So, we're in the minicab on the way back to my house. James is grumbling away, clutching at his jaw. I suppose he has to be forgiven for the complaining; Dave is fairly puny but he still managed to pack one hell of a punch. So I'm being hugely apologetic and agreeing with him that, yes, Dave is a bit of an idiot, and yes, he was out of order, and yes, I am so sorry it happened, poor baby, I'll make it up to you as soon as I get you alone.
Then James goes, Sara, what are you doing hanging around with those people? I'm like, what do you mean by that? And he goes, well, you know, they're kind of, well, a bunch of losers. I say, hang on a minute, James, that's incredibly rude. And anyway, it's not like your friends are so fucking great, is it?
We sort of glare at each other and I'm sure more unpleasant words would have been exchanged if the cab hadn't chosen that moment to pull up outside my front door. I flounce out of the cab, chuck some money at the driver and start the usual long search for my house keys.
I live in quite a nice area; green and leafy, and like most of London, it's being overrun by property developers with pound signs in their eyes. However, our house is the black sheep of the street. Like a once glamorous movie star past her prime, our house stands firm in its resistance to the 21st Century home-improvement madness. The weed-festooned front garden alone signals a heartfelt fuck-you defiance to the Farrow & Ball colour palette and Zen gravel arrangement of next door. And it's not much better inside. Helen and I could hardly be described as house proud.
I open the door and usher James in. It's like I'm seeing the place for the first time. The green shag pile carpet looks even shabbier than usual, set off nicely by the drift of junk mail Helen and I always talk about clearing away but never get any further than kicking into the corner. The bare lightbulb (the lampshade went missing after one of our wilder parties, we meant to replace it, but...) highlights the peeling anaglypta on the walls. The sitting room sofa is one of those nasty Dralon affairs. There is a patch of damp on the wall next to the bay window. The curtains sag.
Yeah. It's a dump.
I can tell that James is less than impressed, although I'm not sure that the pained expression on his face is down to my lack of des res or his rapidly swelling jaw. I sit him down and decide that the only option is to anaethetise him with vodka. Even if it doesn't numb the pain, at the very least it might cheer him up.
Bad idea. James gets even moodier.
Eventually I reach the point where I've had enough - I am in no way a glutton for punishment - and offer to call him a minicab. He accepts without any hesitation, and the silence while we wait for it to show up is acute. James practically leaps up when we hear the toot of a car horn outside - showing an insulting level of haste in my opinion - plants a passionless kiss on my lips and throws an, I'll call you, over his shoulder as he races out of the door.
In my experience, that can mean only one thing: Game Over.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
17 comments:
So let me get this straight: the two of you are alone, drinking vodka, after you had promised to 'make things up to him'--and he would rather brood and start complaining about your friends???
He got off easy with just a punch in the jaw...
I guess time will tell if your instincts are correct, but the description of his reaction sounded like you are on to something. That would be his loss, though. His pettiness is his issue, and isn't about you at all.
My advice: say good riddance to him. Reach under your bed for a sexy outfit and go hit the town with Helen.
I predict a knock-out in your very first round.
tj honey, that is very good advice. Shame, because I liked him, but... Oh well, you win some, you lose some...
Come on.
James has just been hit by one of your friends, and surely you would expect him to be pissed off and make heated comments about your friends, no?
Now, which friends are these that hit your boyfriend when they are drunk?
Are you really saying good riddance to him and keep Dany?
To be honest, I think you should call James or make Dany call him and apologise.
Oh I'm so sorry to hear that. There was so much potential with James. But that was NOT cool of him to call your friends losers. I could understand his being upset but still...it's just not right.
But this does give you the perfect opportunity to put your foot down and let him know where you stand and also to let him know that if he can't accept your friends, he's not accepting you.
Based on his reaction, you'll know whether to stay or go.
Right now, I think you should cut him some slack. He did get punched in the jaw and his ego is hurt... give it a few days and then decide...
