A Text and a Call.

I've not seen or heard of Steve since Carnival weekend, and so he hadn't been on my radar at all. Then a week last Friday night he texted at gone 2am - just 'hello u'. I am sure one of the list of exes he sent that text to will have felt compelled to reply, but that ex was not me. Since I was feverish at the time, I did waste a good few minutes composing variations of a 'fuck off' text, but then I realised that any response at all would only encourage him, and so forgot all about it.

Yesterday morning the home phone went and despite suffering from Fever II - the Virus Strikes Back, I answered it because I was expecting a call from Naughty Little Sister.

Male Voice: 'Is that Mrs Reed?'

Me: 'No, I think you've got the wrong number [Wheeze. Cough] What number did you want?'

He read out my number.

Me: 'Oh, that's my number....'

MV: 'Is that [my address]?'

Me: 'Yes....'

MV: 'Well, some time ago you spoke to someone from this company about having new fascias installed, and I'm phoning to ask a few market research questions..'

Well by this time I was properly suspicious. I haven't spoken to anyone about fascias, I close the door in their faces because I'm sick of them knocking on my door with their rip-off pretendy bargain offers for shoddy work done by scary builder-types, who block my toilet with their clay-textured poos.

Me: 'What company is this?'

MV: 'This is erm...'

SECOND MALE VOICE IN BACKGROUND: 'Ask her about [mumble mumble mumble]'.

I hung up. That second male voice was Steve, I was completely sure of it. I also realised I could hear TV in the background, not the noise of other people on phones. 1471 told me the caller withheld their number.

WTF!!!

I spent a lot of yesterday wondering what the hell was the point of it? Why the 'Mrs Reed' palaver? Why was he even bothering with me still? What could he possibly hope to gain?

This morning I woke up with an immediate knowledge of why Mrs Reed, in that way answers come when you sleep on a problem.

Just like with cold-callers at my door, I now hang up immediately on cold-callers to my home phone. As soon as, 'Can I speak to, erm, Miss Field?' is out of their mouths (or when I hear the delay of an auto-dialler), I'm off that phone. The number of cold calls had indeed increased last week. 'Mrs Reed' was a ploy to engage me in a conversation they were never going to have when asking for 'Miss Field'.

And the reason he is doing this? Who can fathom his crazy brain? It's certainly not something I have time or energy for, though at a guess he's between girlfriends again and is bored and has nothing better to do. Fortunately he's not doing anything more annoying. 

But don't you just despise a half-hearted stalker? :-D

I'm Not Paranoid, I Just Know My Stalker!

So on and off there have been little incidents like the Gate incidents, things I can't say were definite stalking, but just had me a bit suspicious. And then last week there was the Return of Stalker's Friend - Dean turned up last Wednesday to apologise for 'being a dick' last time he saw me.

Now it seemed a little odd that he should turn up to apologise some 9 months after the fact, but I let it slide, accepted the apology, and assured him that it was nothing, not a problem. Then I got to thinking. The last time Dean turned up here was swiftly followed by Steve coming out of prison and subsequently turning up here to vomit blood on my drive - so why had Dean suddenly turned up again out of nowhere?

So I was slightly on the alert. But also not, because I had kind of convinced myself I was being paranoid, what with all the gate drama and stuff that never came to anything.

Friday night Heather was here and we had a good old girly night, with drinking and feasting and gossiping. She left, and after about half an hour I was thinking of going up to bed, went and got my dressing gown on and was back downstairs just tidying up a few things when my mobile rang.

I deleted all Steve's numbers after New Year, because I had no idea of his number but was pretty sure it wasn't his old one as his iPhone had been cut off for non-payment when he was on one of his prison stints. So I answered, not knowing who it was (and wondering who was calling at gone midnight).

It was Steve.

'I was just passing and saw your bedroom light on. I wondered how you were doing.'

'I'm fine' I was actually frozen.

'I'm not on anything, and I'm not drunk and I don't want to get back together....'

'Good, because you wreck my life when you are in it....'

'Who's that talking to you?'

I put the phone down. It wasn't anyone talking to me, it was the TV - but he thought I was in my bedroom, and there's no TV there. That's why he was phoning - to keep tabs on me.

