Day 4: Return of ‘the girl’…

Chronology in this blog will definitely be a nightmare for some people. I will probably jump forwards backwards and in-between several times. I like to tell stories as they are relevant to each day. I also find a mixed up narrative quite exciting as you never know where each day will take us. My plan was to address the conclusion of ‘the girl’ story at a later point.

I may have created a new classic villain archetype as many of you have expressed you want to find out the conclusion to that particular chapter of my life. I concede to the masses and without further ado I present to you the conclusion of that tale….

Confrontation is a funny thing. Many people struggle with it, many thrive on it. I myself don’t particularly enjoy it, however I can go toe to toe with Mike Tyson if so required. I think it was probably more shocking to my mummy that I had reverted from type to as I previously stated a shell of my former self. That is the thing about systematic bullying. It has a deep impact. I had no physical wounds. None whatsoever. Inside I was haemorrhaging.

Anyone who knew my mummy would know that she was a women who hated any form of conflict. As you read through the months you will picture her fully just as I do. She was very kind, very generous and liked the quiet life. She didn’t like to complain in restaurants. She would never send food back. She avoided conflict completely. The thing about nature though is even the most meek and mild lioness will defend her cubs to the death when needed. My mummy was like that.

Myself and ‘the girl’ had been living in my new apartment for a couple of months at this stage. The relationship had completely broke down. Their were moments where I got sparks of hope and thought… she is coming around. This one particular weekend she seemed in great spirits. We chatted a bit more than was custom at the time, we even laughed a little. Our normal routine up to this point had been living almost separate lives. We worked together but did not speak. Made separate meals. She watched television in her room as soon as her meal was finished. It was like living in a house where the couple has separated but cannot afford to physically separate.

So the weekend in question all hope came rushing back. I thought to myself “I bet we get back on track now, this is it after a bad patch”. I remember asking her what she had planned this weekend as she spent most of her weekends now at her boyfriends while I sat alone in the house, no friends to speak of, just me.

“nothing really, anyway I’m just nipping out see you later”.

So I was sitting that evening and browsing through Facebook as you do as I had nothing better to do and then I seen where she had went.

Alton Towers.

It was her, ‘Cathy’ and the third girl who I used to live with. Having a great time. It broke my heart in two.

I got straight onto Mummy to tell her what hat happened. I cannot recall the exact words of wisdom she had to impart as I was likely a mess of hysterical crying and anger. I do know she questioned why I still let this person take advantage of me. I didn’t know why, well I did. Without her I would have no one.

The next part of our tale involves a character, an old friend who we shall call Lady Constance. Lady Constance and myself were friends back in Ireland. He (yes he) was a very vivacious and bold personality who could overshadow Lenny Henry. Lady Constance was the type of friend who you would have to prewarn other people about. We all know those friends. We love them but they also get a “so before you meet them, you should know….”. We all have a lady Constance lurking in our lives.

Myself, Lady Constance and Dazzles (more on him soon) were all friends from in Ireland. Three Gay men growing up In Northern Ireland we had previously came on trips to Manchester and specifically the shiny haven that is Canal Street. Manchester was our Oasis in the harsh world and I was the first one to take the plunge. Lady Constance was next. She had decided to move over after meeting a young man at a conference in London who happened to be from Manchester. It sounds crazy now but at the time it seemed perfectly normal, particularly for a young homosexual man.

SO the dates were set lady Constance was arriving in what one would assume was a Pink Pony Parade of Sparkling Glitter. I think the ash could woke up for one day and sprayed rainbow glitter everywhere for his arrival. I was ecstatic!!!

I had a friend coming.

I told ‘the girl’ the exciting news that Lady Constance was moving her estate to England to resume her peer privileges across the pond. Her response was encouraging as she looked out from under that dark, long fringe with her bulbus eyes:

“ok.”

Me and Lady Constance were on the wireless everyday planning everything from his transfer to work to his potential living arrangements. Everything was set, he had planned to move over with his cousin. The only problem. He could not get an apartment for 2 weeks. “not a problem”, I said. “I have a blow up mattress you and you cousin can stay with me until then”. I cant recall the exact reaction from ‘the girl’ however I’m sure that dark long fringe twitched to the point of almost showing emotion.

The timing probably could not have been worse as it was the exact same two weeks my mother was coming to stay. I rang her and explained the situation. To say she was less than thrilled would be a understatement. I explained that she would stay in my room and id sleep on the sofa while Constance and cousin would sleep on the blow up mattress. It would be grand. I was determined to make it work as I was craving human contact like those poor starving people from the movie ‘Alive’ were craving food.

So they all arrived safe and sound . Sure it was cosy but we made it work. Mummy did her usual and prepared a feast for the first night everyone was there. ‘The girl’ arrived home from work and was greeted warmly by mummy (through gritted teeth I would imagine however she always carried herself with dignity). She asked ‘the girl’ to pull up a plate and have some dinner with us.

“No I’ve got some food in the fridge”

Mummy’s response was that of a scorned women, “FINE.”

later she would comment about how she felt really insulted by that action as it was as she called it “a wee girl willing to cut her nose of to spite her face!”.

That evening we laughed and giggled at the most random stories. I was verging on hyperactive as I was feeding off the company and friendly atmosphere I had craved for months. I felt like a heroine addict getting his first fix in days…. it was great!

That evening I looked at my Facebook to see the status of ‘the girl’, not words, just one emoji of a teary face…. Ill leave that there to digest as I still fail to fathom that reaction to the most hospitable women I’ve even known. Obviously this was unusual in her world.

SO we all settled into our new routine. Mummy was shopping up a storm while the rest of us went to work everyday. Mummy was going to get me a clothes dryer (maiden if you prefer) from somewhere one day as she had repeatedly commented I did not have one. I have no idea how I was drying my clothes unless some form of ancient drying witchcraft? She repeatedly asked the pair of us, ‘the girl’ and I, why we hadn’t bought one. I probably was too busy walking about sullen and moody to care to be honest. So mummy was proud as punch when I walked in to my brand new ‘maiden’. Look Michael you are a civilised human being now! No radiator drying for any son of mine!

The next day I was in work having a cigarette on my break, filthy habit I know however I was eating them at this point. I had a missed call from my mother. Strange? She knew I was in work so what was wrong? A sense of dread filled over me. I rang her back with no pause.

“Michael I have had a blazing row with ‘the girl’ I have stormed out of the apartment and told her she needs to move out!”

huh?

‘The girl’ was day off. Mummy started to explain through agitation and anger that she had opened her bedroom door to ask her a question. She looked in and what she saw caused her blood to boil.

A Maiden…. in her room.

Mummy called her into the living room straight away and the conversation and confrontation had became a thing of legend between us. She told ‘the girl’ that she was the most disrespectful women she had ever had the displeasure of meeting. How she was treating her son was disgusting and she had an ugly heart. Furthermore that she wasn’t even contributing any rent towards an apartment she was a guest in was appalling.

“my son is too kind to ask for rent, guess what, I’m not! you will pay back every penny you owe then madam you will get your nasty face out of this building for good!”.

As mummy was recalling the events that took place my stomach was churning. All I could think of was what would the repercussion be in work. I would get the retaliation ten fold. Then I started to think… what could be worse than what they are doing right now?

3 days came and went and DING DONG the witch was GONE!

Yes the next few months in work were uncomfortable but as I said no more than they had been. My mother gave me my dignity and freedom back. For the first time in my life since I moved to Manchester I was relieved. I was almost happy. Then I picked up the phone and rang Dazzles;

“When can you get here?”