Let me say that I don't think calling your friends losers is cool, in fact it's quite rude. Given the situation those sound more like angry words than an opinion though. It's not easy to apologise for those. You can cure the jaw-pain with vodka but you can't really numb the bruised ego. What will cure that is a punch landing on Danny's head. (who sounds not like a loser but like an a-hole) Having said all that, what's really appaling here is two grown ups arguing about 22 idiots running around chasing a ball. It's a GAME for fcuk sake.
My view is this, for what its worth... the punch was inexcusable. That particular friend of yours was an arsehole. That said, we can all be arseholes now and again, especially when pissed. Perhaps he was also a little jealous.
As for James, being cross is one thing, but sulking is something else. Once it was over, he should have shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and focussed on YOU, not himself.
If he calls and his reaction makes you feel okay, I'd give him ONE more chance - any criticism of you and your lifestyle, though, and tell him to bugger off. If he doesn't call, don't even spare him a thought.
Well, if he only sees the outside, the shag carpet and missing lightbulb, then he's a shallow oaf. Better off without him.
I has to admit he's been sounding more and more like an uppity control freak as time goes on, but I's been getting more romance here reading this than I has at home so I's sorry to hear this.
A punch on the jaw on 1st meeting of friends is likely to make him a little concerned & dead stroppy.
I think the words said in anger were the problem when you got home as he couldn't work out way of apologising for dissing your friends, without looking like an idiot.
He didn't mention your house - it was just the way you saw it following the incident.
I say give it another chance - he's shown lots of promise so far. Agree that Dave acted like a complete wanker, but that it doesn't mean your friends are all wankers, and anyway, they are your friends, so could he give them another chance - maybe a smaller group, or without too much alcohol involved!
But do a quiet evening together first & see how it goes.
Good luck
Yes, I agree with mrs. aginoth. You should ask him to give your friends another shot. Be warned though. This requires reciprocation.
Gosh, well that wasn't *quite* what I had expected. He is right to be annoyed about the punch however he should direct his annoyance at the puncher. He behaved like a dickhead and he either needs to apologise or get lost!
surviving - I think you're right about the judgemental thing, and that sort of attitude really bugs me.
Tom - it's really not a choice between James and Dave. Dave is more a friend by association - he's Evie's boyfriend and Evie is one of my best friends. I do realise that James had a right to be pissed off, but I didn't like the fact that he lumped all my friends in with his judgement of Dave.
Marcus - yes, Dave behaved like an asshole. There's no question there. But it's not a case of choosing Dave over him, as per my comment above.
catherine m - your comments are always so spot on. Yes, I'll see if he calls, but I have to say there is no way I'm chasing after him.
pos - am I right in thinking you're a man without a football fetish? omg, is such a thing possible??? :-)
wdky - I like the way you think - possibly because that is exactly my view. :-)
network - yes, although it has to be said that my house is truly disgusting.
chav - bless you. Does that mean you haven't managed to track Peter Andre down yet? Oh honey. I'll send one of my ex-flings up to you - tried and tested, Shaz, I think you'll find he erm hits the spot.
Mrs A - as usual, you're so right. Are you sure you wouldn't like to adopt me?
nml - totally. Well, we'll see if he calls... no sign yet.
No adoptions I'm afraid - three is enough!
Plus I'm having so much fun vicariously re-living my youth through you - it's shit when you're going through it, but so much better in rose coloured retrospect.
Just think of that when it all seems too much - one day you'll be old * cynical like me, thinking these were the best days of your life.
hey marcus - how come you've taken the comments feature off your blog? And what's happened to the doc moniker? Have you been struck off? Do tell.
This just occured to me. Could it be a double-freud-effect? I mean, the caveman inside James (there is one in all of us) wouldn't have been so pissed off if someone punched him when you weren't there and if he could have punched back? Could it be that he felt disgraced for
1-Not being able to return the punch
2-Looking as if he can't defend himself in front of (big neon lights) YOU?
Was it the one and only M Jackson who said "I'm a lover, not a fighter"?
I don't know. I fell asleep when he was BAD.
Post a Comment