Unlike many other bloggers, I don't really tell my readers what I'm doing in my day-to-day life; what I'm wearing, what I have for breakfast etc. Its generally quite deep. However, to set up today's post, however, you are going to learn what last 48 (ish) hours in the life of me has been like.
I'll start off on Saturday, which is the day after the birthday drinks celebration we had for my mother - and when we all met Malcolm X, the lizard. It was, as I'm sure you can imagine after drinking heavily - although on the night not feeling the effects, the hangover was bang on form - it was a very lazy, quiet and grouchy day in the household. Most of the population waking up around lunchtime then reaching for the sofa for some much needed extra chill-out time. We did however manage to muster up some strength to get some clothes on, wallets out and into a car around 3pm or 4pm. Destination? Beach bar. For some food, and obviously, a couple more cheeky celebratory drinks for my mothers birthday. It was really nice, I'm sure this is the first time in quite a few years that my immediate family have all been together for someones birthday.
We had managed to find a table and order some grub. We found my step-brother on the beach in some bright pink shorts - who had been in the country about 2 or 3 hours, before dropping his clothes in his bedroom and heading back out to the beach bar for some drinks. Screw loose. My parents decided to leave after an hour or two, the boys and I decided to stay to carry on my mothers birthday celebration. Honest. We ended up staying at the bar as I knew the football would be on later, so in the meantime I had decided if I was going to get drunk that night I would need a bit more ammo than just a pint of watered down Carlsberg, or a single JD and coke. So we ordered bullfrogs. Found out it was happy hour from 4pm till 7pm, I don't remember the number, but if I said I had had around 10 of them, I don't think I'd be too far off being right. Later we had decided to move on to a different bar after a disappointing loss in the football, only to be reminded by my younger brother that whilst wearing shorts, we are not going to get in many places. A quick hop home, jeans on, back in taxi, sorted.We get to our destination, which I have been to once before and had an experience to remember.. or not as the case goes. Basically a hooker joint. For me its quite a good place to go, its just like been in a gay bar, I'm not interested whatsoever what is going on around me, what people do at the end of the night but in the mean time I can have a good time, forget about real life and maybe even have a dance. Granted, its not somewhere I would go for a couple of quiet drinks and rewind, but every now and then, in this capacity its quite nice to let loose. My younger brother then decided that after a couple of hours, this place wasn't for him, came to tell me he was leaving so after making sure he had enough money in his pocket to get home and a phone with him, I saw him off. Myself and Gaz decided to stay for an hour or two before heading home ourselves, it was a good night, ticked all the boxes. Drink enough alcohol to kill a small family of horses. Check. Deep conversation. Check. Things you don't do when sober. Check. Almost, fight. Check. And of course the obvious haggling of some girl trying to pose her self upon us for which started off as 1000dhs and eventually told us just give her 200dhs, obviously seeing her chances of getting any money all night slimming by the minute, I gave her 50dhs, said go home, your worth more than selling yourself like this, and so am I, which is when we left.
It had been full circle, woke up feeling like my arse was in my mouth, got back on it, had some crazy times, slept and woke up feeling like my arse was in my mouth. Sunday was a horrible day for me, but at least I had gotten through the night without waking up sweating thinking about things I don't want to be thinking about right now. Sunday consisted of waking up around 2pm, blogging, drinking more than I weigh in water and generally feeling sorry for myself now that the thoughts of the previous night and 'the one whose name we do not mention' started to creep their way back in. Again, when everyone had gotten home from work - which is something I was so grateful for not having to do - it was a case of getting some food, chilling out with Independence Day on the telly and one-by-one heading upstairs to bed. I retired around 9pm, reasonable time. Only to find myself at 1.30am wake up sweating, tears in my eyes, shaking and my heart pounding from dreaming about and missing 'the one whose name we do not mention'. :(
So, there I am, 1.30am, still feeling hungover, tears in my eyes and shaking like a leaf in the wind. I was a mess, a complete and utter state. Men are supposed to be strong, protectors and not be like I was last night, I felt ashamed to be reduced to this.. by her. I have been coping quite well I think, but then again I have had a tirade of help support from friends and family, and almost letting their thoughts and feelings over power my own so I can stop hurting so bad. Although, when your asleep you cannot fool your self anymore. Its horrible. So now, its early hours of the morning, most of the people in UAE are asleep, Facebook is dead with life and most of my UK friends are in bed as its late-ish and Monday morning when they next wake up. Nightmare.
I manage to speak to one of my good friends, Ruth - she has been a rock for me this past week and always gives a fresh honest opinion as well as a supportive blanket for me to cover myself with when I need it. I talked to Ruth and told her I had done something stupid, I told her I had found the guy my ex was talking to dirtily to and told her I had messaged him very politely and asked him what had gone on. To this point still no reply. Even after doing this I felt like shit, I was feeling naive, vulnerable and feel like even now I am still being taken for a mug. Messaging him, wasn't enough though. I wanted to talk to my ex and speak to her directly, find out some answers. Ruth had asked me 'What do you want to hear?', I told her I wanted to hear the truth and find some answers as to why she had done what she has done, Ruth replied and told me until 'if that's what you want then you should do it because until you find out those answers, you cannot have closure.'. Very true words. I managed to find her CV through my emails, pick out her number and message her. It was long.
At around 4.30am, a couple of hours of sending the message I decided to head back to bed, something I wasn't particularly looking forward to as I knew as soon as I lay down and my head hits that pillow, my thoughts are not my own and I cannot control what i think about. I was right, it was carnage. I decided to entertain my self with apps on my phone in hope I would just naturally fall asleep. Didn't work. I tried to recap the adventures of the night before. Didn't work. I even tried to do the A-Z of french footballers that had ever played in the English Premier League. Again, didn't work.
Whilst looking through my apps on my phone, I came across my horoscope which mentioned 'you are going ahead with a project and not sure how successful it will be' and 'one thing you haven't considered is that a benevolent force is watching over you and helping you out. If you can manage a little faith, then you will be able to tap into its positive force'. Its all very Hocus Pocus and I normally disregard this stuff as exactly that. However, recently I am clutching at straws to find anything positive in order to feel positive. I took what the horoscope had said and I did what I thought was 'praying to god'. I'm not a religious person by any means, but will try anything in this situation for positive help. I spoke to 'god' and asked for two things, and in a round about way, what I asked for, had been given to me in some way or another.
The first thing I asked for was that my ex reply to my text message and explain thoroughly why she did what she did, so I can move on. The other was to provide me with all of the PMA in the world, so I can feel like myself again.
I woke up this morning and instead of feeling a bird that has just hit the window of a fast moving, heavy lorry. I felt like my questions had been answered, I woke up from a dream in which I had had a friendly, long healthy chat with my ex about exactly what I wanted to know, the venue was the house I spent most of my childhood - probably where I feel the most comfortable - and although it was a dream, it was so vivid and has made me feel so much better about everything. I haven't received a text message back off her, so I tried to call her today, told her it was me and she hung up the phone before I could say another word. After trying for about an hour, 3 or 4 calls, I sent her an email - about the size of this blog - so she knows I don't want to fight with her, just looking for answers. I'm not expecting a reply. In some ways, I would now be happier to believe what I felt in my dream. It was perfect, she told me what I wanted to hear, I got things off my chest and it ended like I want it to end. Whether it is real or not, whether it is God's way of helping me or not, who cares. I feel better about things and to me, right now I'll take that. I feel like I have made my peace with the situation and now have to have a little faith that things will pick up, and I am sure, in time, when I arrive in Thailand. They will.
JC
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