from the minibar without even asking if it was OK. He ordered oysters, steak and fries. Wine.
If I text him to say that canceling at the last minute doesn’t matter, that would be a lie. Another friend suggested I do this: “Life gets in the way!” she trembled. “He’s got some serious stuff going on. Don’t give up on him. Just send him a sweet message and tell him a late celebration is fine.”
I don’t do sweet, girly, desperate posts. So far I have tried to be 100 percent myself: candid, open, trusting and honest. If I tell him I’m angry, what’s the point? He clearly doesn’t care about my feelings. There must be another woman involved; she can have it, seriously. I even bought him a ticket to see Oasis! Well, I got one through one of Oasis’ ex-wives. I text his text (keep going) to David 2.0, who introduced us. “The bastard just sent me this on our mini holiday night, on my actual birthday….”
And then I think what to do. I place the beautiful gift-wrapped N Peal box on my bed, take a photo and text it to him, with just these two words. ‘Silly Bridget.’ I doubt he’ll even understand that reference, that foreign, love bombing.
*His journey is two hours from London.
Jones Moans… What Liz Detests This Week
- The list is endless. Jesus, I should give him a name, put his picture on Twitter. What did I ever do to him? Besides being adoring and sweet and funny? I immediately told him that I have no success with men, that everyone treats me badly and takes money from me. Dear God, when will I ever learn?
ccontact Liz at lizjonesgoddess.com and find her @lizjonesgoddess