I went straight on Facebook and put on a public status about it - cos he hates it when I do that (funny how he knows really, as he pretends he 'doesn't understand' facebook). Well, he knows how to stop me doing it - keep well away.

I switched the phone off, and thought he'd have phoned back - thought he might even phone my house phone, but no. In the morning, nothing.

Which is almost an insult, like I'm only worth a 'convenience' stalk when he happens to be passing!

So I'm putting it out of my mind - I think he was just trying it on - to see if I was up for a bit of exploitation, like so many of his other women (and yes, me too) have been time and again in the past.

Try it on all you like matey-boy, those days have gone, GONE I tell you! But just in case, he has his own ringtone on my phone now - the Twilight Zone music :-)

Circus Boy Over and Out

(Nicked from Baggage Reclaim)

In the end, and bearing in mind that I had by now chucked Circus Boy out in the early hours twice now, I DID text him a good luck message on Tuesday night last week. No reply, but I wasn't particularly bothered, cos there wouldn't have been much to say.

Wednesday we set off for Edinburgh quite early, and it is fair to say that during the journey my mind was with Circus Boy, wondering if he was managing the 20 mile charity unicycle ride ok. Son wasn't feeling too well on the way up, not sure what was wrong, but h was off his food, and when we got to the Premier Inn, he didn't want to do anything except settle in, watch TV then have an early tea in the on-site restaurant. By 6.30 he was in his bed, and I was watching DVDs on his laptop so as not to disturb him. HOWEVER, I had my phone on vibrate, right on my tummy, so as not to miss the call from Circus Boy, because I was excited to hear how he had got on, and also was by now planning wedding dresses, party favours and the like. Ok, so I wasn't really - I was actually planning fit sex on Saturday night, but that doesn't sound so romantic an may even slightly dull folks' sympathy, and I do like to play to the audience.

7pm came and went. As did 8pm and 9pm. By 9.30 I didn't know whether to be worried or annoyed. I sent a text saying, 'did you make it ok?' Note the lack of 'xx', which is my habitual text ending unless it is work. Friends who are reading, here is a little tip. If you have let me down and you get a text without even a single 'x', then you can assume I am royally pissed off with you. One 'x' meaning I am merely disappointed in you, and most of all you've let yourself down.

No reply. 10.30 came and went. So by now I am silently (so as not to awaken Son) apoplectic. IT'S JUST A FECKING TEXT! All that is required is a quick 'yes' or 'no' answer, I will assume you are celebrating your success and all will be well. Have to say, this really annoys me generally - when I send a text, or put a message on FB, and I know it's been seen and there's no reply. It's like talking to someone who just turns away and ignores you. Downright rude in my book.

So anyway, it of course occurred to me that he may be in hospital unconscious or in prison. In either of these cases, his phone would be off. So I called to see if it rang - and it DID! So NO EXCUSES, he was just completely ignoring me. So I fired off an arsey text: 'Wel since ur not in prison or hospital, it would appear that my suspicion that you only communicate wiv me wen u want something was correct. If u want something in future, just ask & please don't waste both our time with the pretending to be a friend thing.'

Thus satisfied, I fell asleep.

Next day Son was fully recovered and we had a brilliant day at Edinburgh Zoo, including seeing the pandas and watching their mating behaviour, and then we went to the sea at North Berwick. On the way back, my phone rang, but Son couldn't get it out of the back of the car fast enough. It was Circus Boy, but whereas usually I would have pulled over and phoned him back, I really couldn't be bothered. Instead, when we were back at the Premier Inn, I texted, 'sorry missed call, was driving.' He didn't respond in any way.

Friday we spent the whole day in Edinburgh, doing the bus tour, Our Dynamic Earth, and Edinburgh Castle (including the Honours of Scotland and the room where James VI and I was born). We also ate at my favourite Italian restaurant, Gordon's, which has gone upmarket in decor, but the food is exactly how I remembered it. 

Saturday we made really good time, and were home by lunchtime, so we watched a 'Miranda' marathon in the afternoon. I am a total convert.

