‘Come on,’ you called ‘let’s spend the evening together. We’ll have fun!’.
I was torn. Undecided. I had planned a trip to the cinema with a friend tonight. I had you all to myself the last three nights, but still, I was tempted. It was becoming routine, more serious now but always a very attractive proposition.
I enjoyed being with you and you’re right; it is fun. You make me feel special, beautiful and tell me I am charming and clever. I enjoy being a little wild and carefree with you. We are extravagant; money is no object. I can forget all my troubles and I’m freed from mundane responsibilities in daily life. My other commitments lose their importance in comparison to spending more time with you.
We have spent several nights together, until the small hours of the morning anyway. I’ve noticed you never stay the whole night. When I wake up at 3am, you have gone. Sometimes I am glad about this because my sparkle has subsided and I am tired, restless and can feel a headache developing. Sometimes I need you though. Times when I am sick or feeling anxious but you don’t care about the bad times. You do not care about my health or wealth. You are a fickle, fair-weather friend.
In the morning I pop pills and cram carbs and vow not to see you again. I will ignore your calls and will not be led astray. You are not good for me; my nan would have called you a ‘bad ‘un’ and I agree. We’re finished.
By lunchtime I wonder if I’ve over-reacted and been too hard on you. We each have our faults and you are no different. Besides, I love you. I want you.
In the middle of the afternoon I decide I will answer when you call. And you will call. You call each day around five o’clock. Sometimes earlier, occasionally later but you always come back.
I agree to see you again tonight despite my better judgement. Deep down I know you are no good but I am drawn to you regardless. I cannot say ‘No’.
I call my friend and plead off the cinema trip, claiming a headache. It’s not really a lie: I did have a headache today although it is almost gone now. I can hear the disappointment in her voice and feel bad that she had arranged a baby-sitter specially.
I do not dwell on my guilt. Instead I reach up for my favourite heavy crystal glass. Next, I go to the fridge and open the door. There you are, reliable as ever, waiting for me to take you out so we can spend time together.
I unscrew your top and listen to the satisfying glug you make as you fill my glass with amber nectar. I sit back and relax, waiting for you to bring the feel good factor back to me once again.