Read Online The Last Year of Being Single by Sarah Tucker - Free Book Online
Authors: Sarah Tucker
Ads: Link
but had never finished it. Somehow wish she had.
11th November
The Friday.
Message received:
Hi there. Love you. P
xxxxx
Respond :
Love you too.xxxxx
Message received:
What are you doing today?
Respond :
On a training course. In Sussex.
Message received:
Have fun. Love you.xx
Respond:
Will do.
What am I doing? Betraying the sweet guy I’ve known for five years with someone I know to be both devil and deep blue sea entwined. Perhaps it’s the danger and immorality of it all that attracts me. I’ve never done anything very wrong in my life. But surely this is morally wrong? Well, no, I’m not married, am I? And Paul hasn’t proposed, has he? And we’re not having sex, are we? And we haven’t for years, have we? So why not? Amazing how you can logic things out so quickly when you want to. Even when you’re wrong.
I think that’s what men do with their logic. Men automatically think they are right all the time. It’s their mothers. They bring them up to think they can do no wrong. Firstborn are the worst. I can understand why Herod wanted to get rid of them. It was nothing to do with Christianity. It was probably the fact he got so pissed off with men who were first sons being boorish and phenomenally arrogant all the time. I blame the mothers. Anyway, when Paul does something wrong he makes me think it’s my fault. Somehow my behaviour leads to him behaving the way hedoes. So it’s nothing to do with him. It’s natural. It’s nature. It’s excusable. No, not even that. It’s right, and validated, and therefore I must be in the wrong.
Problem is, this screwed-up logic is catching, so now I validate actions which really are morally wrong. Like the phone call. Like the meeting with John. It’s wrong. But, hey, I haven’t had sex with Paul for years. He isn’t treating me well. We haven’t been getting on recently. But I love him. But he doesn’t understand. So be discreet. And flirt with someone else who makes you feel sexy and wanted and womanly. But that’s not wrong. That’s just being natural. It’s nature. It’s right.
Woke up at eight a.m., knowing I was doing the right thing. Full of the joys of spring despite it being November. Speak to Karen about how I feel. Karen listens. Says nothing. Says it’s natural and it’s nature and I’m right and Paul should treat me better. I tell her what I want her to hear so she validates my feelings and ideas. But I’m using male logic here. So I’m right and I know it.
Karen—‘You’re right. Go for it.’
Sarah—‘I’m being logical and doing what’s natural—right?’
Karen—‘Go for it. Whether you’re right or not. Go for it. A man in your shoes would have left years ago. No sex? No sex is ridiculous. You’ve tried to talk but he won’t talk. You love him, you say, and he loves you, he says. But actions speak louder than words, and his words are empty. There’s something wrong with him, Sarah. Deal with it. Face it. You are. Just not straight. John is a crutch. He may not be Mr Right either, but at least he’s Mr Right Now and he’ll sleep with you.’
John’s asked me over to his little yellow cottage in Redhill. For a drink. After work. I tell Paul I’ll be late home. He’s already working late, so he won’t miss me. He says he will and makes me feel guilty by saying he was thinking ofcancelling his night out with the boys. I say, no. You enjoy it. You have fun. I’ll be OK. Some boring course about customer focus and how you can get more by giving more. The irony is wasted on him.
I speak to newspapers about editorial. Meet advertising company in Kings Cross with posh offices. Fantasising about John and his little yellow cottage. He has told me about his cats, Hannah and Jessica. Hannah is fluffy and scatty and lovely. Jessica is beautiful and proud and arrogant. He loves both of them. His tone softens when he talks about them. He talks in the same tone as when he talks about English beer…and my legs. I
11th November
The Friday.
Message received:
Hi there. Love you. P
xxxxx
Respond :
Love you too.xxxxx
Message received:
What are you doing today?
Respond :
On a training course. In Sussex.
Message received:
Have fun. Love you.xx
Respond:
Will do.
What am I doing? Betraying the sweet guy I’ve known for five years with someone I know to be both devil and deep blue sea entwined. Perhaps it’s the danger and immorality of it all that attracts me. I’ve never done anything very wrong in my life. But surely this is morally wrong? Well, no, I’m not married, am I? And Paul hasn’t proposed, has he? And we’re not having sex, are we? And we haven’t for years, have we? So why not? Amazing how you can logic things out so quickly when you want to. Even when you’re wrong.
I think that’s what men do with their logic. Men automatically think they are right all the time. It’s their mothers. They bring them up to think they can do no wrong. Firstborn are the worst. I can understand why Herod wanted to get rid of them. It was nothing to do with Christianity. It was probably the fact he got so pissed off with men who were first sons being boorish and phenomenally arrogant all the time. I blame the mothers. Anyway, when Paul does something wrong he makes me think it’s my fault. Somehow my behaviour leads to him behaving the way hedoes. So it’s nothing to do with him. It’s natural. It’s nature. It’s excusable. No, not even that. It’s right, and validated, and therefore I must be in the wrong.
Problem is, this screwed-up logic is catching, so now I validate actions which really are morally wrong. Like the phone call. Like the meeting with John. It’s wrong. But, hey, I haven’t had sex with Paul for years. He isn’t treating me well. We haven’t been getting on recently. But I love him. But he doesn’t understand. So be discreet. And flirt with someone else who makes you feel sexy and wanted and womanly. But that’s not wrong. That’s just being natural. It’s nature. It’s right.
Woke up at eight a.m., knowing I was doing the right thing. Full of the joys of spring despite it being November. Speak to Karen about how I feel. Karen listens. Says nothing. Says it’s natural and it’s nature and I’m right and Paul should treat me better. I tell her what I want her to hear so she validates my feelings and ideas. But I’m using male logic here. So I’m right and I know it.
Karen—‘You’re right. Go for it.’
Sarah—‘I’m being logical and doing what’s natural—right?’
Karen—‘Go for it. Whether you’re right or not. Go for it. A man in your shoes would have left years ago. No sex? No sex is ridiculous. You’ve tried to talk but he won’t talk. You love him, you say, and he loves you, he says. But actions speak louder than words, and his words are empty. There’s something wrong with him, Sarah. Deal with it. Face it. You are. Just not straight. John is a crutch. He may not be Mr Right either, but at least he’s Mr Right Now and he’ll sleep with you.’
John’s asked me over to his little yellow cottage in Redhill. For a drink. After work. I tell Paul I’ll be late home. He’s already working late, so he won’t miss me. He says he will and makes me feel guilty by saying he was thinking ofcancelling his night out with the boys. I say, no. You enjoy it. You have fun. I’ll be OK. Some boring course about customer focus and how you can get more by giving more. The irony is wasted on him.
I speak to newspapers about editorial. Meet advertising company in Kings Cross with posh offices. Fantasising about John and his little yellow cottage. He has told me about his cats, Hannah and Jessica. Hannah is fluffy and scatty and lovely. Jessica is beautiful and proud and arrogant. He loves both of them. His tone softens when he talks about them. He talks in the same tone as when he talks about English beer…and my legs. I
Similar Books