Sunday night I had a text from Circus Boy 'what's got into you now? How am I a user?' Aaaah! Sending a provocative text are we?! Ha, that didn't work, I didn't even see it cos I had gone to bed, and I wouldn't have responded anyway.

Then last night he called, and again I didn't answer it (just imagined Heather Small singing 'what have you done today to make you feel proud?'). He can damn well bugger off, it's too late being over me like a particularly garrulous rash now. If he hadn't been so busy talking about himself the other night, he would have heard how being with Steve has made me look at my life and decide I'm tired of fake relationships, even friendships. Yes, I could treat him the way he treats me, and not reply to his texts or calls, then call him when I want something, but I'm not like that, and that isn't a friendship. In any case, people like that aren't interested in people who play them at their own game - they want soft-hearted forgiving people who let them get away with murder, just like I used to do. But no more. No drama, no arguments, but in future I will silently and deadlily (not really a word, but should be) remove the dead wood from the forest of my life. 

SNIP, SNIP!

Circus Boy 12 - The Final Word

So as it is Christmas Eve, what better time to wrap up the Circus Boy saga? (See what I did there?)

I never heard from him again after the phone call when I thought he was insensitive to say I should be celebrating my Dad's life when he had only just died. I had all but forgotten him, apart from writing blogs about him and when people would ask about him.

Then one Saturday in November, my mobile went as I was under my son's bed trying to sort through the devastation, so I didn't answer. It immediately went again, so I thought it must be important and extricated myself from the spiders and fluffballs.

'Karen, it's Circus Boy,'

'Hello, how are you...'

'Well, not very good actually. Do you have an STD?'

As you can imagine, I almost choked on my own saliva at that one.

'Because you are the only person I've slept with recently, and now I've got sores around my anus.'

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or shout at him, a situation I often found myself in with Circus Boy. I mean, whatever we had got up to, I'd not been playing around THAT part of his anatomy with any bits of mine. And the thought that I was the only person he'd slept with was almost even more ludicrous, the boy's a supreme tart, and he must be kidding himself if he thought I didn't know it.

'Well I'm fine, and I know I was fine after Steve, so I don't think it has anything to do with me. Are you sure it's an STD? It doesn't sound like anything I know of.'

'Yes, well, I've got other symptoms as well, I'm just waiting for the doctor to call me back, I've been waiting ages.'

'You know they've got the walk-in centre at Princess Royal - and the STD clinic's there as well, but I'm not sure if it's open at weekends...'

'I haven't got time for that, this is an emergency! Anyway, do you want to go to the open mic night on Thursday....'

And right there he went back to normal chatting for about five minutes before he rang off! So typical Circus Boy - madness, insults and hilarity all in ten minutes. I asked him to text me if it was anything I should be worried about, and he hasn't, so I'm assuming (in the absence of symptoms) that it wasn't.

One day when we were talking, Circus Boy said he thought people came into eachother's lives for a purpose. I really do think he came into my life to bring me some fun and brightness at a very dark time for me. We met just after Dad was diagnosed as terminal and in the final stages of his cancer, and Circus Boy kept on popping up right until he died. And for all that he could be as annoying as hell, and completely flakey and unreliable, he was also really good fun, good to talk to, got me doing spontaneous things I normally wouldn't, and was a bloody good shag. It's maybe stretching the definition of angel, but he did bring a little sprinkling of his own brand of joy.

Merry Christmas :-)

Circus Boy 10 - Just a Bootie Call

Now IIRC I didn't hear from Circus Boy for about a month, and I pretty much had put it down to experience and forgotten about it - even more so because at this time my Dad got very, very ill. We are talking moribund here. My Naughty Little Sister Mandy came over form Germany because we thought he was going to cark it at any second and she wanted him to see his new grandchild before he died. My older sister phoned to see if she had to come up the weekend Mandy was here, and was told by the MacMillan nurses in no uncertain terms that not only should she come, but if there were any family members who wanted to see Dad before he died, they should come ASAP.

The old bugger lasted another month!

