volcanic's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- future's so bright... So... I'm calm and happy- life feels good right now. I suspect that the fact that Fatboy and I fly to Menorca for a week in ten days may have a lot to do with that. I'm writing lots of lists, and trying to compile one of those "capsule wardrobes" that the glossies rave about. I think I'm succeeding, in my own idiosyncratic way. I guess it helps that all my clothes are either black, black, black, pink, red and lilac, with a soupçon of denim. No messy yellows or greens to struggle with on the co-ordination front, thank heavens. I've got some lovely bits and bobs to take, including a hot pink tropical flower print hot pants bikini and three pairs of flip flops- pink jelly'n' stripes, pink with large gerbera, and lilac sequinned. Yay for me- I'm going to be a holiday hottie, I just know it! Went for the traditional Monday chips and beans lunch with my dear best friend today- it was excellent to see her. She just got back from her holiday yesterday, so we had lots to catch up on. Even though we were pretty busy doing various jobs, we seemed to somehow have lots of talking time, which is always a big bonus. She was asking me if I miss Arthur... and I started off by saying that not a day goes by without me thinking of him, and she said "Yes- but do you miss him?" Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. I went out with some colleagues on Friday night, and I missed him then, largely because we went to the kind of places that me and Arth would have gone to- loud, smoky, noisy places. The kind of places which- if you're sober enough to spot it- are filled with people of a certain age. People around my age, really. People who've either suddenly found themselves in their thirties and desperately need to feel young and trendy and desirable. People who don't get many nights out away from their kids and/or partners, who aren't used to drinking so much anymore. People who look like they've been round the block a few times when you see them in the unforgiving fluorescent glare of the ladies' loos. I wasn't particularly drunk, because I had to work on Saturday, and I found it quite bizarre to observe all these creatures in an objective way, instead of melting into the throng in a vodka-induced hazy glow. By midnight I was ready to go home. I wasn't inebriated enough to leave my inhibitions and my cynicism at the door, and throw myself wholeheartedly into the raucousness and decidedly fake jollity of it all. I felt out of place, a bit lonely and in need of my bed. I'm turning into a sad and boring old woman. Well, I'm not, but that's how it feels sometimes. whatever, I'm not ashamed of it or anything. I categorically know now that I'm not likely to meet the man of my dreams- or even a worthy waste of time- in any of those places. Anyway, when the New Order mix of "Can't Get You Out of My Head" came on, I started to really miss Arthur, because if it had been me and him, we'd have been dancing together, doing some kind of cheesy lambada-esque routine, and laughing lots, and generally not caring. I never had a boyfriend that I could do that with before. See, this is how it sneaks up on me- I start getting all wistful and nostalgic, and thinking about the nice stuff, the stuff that had never happened to me before I met him: things like going on holiday with a boyfriend, and having loads of people round for lunch, and feeling like the one person who could make the bad stuff seem a bit further away. It's very easy to miss all that... ...and then I remind myself that there's another side, and I feel sad. Most weeks I have a day when it would be so easy to text him, and ask him what he's up to. I always manage to stop myself, but it's a struggle sometimes. I find it incredibly disarming that four months have passed. Four months of our lives, and I haven't a clue what's been going on in his at all, apart from a weekend fishing, a night out in my hometown on my birthday, and the death of his friend. And when I look back at my last four months, they're so full: I've been very busy at work, and not just normal-busy, but busy getting involved with some interesting projects, which have gained me a little recognition for my input. I've lost weight, I've got a tan, my hair's different. I even changed my method of contraception. I'm trying to expand my horizons (and my Uni. application is being processed as I type) and mentally, I feel better than I have done in years. I've got new clothes (and new silver trainers), new make-up and a fresh new outlook on life. In short, I feel like a different person. And yet part of me's still stuck there, back on that Saturday in January, trying to work out if there's a way- any kind of way- that we could have done it differently, and made it work. Only a very little part of me, mind- the rest of me's looking forward, and onward and upwards, and enjoying not just the view, but also the knowledge that there's bound to be some stunning surprises around the next corner. 9:45 a.m. - 29.04.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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