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  Wed 19th October 2016

Friday, an uneventful Riesling tasting at the local wine company shop; then it was into town to up the average age a little at a techno night organised by a Society at the University. Pleasant young people, a bit bemused at someone so old being there; then, after you passing some invisible testing process, they start talking to you. "Where are you from?" -- the decades-old standard dancefloor opener.

But they can't dance. Their movements are forced, imported to their bodies; they stand about texting and facebooking on the dancefloor. Hardly anyone on anything. It was a flat, alcohol-fuelled night. I lasted two hours then left for a home disco.


Out of nowhere, or rather, out of two bottles of Prosecco, Trina unleashes another round midnight volley of texted bile. I am "self-centred", "destined to be lonely", "a fucking idiot"...and then I stopped reading them. The following morning, the cyclical apologies of the drunkard, promising me that she won't send any more nasty texts.

She's finding looking after her pissing and shitting, nappied, ninety-two-year-old mother a strain, so for the hundredth time, I overlook what she has sent me and offer to come over with a bottle or two.

We make chutney from apples from a neighbour before she starts getting wet-eyed, about my unwillingness to "commit" to her. Why the fuck would I do that, when I don't fancy you, and you've got the emotional maturity of a fourteen-year-old? It is a dull, circular subject.

She drives me back to the station. Back in Lancaster, there is some standard issue rock band in a local pub, but it's a relief to be superficial after Trina's intensity. At £3.50 a pint, I made one drink last all night.

I notice a succession of texts from her; do not read them.

In the morning, I get halfway through a series of texts following the same pattern as the night before. In a desert somewhere west of Quernmore, a straw breaks a camel's back. I find out how to change my mobile number, and do so. I inform Trina of the fact, but not the new number.

Another morning, another load of bile on my phone. I came over yesterday to be sympathetic and to cheer you up, and this is the thanks I get.

You are correct in saying that your latest tirade at me will be the last, since I have asked 02 to change my number to finally stop having to hear any more of your constant attacks on me, and your obsession about Wendy. And you call this loving me? If this is your idea of love then you can shove it up your arse. If it was a man doing it to a woman you'd be up in arms about it, calling it sexist harassment. However, I know how much you enjoy a teenagerish drama, so if you want to get any more vituperative bile out of your system, do it quickly because they have said that a number change takes up to four hours to process. I won't be reading anything further from you however.

I will tell my mum [who is visiting this week] that I don't know what your plans are or whether or not you'll be in touch. If there is an unavoidable need to contact me, please do it by email.

You say you don't want to see me except in "safe social social situations". I'd rather not see you at all, in any situation, but I will make an exception this week for my mum's sake. However, I don't want to spend any more time with you than is absolutely necessary. If in the future we meet anywhere where we both happen to be you can expect a brief civility and nothing more.

"Good." She replied. "Goodbye."

I distribute my new number. Later in the morning, Wendy rings and I outline what has happened. We arrange to meet in the pub. She sits down slenderly. She tells me that Trina texted Kitty at 1am saying that it's obvious I don't love her and love only Wendy, hoping that they can meet up at some point, and ending it "Girl power!" She hasn't replied.

I go off to meet my mum and take her to Kirsty's, where she is staying. We sit around chatting easily enough. Kirsty makes a fish pie for tea, to which I am not invited. I am cooking for all of them tomorrow. It wouldn't occur to me to exclude Kirsty.


I've got a date with an art teacher on Thursday. We should have spent more time emailing and talking on the phone to build something up. By the time I went to meet Trish for the first time, our written and spoken communication had turned very sexual. Walking into the pub and seeing her looking even sexier than I had dare hope, felt like a consummation in itself.

I'll never refuse being asked out by a woman, but my gut feeling is that it'll be jobs, family, children, holidays, thanks, goodbye.

3 comments

Comment from: kono [Visitor]

The advent of social media has made all the kiddies narcissists, of course that goes for alot of people our age as well, instead of dancing and doing drugs and having a good time they text and post to social media about what a good time they are supposedly having, poor kids will never know…

Smart move on the Trina front, a maudlin, angry drunk is no fun, seems from what i’ve read you’ve laid it out to her many times but she refuses to see things for what they are, best to get on with it and find new women to love, lol… like an art teacher, you never know , i’ve dated a few art school girls in my time and they were always great fun, nudge nudge wink wink, yeah as we get older most of us get let interesting and fun but for those of us who stay interesting and fun it’s a bonus, i’ve found women are always curious about those of us who refuse to conform even when they are the bastion of conformity, i know i gotta watch out here in the burbs cuz i’ve picked up on some bad vibes from hubby’s who worry that the art star/indie rock daddio is making their wife’s panties wet… look forward to hearing about the date…

Wed 19th October 2016 @ 13:52
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

I’ve never lied to Trina and I do feel a degree of sympathy for her, but I just want to knock about with people who are good for me

And yes – over the years, I’ve realised my lifestyle can be an attraction for women. They’re curious, they want a bit of it. Thanks kono, you’ve made me feel a bit less prematurely disenchanted about tomorrow, by reminding me of the issolute nature of some art-world girls.

Wed 19th October 2016 @ 14:57

konos comments/advice is the best. Always is.

You could’ve just blocked her number. You didn’t have to go through the whole new number dance. I had to block my brother’s number recently. He wouldn’t texting about Trump. What a great man he is. What a crook Hillary is. Every day. I couldn’t take it anymore so I blocked him. Haven’t spoken since August. Our longest break speaking ever. Do you know what makes me saddest? I don’t really miss talking to him.

Sat 22nd October 2016 @ 23:51


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