Random Snippets, Assymetric Make-Up and Avoidance

When I was getting ready this morning, I had put on some make-up, then curled and applied mascara to the eyelashes on my left eye. I started on the right eye, but my contact lens was playing up, so I had to go and rinse it out. When I tried to curl my right eyelashes, they were still damp and wouldn’t curl. I decided to carry on getting dressed and ready, while I left them to dry a little.

Fast forward thirty minutes and I was on the train, five stops into my seven-stop journey. Suddenly, I had a thought. My right eyelashes, did I put mascara on them? A quick run of my index finger over the lashes confirmed that the answer was no. Great. All I need in addition to my crazy bush woman hair, is asymmetrical eye make-up reminiscent of A Clockwork Orange. Luckily my make-up of choice is relatively understated (apart from the accidentally clown-like blusher I seemed to have applied this morning), so my error wasn’t glaringly obvious. I probably just looked like I had a slight squint in one eye or something. Oh, that's all right then.

Rummaging in my bag for a solution, I realised that in an attempt to lighten the Mary Poppins-style load that I seem to carry around with me, I had removed my mini make-up bag which contained a spare tube of mascara. Never mind, the lop-sided look it was going to have to be. I managed to even things out a little with the help of some Vaseline and mascara-rubbage skills.

My train journey was lightened slightly by some random train art, in the form of a cartoon mushroom in purple and black, drawn on to a sticky label, of which the background had been coloured in green and stuck onto the inside wall of the train. I looked over to the opposite side and there was another sticker, this time with a cartoon drawing of the core of a red apple, with the pips falling out from it. I wanted to get a photo of them both, but didn’t want to seem like a weird geek on the train. Who was I kidding? I was rockin’ one-eyed make-up, the jig was up.

When I got to work, I checked my bag for some papers that I needed to change the details of my phone insurance direct debit and realised that I didn’t have the paper with my new bank account details on. Oops. Having a quick think back, I knew I must have left it in the bank. I popped down at lunchtime and the nice guy who opened my account for me was there.

“Hiya,” he said, “How are you?”

We had a quick chat, then I asked, “Did I leave my bank account details in here?”

He paused for a second. “Yes, you did actually,” he said smiling, “It must have been when you and J were reminiscing about South London.”

I laughed. “I think I was actually distracted because he wished me a nice weekend and I got excited thinking it was Friday,” I explained, smiling, while he reached around the counter to give me my details. I thanked him and jokingly assured him I wouldn't bother them again, then left to get me some lunch.

The afternoon has dragged since then. The Ex called me at work, as he has done at least twice last week and once already this week. Sometimes I don't mind, but other times I start to feel anxious and can't put my finger on it. He wants to see me and I've realised I feel obliged to. At first I thought it might be sort of nice to see him. I find it hard to rationalise not wanting to see him, because he's not nasty, he's not bad company and I constantly have the feeling of guilt that after knowing each other for eleven years, it might be a little sad to not be able to salvage a friendship. But when I assess my genuine reaction, how I actually feel about it, the sense of anxiety I feel inside makes me realise that I don't really want to see him, or at least don't feel completely comfortable doing so. On Sunday evening, he randomly stopped by my house. I would berate him in this blog post for arriving unannounced, but in fairness I can't blame him completely since he did try to ring, he just called my old number. Oops. I went downstairs to see him, messy-haired and in my polka dot pyjamas and we had a quick chat. He was going to get some pizza and wondered if I wanted to join him. Aside from the fact that I had woken at 3.00pm (long story; I blame the two doses of meds I had to take in one day) and was feeling really groggy, Bro-in-Law was making us dinner - his famous roast vegetables, some fresh from our very own garden - which I didn't want to miss.

"I tried to call you earlier," he explained. "Have you got a new number?"

Not being great at lying, mainly because of my damn conscience (lol), I said "No...," in an obviously hesitant and high-pitched way, which bizarrely he didn't seem to question. "I've still got my old phone," which was one of those not-quite-lies-but-withholding-information answers. We chatted a bit more and then he left, saying he would call me later. The call never came, even though I did leave my old phone on to avoid any further questions. It’s quite subtle to me, perhaps because I’m used to it, but he seems to make me feel guilty for being unavailable, or not wanting contact with him. He makes me feel bad if I am reluctant to be friends because of the time we’ve known each other. I slowly start to feel like I have to answer to him or I have to formulate justifications for why I have or haven’t done something (e.g. called him back) before we speak, even though I don’t really have to explain myself to him at all. I find myself getting slightly anxious when I know he wants to talk to me or see me, which isn’t usually obvious to me at first, and I feel obliged to do so, even though when I actually stop and analyse how I really feel about it, I realise that my gut feeling is one of not wanting to.

I have realised we have come to a crossroads again. I know that I don’t feel completely comfortable being in touch with him. I know that the dynamics of our relationship are not particularly healthy for me, because of the role I revert to and how his personality forces me to behave. The level of contact we currently have is such that I either have to continue with him dictating the dynamics, or I have to end the contact completely for my own good and tell him as such. The latter option is obviously the better one. The former option is obviously the easier one. Actually, it’s probably not any easier emotionally, but would be a coward’s way out. There are definite changes that need to be made in my life. His place in it, however infrequent or seemingly insignificant, is one of them. He is one such version of kryptonite I have, someone who saps me of my energy and my resolve, who doesn’t bring out the best in me, nor allows me the necessary space, understanding and support that would encourage me to flourish as the person I am, the way some people do. I have to speak to him. I am not looking forward to this.