Wednesday, 24 October 2012

Circus Boy 3 - The Incredible Disappearing Man

The week started so well, that without the title of this blog post, you'd never guess where it was headed. Monday night Circus Boy texted, and we texted a couple of times before he rang and asked if I'd like to go to a festival that weekend. I ummed and aahed a bit, cos apart from one day at V a few years ago, I've not been to a festival in ages, and V was WAAAAY bigger than I remember festivals, and most of all I HAD NO IDEA WHAT TO WEAR.

Circus Boy appeared to think this hesitancy was because I was worrying about bringing Son, although there couldn't have been a thought further from my mind, but like the good mother I masquerade as, I listened all through him detailing the child-friendliness of the festival, all the while actually mentally catalogueing my wardrobe and  deciding that I may yet be able to do this thing. So I said yes, and he said I'd have to send a Facebook friend request cos he'd got a link to the festival on his page and I could read all about it, so I said yes to that too.

Off the phone and immediately onto FB - not to send a friend request (good grief, I'm not desperate, after all), but to send an urgent message to Heather and Sue about what the hell to wear, should I even go etc etc. They convinced me and went through various outfit options, then finally nagged me into sending the friend request, which he almost immediately accepted.

And here we really need some Twighlight Zone music. For whilst I was viewing his page (cos obvs I wasn't going to ignore a prime snooping opportunity) a strange thing happened. My normal laid-back and sunny disposition was transformed into the persona of a complete and stark-raving loony neurotic stalker. As I looked through his photos, I couldn't help but notice all the beautiful young girls around him. His age. His type. Not some ageing almost-ex-goth with a 'given-birth' body. What the hell did he want with me, when he could be with them? What in Jarvis' name did I think I was doing even CONSIDERING going to a festival with him, to meet all these lovelies, when in comparison I would inevitably end up looking like the greasy-haired and bare-faced twin of Zelda off of Terrahawks? And surely it was only my Lift and Luminate foundation that was hiding my wrinkles. And stretch marks. And fat. And hairy toes. Yes, I know, it can't possibly be that, but I am telling you, I was seriously deranged by now, and only a severe writing-to from Heather and Sue stopped me from phoning him to cancel and blocking him on FB right there and then.

So off I went to bed and to sleep in an attempt to end the madness. At about 1am I heard my phone's quiet beep, and I had a text from Circus Boy - 'Goodnight and sweet dreams Beautiful xxx'. I didn't answer cos I was sleepy, but I felt back to normal again, and shut my eyes all happy.

Next morning I was at the clinic, which is pretty hectic all day, so although I knew he'd be asleep still, I texted him 'Good morning Sexy Boy, hope you have a good day xx' and went off to work to review the madness of the night before and to discuss it at far too much length with Ben, one of the other physios, who has the advantage of being the same sex as Circus Boy, and roughly the same age. He basically gave me a 'man-up' lecture, and actually gave me some good advice, which was 'you have to get back into the mindset of using him for sex.' Which was the best thing he could have said, because that's what it was always meant to be. I had completely forgotten this was only ever meant to be a one-nighter - so what if it had morphed into a fling? I obviously wasn't going to marry him or have a serious relationship with him, so what on earth was I fretting for?

So by the time I went home I was back to normal.

And then he didn't text. I didn't fret, cos there could be any explanation - I mean, he is a sociable person, he's an entertainer, he's either out or working I thought.

Next day (Wednesday) I was off on a short break with Son to Wales, and it was fab sunny weather, so I didn't really have time to contemplate the lack of contact from Circus Boy until Wednesday evening. The phone reception was a bit crap, but hey, the B and B had Wi-Fi, so he was BOUND to have got in touch on FB, surely? After all, we were going to a festival in two days' time. Weren't we?

Nothing. Not a dickie bird on my FB, or on my phone - after I'd leaned out of the window and held it at arm's length for about five minutes ('feel the burn') in case only having one bar of reception meant that very important texts took ages to work their way into the phone.

So I was a little bit disappointed. I didn't exactly give up hope completely, but I had that sinking feeling in my stomach, and if my life were a film, I'm pretty sure the background music at this point would have been 'Another One Bites The Dust'.

Luckily there was sea, sun, sand and - nothing else actually, that's all - to distract me the next day, and I didn't spend too long doing the Women Who Stare At Phones thing. But you know that thing where you try not to think about something, and to forget it, and put it to the back of your mind? And you know how that means that it is ALL you bloody think of? That.

Got into the B and B that night and went straight onto Facebook and onto his page, and what the bleeding hell do I find, but CIRCUS BOY ASKING IF ANYONE CAN GIVE HIM A LIFT TO THE FESTIVAL TOMORROW!!!

Well, there we go. I can no longer try to convince myself that he's trying to not disturb me on holiday, or to arrange things before he gets in touch. The bugger is going without me. Even so, I gave him one more night to get in touch (for I am the type who likes to give people a chance pathetic). Then Friday morning I removed him from Facebook and mentally scraped him into the bin, vowing that if I saw him hitching as we drove home from our break, I would run him over. Splat!

End of. But it wasn't.....

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