Then out of the blue one Thursday - it's usually a Thursday, I must be his Thursday Girl - Circus Boy phoned and asked me if I wanted to go for a drink to the open-mic night. Except it was 10.30pm, the open mic would have surely been closing and I had a son but no babysitter. So I said no. He then wanted to come around, but since I felt a teensy bit annoyed at his 'no contact for a month but now you just drop everything for me' attitude, I said no, I was tired and going to bed. But I wasn't horrible, and we chatted a bit. then the second he was off the phone I stuck on facebook about how I had just had a booty call, cos I have no doubt that's what it was.

That Sunday I went to bed exceptionally early, even for me. I put my phone on 'very quiet' when I go bed - I still can't sleep without it next to me cos I still have a bit of Steve-stalking fear - so that if I am awake I'll hear the little 'beep' it makes, but if I am sleeping there's no way it would wake me. So I was drifting off and I have to admit I did hear the 'beep', but I was too drifty to attend to it, and fell off to sleep.

I woke up to find I had FOUR missed calls from Circus Boy, but no message left, and no text to explain. Now I actually felt a little bit guilty, because I had heard the one beep, and maybe he was stranded somewhere and in trouble and.... well, do you see how my rescuer mentality gets me into trouble?

So I texted saying sorry I hadn't replied, and was he ok, cos seeing all the missed calls had got me worried. Then I went off to work. Kept checking my phone to see if he had replied, but nothing, not a sausage. Got home from work and about 6pm he texted, but said NOTHING about the night before, just asked if I was ok or some such (can't remember, but can remember he said bugger all). I texted back saying all the calls meant I'd been worried and I hoped this meant he'd escaped the mad axe murderer. (I'm not being nuts here am I? Four missed calls would generally mean there was something a bit urgent going on, wouldn't it? And one would generally feel obliged to explain one's importunity in such a case, wouldn't one? <Prince Charles mode now off>) He then texted back a set of instructions on how to dodge axe murderers. This was not a reply and even M_ from work, who is notoriously romantic (so much so that she even held out hope for Steve to come good), was unimpressed.

Fast forward almost week of hearing nothing from him again. Once again it is Thursday night, and once again my phone rings. But it is only about 8pm, and this time Circus Boy is phoning to see if he can come over after open-mic night. So I said yes.

This may be a good point to catch you up with my bed situation. You will recall that Circus Boy and I managed to break my bed. I decided that the repair with tape really wasn't a keeper, and so I'd ordered another bed - a metal one. It was self-assembly, but I am Queen of the Flatpack, so no problem, and I had it up within a couple of hours. Now experience made me query the strength of its construction, as I could see that the central joint was the main load-bearer, and it was held together by one small screw (I'd need a diagram to fully explain this, but take my word for it). So I wrapped loads of sellotape around the joint as a precaution (I was out of electrical and gaffa tape by this time).

About a week later I had a drunken and ill-advised cop-off with a negligible bloke who turned out to be married. Not that he ever admitted it, but I am convinced it is true. Mad thing was, I was trying to be grown up and sensible, and I decided that because he was 40-odd he fitted the bill. How wrong could I be? But still, one drunken grope and fumble and a bit of bouncing too far on that bed, and the whole bloody thing collapsed underneath us! So, in a matter of six weeks I had managed to break not one but TWO beds. Oh how proud I was!

But I know my rights, and so I got in touch with the sales company and quoted the Sale of Goods Act which states that products should be fit for purpose, and since beds were used for sex as well as sleep, they most definitely should not fall apart during the act, however vigorous. Gotta say, metalbedsworld.co.uk were great, the girl who phoned me went through a good few bed suggestions with me that I could choose from. I said that if they sent someone to take my bed down and put the new bed up, then I would pay the difference in price (cos it was about £200 for the one I chose), but otherwise I wanted the new bed completely for free to compensate for my time and inconvenience. She said that was perfectly reasonable, and so that is what happened - I put up the new bed (much more sturdy) and I got a much better bed than the original - YAY!

At the time of putting up this bed, I had sort of thought what a shame that I would never have the chance to test it with Circus Boy, but by this time I was pretty sure this wasn't going to happen, and it was the furthest thing from my mind when he came over that Thursday.

So when he got here we were immediately into the chat and catching up on what we were up to, and then Circus Boy said, 'I don't know why we don't see eachother very much because I really like you.'

