I didn’t tell the whole story about my weekend when I blogged on Sunday.
In fact, I missed out a rather massive happening.
Saturday morning, I came around at the crack of dawn with my pounding head and upset bladder overriding sleep. I don’t know why I did it, but I texted The Mechanic to wail about my condition. I didn’t expect him to be awake, I just wanted to get it off my chest. I’d been a total bitch to him on the phone on Friday night, while inebriated. I’d been pretty blunt about how I felt and given him a good shunt out the relationship door. Even though there was a message on my phone from him saying “I don’t want to hurt you, I just want you to be happy”, he wasn’t really an obvious choice for sympathy…
Not a minute later and my phone rang. It was him. Through wimpery tears, I explained how I was back to square one with not being able to wee no matter how desperately I needed to go. I apologised for being a mardy cow. I apologised for waking him up before day had even broken. He insisted that he had been awake. It was weird, he said, but he had woken up and reached for his mobile and just as he picked it up, my message came through.
Liar.
Nice lie though.
We talked a bit longer, anything to take my mind off my physical state while the bicarb, paracetamol and hot water bottle started to take effect. He had a packed morning ahead working at the garage on double time and then fixing his mate’s mum’s car. What was I doing? I explained that I wouldn’t be doing anything all day now. Probably just spend the day between bed and the loo*.
A wave of tiredness came on, and we ended our call just as I was dropping off, sleep bringing some blissful relief 
A couple of hours later and he and I were on the phone again. He was in a car, on his handsfree. I queried where he was going. Oh, he was headed off to Devon to deal with a broken down bus and had miles to go yet.
An hour later and he called again.
To ask where I was?
And to ask me to open the door as he hadn’t been going to Devon after all, and he was outside my house.
Well, of course, I was looking great. NOT. My hair was in a lopsided ponytail, my makeup was all over my face, I was smelly, I was washed out. AND I NEEDED A WEE ALL THE TIME!
He reasoned that he had been really worried about me so had gone home for a shower after his last job at the garage and then driven straight up to me, stopping off on the way only to buy me a packet of chocolate buttons (which he offered up as he spoke, like an apologetic child).
So, I was very touched by his obvious concern and that I mean so much to him that he doesn’t think twice about driving 120 miles to arrive late afternoon on a Saturday when he had to be leaving London by 10am the next day, when there would be no naughty business on the cards, when the grump of a girl he had gone to see would refuse point blank to move from the comforts of the duvet all day and that the entire purpose of the visit was to try and make me feel better…
BUT
I feel all contradictory in my head. He’s lovely, but…
He’s great to me but…
I like spending time with him but…
He made me feel cheerier mentally, even if physically I was going mad, but…
All the buts.
Plus, I do now worry that just turning up unannounced is something he’s going to make a habit of. It’s not something I have ever been particularly happy about…
Oh, and FIRE MAN IS A FUCKWIT (same old, almost can’t be bothered to type it out. Number gone from the cereal box too this time. I’m almost willing him to contact me again so I can take all my rage out on him: JUST FUCK OFF ALREADY! Why do we even pretend with this friends charade? Just piss off).
And, finally for today: women dawdling up the stairs at SJP tube station, texting on their mobiles – WHY?!?!?!?!?!?!
ARGH.
*Ladies, why is it so much more bearable to sit on the loo without any knickers on? Why is it that as soon as you pull those panties back up again, the pain is suddenly worse again?!?!? And trousers? Game over.
Filed under: Fire Man, Love, Mechanic, Relationships, boys, rants | 7 Comments
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ok, so what comes after the ‘but’?
Is it something that you can’t get over, or something that given a little time, it wouldn’t matter?
or is it ‘but’ i really don’t want to be with him? In which case, it might be nicer to cut contact, for his sake….
Aww, sweet. I’d hate an unannounced visitor too. In fact I wouldn’t even let him in. It’d be “post the chocolate buttons and fuck off”. Although I don’t like chocolate buttons.
I’m with Pinky. If you don’t want to be with him you have to cut contact because otherwise you’ll hurt him terribly.
But? But are you just freaked out?
Although it would be being cruel to be kind – i.e. tell him to get lost – he must know you’re ‘just not that into him’? Saying that I was blind to it
I would love it if ’someone’ just drove 120 odd miles to come and see me because they were worried
but it depends on who that person was of course.
I think it’s sweet but I wouldn’t like it either. Especially when you’re feeling all icky.
Hope you’re feeling better today xx
Sweet but shades of “creepy”!
Hope you are feeling better x
Hmmm, tricky situation. One one hand it is a nice thing to do, on the other hand it is slightly creepy and more worryingly could set the precedent that that practice is acceptable to you.
If there is no future, then it is best to nip it in the bud sooner rather than later – before he falls for you even more, afterall I get the impression that no amount of chocolate buttons will win you over on this one.