Okay, so aside from the fact that a Daily Mail reader appears to have found his way onto my blog… there has been yet more drama in the world of The Composer.
He texted again yesterday afternoon -
‘Babe, I know it’s no excuse but I was going to use my dad for a lift, thought he was coming into London earlier. Aren’t you free for even a little bit tomorrow? x’
For feck’s sake. This and Big Fash’s reminder that I did cancel on him first (albeit for an actual serious reason – serious enough I might add to make Blondie cancel her plans too, so we could rush to the aid of a friend. Take that.) made me concede to give him another chance. He’s a man, fer cryin’ out loud. He can’t be expected to realise when he’s being a complete muppet. So I reply.
‘Okay fine, I can make myself free if I move some things round a bit. Can meet you in town at 4 after the Christmas Fair?’
He seems very happy with this. He can’t wait to see me. He’ll buy me a glass of wine to make up for cancelling Saturday (ahem. You’ll be being me more than a glass darling) and everything is dandy.
Then what do I wake up to this morning?
‘Actual FML. My friend has bailed on me and I was going to crash in London tonight so I could be there to see you tomorrow. Have had to come home. Sorry sweetie, I know that’s really gash.’
Oh, oh, oh. There are no words.
So, not only has this guy now cancelled on me twice on the day of the supposed date, but he also uses the phrases ‘fuck my life’ and ‘that’s really gash’.
I think there might be a certain amount of the Powers The Be warning me off here. My SassyGayFriend says it so well in his comment; if the fates have decided it won’t work out… well, it won’t work out. Suck it up, move on.
Also, Guildford really ain’t that far away. I dragged my ass out there to see Six Characters in Search of an Author when I missed it in town. I know the distance.
I said way back at the beginning of this year, that after a year of promiscuity to get over a lifetime of being screwed over, and the subsequent reaffirmation of my faith that there is at least one decent guy out there, he just hasn’t made his entrance yet, that I would not let myself get into things with anyone less than my absolute Shakespearean hero.
Despite the fact that we only talked on the phone and emailed, there was every possibility that this guy might have been great. Benedick probably would have done the same to Beatrice once or twice, but I’m pretty sure she would have socked him one for it.
Be that as it may, I really do not need flaky in my life. Say what you like about his personal situation maybe not being particularly stable at the moment if he’s having to stay with his parents and can’t get into London much and blah blah blah, but frankly, if that’s the deal then I don’t need that right now.
We’ve got very little time that is ours ladies. We have to make sure we give it to the right person. And if that person squanders that time, then that’s their choice. We learn from our mistakes and we save it for someone who will actually use it wisely.
And here endeth the lesson. Can’t wait to see the shitstorm this brings on.