'Well maybe we don't see much of eachother because you blow hot and cold - one minute you are all over me and the next you ignore me, and I don't know where I stand.'

And do you know what he said? What he had the CHEEK to say? He said, 'I don't think that's me - I think that's you. You are the hot and cold one - I actually think you are what they call Emotionally Unavailable.'

'You what!' I was laughing with surprise, because emotionally unavailable is a phrase used on Baggage Reclaim, so here he was, accusing me of being what HE is, and he was able to do that because of stuff he'd read on a website I had recommended to him, to help him in his personal relationships! I was well miffed.

I pointed out that he was the one who hadn't contacted me for a month.

'Well, you could have rung me,' he said.

'That's not the way it works, and you know it,' I said, and his little-boy-caught-out grin told me I was right, he DID know it.

And then the killer blow from him - 'you unfriended me on Facebook!'

'I EXPLAINED THAT!! And I told you to send me a friend request if you wanted to, and you didn't!'

'Well it still upset me. I thought we were friends....'

So after a bit of discussion, we decided that yes, we could be friends, and I actually felt a bit relieved that now I knew where I stood, and I wouldn't be worrying about what he thought of me, and he could relax cos he wouldn't think I was wanting anything more, and I felt fine with that.

After loads more chatting and laughing, it was really late, about 1am. I was going to Birmingham the next day after hydrotherapy, for an consultant orthopaedic appointment with one of the residents. This was a big deal for various reasons and so I wanted to get a good sleep for it, which I told Circus Boy. 'So I'll have to chuck you out now.'

'Can't I stay here?'

Well, I suppose it was a bit late to be wandering the streets without a unicycle, so I said ok. Bbut where would he sleep? 'I can bring you down the spare quilt and pillows, but you're quite tall, so you might want to take the cushions off the sofa and sleep on them on the floor.'

'I'd rather sleep with you'

'I don't generally sleep with my mates.'

But he gave me one of his puppy-dog looks and so I thought, oh, ok, it's not very comfy down here. 'But NO FUNNY BUSINESS!'

I thought he was completely disregarding this instruction when he got into bed naked. I knew for sure he was disregarding it when he started groping me. With his penis.

'Look, I told you, we're just mates now, this isn;t going to happen.'

'But why not? Why can't we be mates who sleep together?'

'Because that's just messy, I don't do messy...'

This conversation continued along much the same lines but with more and more added snogging for about an hour. And then I suddenly thought to myself, 'hang on, here is a 24 year old that I fancy the arse off, begging me to have sex with him. And I WANT to have sex with him. So why the hell am I saying no?'

And that is the closest I have come to playing hard to get with him. Pathetic aren't I? :-(

But at least the bed got a damn good testing.

I was late to hydro the next morning, but I decided the way to go was to brazen it out.

'Sorry I'm late, I have no excuse aside from being an utter slut who's had no sleep cos I've spent the whole night shagging a boy.'

Luckily only M_ had got there before me, and she just wanted an excuse to believe that me and Circus Boy were destined to be together, and here it was. So we had a nice morning chatting about what had happened and how and all the gory details.

Cos by this time I was fulfilling my own 'messy' prophecy. That morning he'd had a bad back, so I'd done a bit of naked fixing it (that isn't a euphemism, I quite literally did naked physio). And then on my way to work I'd dropped him outside his house cos it was chucking it down with rain, and he'd sat chatting for ages (whilst I held up half the town due to inconsiderate abandoning of the car rather than proper parking - but I'd thought he'd just jump out). Then as he went into his driveway he turned to blow me a kiss as I drove past. It's that sort of thing that makes me sort of fall a bit in love with a person. But that is the old me, so while my heart was still being an idiot like it has for the whole of my life, my head was telling me this was another 'hot' and that could only mean that 'cold' was on the way.

'I promised I'd add him on facebook'

'So have you?' asked M_

'Have I heck as like. If he really did want me to be his fb friend, he'd send a request himself.'

Then that evening he confounded all expectations. He texted to find out how the orthopaedic appointment had gone. It was the last thing I expected, really thoughtful.

So maybe things were changing, maybe he was ditching the hot and cold?

We will never know, because I was about to screw things up between us BIG TIME.....