Feeling a little fragile today, it has to be said… B’s work Christmas do last night, and squeezed into my new dress and my feet somehow wedged into my highest heels, we headed off to the hotel out by Heathrow where the party was held. As much fun as it was, I am paying the price today – my head is pounding and I feel quite queasy. Good job we’re about to trek across London to get my mother back here, just what I need right now: London traffic. Never mind. I do need mummy cuddles and have been going out of my mind knowing she’s in town yet not staying with me, so it’ll be like conditioner for my soul to finally lay eyes on this incredible woman I am fortunate enough to be able to call my mother.
Last night was really good, B looked crazy hot in his black dress trousers and the shiny charcoal grey shirt I got for him – a Jason Statham come mafioso – and I felt unbelievably smug being the one he was there with and who he kissed every so often.
What dawned on me last night, was when his friend and colleague C came to chat to us. It dawned on me that C might just feel a little resentful that I have kind of taken his partner in crime away from him. Not that I have, mind – if anything, I encourage nights out and would never dream of giving B shit for wanting to go out on a bender with C or whoever else. Of course, back then, B was – just like C – in a miserable and loveless marriage and I suppose the two of them had each other to rely on for big nights out, going to strip bars and generally misbehaving. About a month ago, they’d arranged to go out. Cool with me (what else?). Then B had to go to Amsterdam with work and announced that no way did he want to be away from me for more than one night that week. (Oh, I know, gosh am I lucky).
So that was that. Their big night never happened. But I do wonder what C might think. Does he think I’m a dictator girlfriend who has B under my thumb? Not that it matters, but it did pop in to my mind last night. I suppose that’s the difference right there, and it’s the same for me – rewind back to when I was married and I was with a person I didn’t actually like that much, pretty much like B. Someone I didn’t have anything in common with, and who was never my best friend. Of bloody course you’d in that scenario rely more on friends to sustain that stuff within you – friends you can relate to when your partner happens to be somebody who is foreign to you, and friends you can have fun with and be yourself with when the person you happen to be shackled to is only someone who happens to live in the same house as you do.
And what happens when you end up with your best friend? It’s clear for me. I no longer have the same need to see my friends, because my best friend and the person I want to share everything with is right here. There is no longer any need to off-load any stuff elsewhere like I used to. And for B it’s the same. No more hiding, lying or living a double life where you have to pretend to be something or someone you’re not, yet feeling stifled and held back. Being with your best friend is liberating. Once you’re with the person who makes you flourish, blossom and grow, as opposed to what B and I both had before, which was being tied to people we A) didn’t like all that much, and who B) pretty much killed who we were and/or wanted to be.
I’m so lucky. Our life is so good, I love everything in it and all that we have together. I’m not B’s ex-wife, so when I say “all that we have”, unlike that crazy greedy nutter I’m not focusing on ripping him off or counting the value of stuff. We probably don’t have all that much, in fairness. What I mean by “all that we have” is our love for each other, how we make do because we are so happy and how we don’t need anything in order to wake up each morning in each others’ arms and feel gratitude. I swear I’d live under a bridge so long as it’s with B and Monkey.