My birthday. I had treatments booked before heading to the Suffolk country hotel, Ballingdon Hall, near Sudbury, for the weekend the next day. Friday night would be his birthday. Hair color. Hair removal. Eyebrow tint.
Nic gave me a pair of ice pink Juicy Couture sweatpants to lounge in at the hotel.
I had made sure we each had a massage at the hotel, delicious food. I filled my car with diesel during the four and a half hour trip; I never, ever fill the gas tank of my car, because I’m always terrified of not having money. I made Nic’s bed in the guest room and cleaned the towels. Stocked with dog food. Nic will have to stay at my house to take care of my dogs and also take care of the horses every day. There is a lot to fix. I placed his birthday gift, an N Peal cashmere hoodie, with his gift card, in my case. I ironed everything. I checked my route.
On Tuesday he had texted me: ‘Can you tell me the plans for the weekend please?’
I gave him the zip code, told him dinner was at 8 pm but not to worry if he’s late. “I won’t be.” I planned to arrive at 4pm, which would give me plenty of time to relax, shower, and put on my makeup. I have never been so excited. Go on a spa vacation with a handsome man. The hotel PR texted me: ‘Can I have your boyfriend’s name?’ I gave it to him. He was very proud. I have a boyfriend! A charmer who tells me he knows beauty when he sees it. That he needs to see me weekly. He liked me a lot. My success is ‘a magnet’.
All day I was waiting for a text message that said ‘Happy birthday! I can’t wait to see you in Suffolk! Thank you so much for fixing everything!’ But no, nothing.
Then at 6:52 pm on my special day, I received this. Please sit down. Believe me, I had to do it.
‘Liz. I feel very overwhelmed right now from all angles. I need you to excuse me this weekend, please. I just feel overwhelmed and want to feel good about whatever I do. I know I’m looking forward to tomorrow afternoon and my call will be late. After a grueling week, I know I won’t be able to drive that trip*. I don’t want to risk it at the last minute, so I’m saying it now. I feel so bad. I haven’t done anything for you or your birthday and I do (sic) and the list goes on. Please bear with me if you can.’
I call Nic. I’m crying. I thought that, for once, something wonderful was happening to me. That I had a reason to stay here. She is outraged: ‘How dare he make you cry on your birthday?’ I would be very grateful if someone would go to all that trouble for me. What’s wrong with him? I’m coming with a Chinese.
I have no idea what to answer. Of course, there were warning signs. Cheating on me the first week, not letting me know if he would come to my house or not; really rude. I noticed while staying at Soho House, which I was paying for the job, that he opened half a bottle of champagne worth £59 from the minibar without even asking if it was okay. He had ordered oysters, steak and fries. Came.
If I text him to tell him that canceling at the last minute doesn’t matter, that would be a lie. Another friend suggested I do this: ‘Life gets in the way!’ she trilled. ‘He’s got some serious things going on. Don’t give up on him. Just send him a sweet message telling him that a late celebration is okay.’
I don’t make sweet, feminine, desperate messages. So far I have tried to be 100 percent myself: sincere, open, trusting and honest. If I tell you I’m angry, what’s the point? Obviously he doesn’t care about my feelings. There must be another woman involved; She can have it, seriously. I even bought him a ticket to see Oasis! Well, I got one through one of Oasis’ ex-wives. I’m sending your text (please stay tuned) to David 2.0, who introduced us. ‘The bastard just sent me this on the eve of our mini break, on my actual birthday…’
And then I think what I should do. I place the beautiful, gift-wrapped N Peal box on my bed, take a photo, and text it to her with just these two words. ‘Silly Bridget’. I doubt he even understands that reference, the foreign taxi bombing love.
*Your journey is two hours from London.
Jones moans… What Liz hates this week
- The list is endless. Jesus, I should name him, put his picture on Twitter. What have I ever done to him? Aside from being adorable, sweet and fun? I told him directly that I am not successful with men, that everyone treats me badly, takes money from me. Dear God, when will I learn?
docontact Liz at lizjonesgoddess.com and find her @lizjonesgoddess
