You think being dumped by text is the worst method available?
I aspire to be dumped by text. It’s something I dream of. Instead, I’ve been dumped by a great wall of nothingness. My (I assume, who knows? I’ve not heard!) now ex-boyfriend cannot even summon the strength to type, ‘Go away’ or, ‘We’re finished’ or, ‘I’m sorry. Don’t hate me.’ Further to my email enquiring, quite generously in my opinion, ‘Where do we go from here? If anywhere.’ I still haven’t even received in response a ‘Nowhere’. I have been confronted by an unknowable black hole of can’t be bothered. I am sure an astrophysicist somewhere would be able to photograph David’s lack of balls.
But it is all moot because – after my hypnotherapy session to ‘Marie Kondo’ the toxic people from my life which has instilled in me a new sense of confidence, a feeling that I am not always wrong and that I deserve respect and consideration – I feel like a different person. I’ve got a friend coming to stay tonight and while the old me would have gone to insane lengths to please her – Christmas before last, with three girlfriends due, I placed gifts of organic bath products on each professionally ironed pillow, emptied Waitrose and bought flowers – this time I have simply made her bed and told her I’m going out so if she arrives late she will have to fend for herself.
Oh, that I could travel back in time as my new, fearless self and relive my life, undo my mistakes. How different would my reality be now. I’d own a lovely house, for starters. (After I lost my home, I tried to rent a gorgeous, flat-fronted house on a cobbled street in Richmond, Yorkshire. It was expensive but my ex-friend assured me the man who owned it ‘is a millionaire. Farms. Businesses. I’m sure he’ll accept a bit less.’ I told her, ‘There is a reason people are rich. And it’s not because they are generous.’)
Here is how Confident Me would have done things differently…
- Mum and Dad. I borrowed my sister’s sweater before she got home from school. She’s in a rage and kicking me. Either discipline her or I’m calling social services.
- Ex. You are living in my Shoreditch flat to be near your office and escape your parents in Ealing while subsisting on M&S food bought by me. Either have sex with me or leave.
- Family. As I paid for my mum’s care, I think it only reasonable I get all the money she left in her will, not just a small share.
- Friend. I gave you three new Miele appliances when I was made homeless; you know full well their value – a bunch of daffodils would be good. Also, when you invite guests to dinner to watch the referendum results come in, why not actually make some food? Oh, and when you are staying in my house while yours is rented out, and I have to travel 500 miles in one day to review the Prince exhibition at the O2, have the courtesy to make dinner on my return rather than saying disinterestedly, ‘I might have a couple of old potatoes in my boot.’
- Husband. Get off your lazy a*** and earn some money. Put me first instead of your smelly blue yoga mat. And here’s a thought! Why don’t you make a note of where we parked the car at the airport? Oh, and while I’m at it: wedding guests, whom I will never clap eyes on again. Pay for your own b****ing rooms and your full English breakfasts the next day. £52 bottle of champagne from the mini bar? Here’s the bill.
- Ungrateful child. Learn to post a written thank-you note for that holiday/iPad/iPhone or that tap will be turned off.
- PA. Give me back that Louis Vuitton traveller given you ghosted me after I was sacked; actually, I’m whizzing a bit further back and keeping it in the first place.
- David. Here’s the invoice from the locksmith: you need to pay it today. You didn’t really help much when I moved into my flat so I’m not buying dinner in Lemonia as thanks, given you missed my birthday.
Goodness. Wouldn’t my world look different today! My advice to young women? Be a princess. A demanding diva. Care only what you think of yourself. As I write, the Duchess of Sussex has just announced that she won’t be revealing the birth of her baby until after ‘we have celebrated as a family’. In other words, ladies: be more Meghan!