Back in the rainy city

I’ve spent the morning reading and now I’m out for a late morning (okay, early afternoon) coffee, and I guess I should finally fill you in on how I’ve come to live in Glasgow…sort of.

After Giles had his rant at the Intern on Thursday, it got me thinking about my time as an intern. It was such a valuable experience. I learned about publishing (albeit the hard way) and, more importantly, I learned about office politics. I learned that the ‘real world’, as Giles likes to put it, is filled with arseholes, and that just because they are every where it doesn’t mean we should put up with someone being a bully–or, even worse in my case, using you as a scape goat.

I’m quite weary of using the work computer for anything other than work, since RobotPA is monitoring us, but it doesn’t stop me from using the phone. I spent the rest of the afternoon flicking through my old Notes From the Intern Posts. I kind of wanted to remind myself of what it was like to be an intern–time is the best aid to forgetfulness. But, after reading some of my old posts about HP, I got a bit nostalgic, a bit weepy, and I really started questioning what was going on between us. How did we get from that couple that struggled to be together, to that couple who lies and hides from one another.

So, what I ended up doing instead of looking at really old NFTI posts was I looked over my posts from the last few months. I feel like Candy moving in was a bit of a turning point, or a turning of HPs head. But, in truth, well before I started blogging again, he and I were having problems. Snitty arguments, not talking, and very minimal sex, or really any physical connection. How did this happen?

I think I had been attributing his grumpiness to the job he had before working with Candy. He hated it. Hated the work. Hated the people. And, to be honest, he wasn’t too fond of Dundee. I guess then, when Candy offered him a way out, she gave him something I couldn’t? A job he could love?

But, that’s hardly fair. It can’t give him that. I can’t control his employment.

What really caught me was my Halloween post.

Like I said, time is the great aid to forgetfulness. I remembered being so annoyed at HP that evening. I remembered getting drunk. Later the Intern informed me that I (or another crazed woman dressed as a witch) dashed out the party stealing a very expensive bottle of whiskey on the way. But what I seemed to have repressed was that I saw HP kiss Candy. Okay, I saw him touch her face and lean in to do so. Maybe they didn’t actually kiss at that moment due to my racket, or because I disturbed them, or whatever. I ran out of there as fast as I could, but the intent was there, even if the action did or did not happen.

I’ve spent the last month stressed and confused over why HP is mad at me. Trying to figure out what I’ve done for him to treat me as a traitor. Re-reading that post has brought up feelings I’ve been pushing down. Pure anger.

I don’t know why, but it’s almost as if I forgot what I saw. As if I didn’t want to remember it. But, in truth, those emotions were still there. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t pushing for ‘the talk’ with HP? Because then I’d have to remember seeing him kiss her.

But, I couldn’t push that memory away any longer. I was living in a house with a man who didn’t want to be with me. A man who I loved with all my heart, but who has cheated on me. With a man who not only betrayed me, but caused Candy to betray her new boyfriend. (Candy had been, after all, with her boyfriend before the party.)

I texted HP and asked him to please be home early. We needed to talk.

In pure HP style he texted back with ‘Need to be at work late. Can this wait?’

I said ‘no’. Of course it could wait. What was a few more hours or even days? But, I was ready to confront, and confront I would. So, I asked him to be home by 6 o’clock.

In the last couple of days, he’s organised the box room, and he’s turned that into his bedroom, meaning we have the lounge back as shared territory. When he came home he sat down on the sofa and I asked the question, ‘Did you kiss Candy on Halloween?’

Yes it was a trap. Yes I knew the answer. But I wanted to hear what he had to say.

His response was strange. He said, ‘No, I didn’t kiss her.’ But the way he said it made it seem like he was waiting for me to ask. Like he knew I knew. His answer was also left open ended, like he was supposed to say, ‘No, I didn’t kiss her, but I got a hand-job’, but stopped before the ‘but’.

I restated, ‘You didn’t kiss Candy on Halloween?’

His response, again, ‘No’. But, like he was waiting for something else. Like he was waiting for me to confess something.

So, I said, ‘At this point, it’s okay if you did. I mean, yeah, I’d be really hurt. But you’ve already said you’re done with us. So, you can at least be honest.’

‘No. I did not kiss Candy at Halloween, or any other time for that matter. Is there anything you want to tell me?’ he said.

If he wasn’t going to be honest with me, there was no point in having this conversation. If he was going to lie to my face, then he’s not the man I fell in love with.

I had to leave but, for the first time since all this drama started, not in a panic. I just needed to get away and really think about what I want to do with my life. The problem was, I had no where to go.

My first inclination was to go to my Dad’s, but I wanted to get away for a few days, and I don’t need to take time off work just now. Then I thought Hubby and Intern2’s flat. Perfect, just what I need.

I calmly told HP that we were finished with the conversation, and I got up, went into my room and packed a case. I could easily commute from Edinburgh to Dundee. Perhaps even work from home (Hubby and Intern2’s home) a couple of days a week.

When I walked out of the flat I was surprisingly not sad. It felt kind of like I was going on a holiday, an emotional vacation. As I walked to the train station, I thought that I had better text Hubby to let him know I was coming. Unfortunately, this is the text I got back, ‘Sorry babes. In Nice for a little RNR. Would love to give you refuge, but the spare key is inconveniently inside the house.’

Shit. Where could I go? For a moment, I thought about turning back and seeing if I could crash at Lorainne’s for a while, but I felt like I really needed to get out of Dundee. Then I remembered that I had to be in Glasgow the next day anyway. Goatee!

The man who came to rescue me on Halloween and his lovely wife. I texted Goatee with the lame excuse that I had to be in Glasgow on Friday and it would be so much more convenient if I could come crash at his for a few days. He said that was fine, the guest room was all mine.

I arrived to his wonderful wife opening a glass of wine and Goatee throwing together a salad. They insisted on feeding and watering me, and after the third glass of Shiraz, I confessed. All was not well with HP. He and I had split up, I really needed a few days away to think about it. And since I had to be in Glasgow for Friday anyway…

That’s when she spoke up and said that she had a better arrangement than their guest bedroom. They had just bought a bedsit over the art gallery that Goatee manages (and she owns, which I did not previous know). It’s a place for visiting artists to crash during exhibitions. But it’s unoccupied at the moment. She got up, and returned with a set of keys. ‘It’s all yours for the next week or so.’

I simply could not refuse. This beautiful woman. This amazing creature has given me respite. Goatee really did marry right.

So, this is where I am for at least a week. I’ll go into the office in Dundee tomorrow and broach Giles about working from home a couple of days a week. If he shows up for the Monday(ish) meeting. Or, I may just say I have clients to see around Scotland. It’s not like he knows where I am or what it is I do. Hell, he doesn’t even know what the Agency does.

But, hopefully, that little bedsit over an art gallery will give me a bit of space to figure out where I go next. Either way, I do kind of miss Glasgow. In fact, it’s a lovely Sunday. I think I’ll go make use of this fine city.

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