Date Saturday 25 February Time 11.40pm
My thoughts and reflections:
Just made the mistake of filling Astrid in about last weekend and ending up in the middle of another marital cold-war.
Well, I didn’t tell her the Matthew bits but as I’d already told her I was going with Guy, it was too late to lie about that.
I should have said no to her, or at least let’s talk when you’re in a better mood but Astrid isn’t an easy person to put off, especially as she’d decided I was deliberately avoiding her.
‘I’ve barely seen you all week, Alice. Normally you’re always on the scavenge for something.
’ (Plus she’d opened a bottle of white wine and still hadn’t poured me a glass, so it was blackmail, effectively.)
Astrid didn’t mince her words about Guy.
‘Alice, he’s the type of man who tells you he’s treating you with respect by watching porn in front of you and not hiding the fact he’s sleeping with other women.
Plus he’s nearly twenty years older than you and he’s your boss.
This is one of your most stupid moves yet.
And that’s in a long history of dating lackwits.
How do you think this is going to turn out? ’
It was uncomfortably similar to the conversation I’d had with Matthew (don’t argue with lawyers) although at least I was getting snacks during this one.
Me: Plenty of successful relationships begin in the workplace.
Astrid: You’re planning on this being a long-term thing?
Me: Yes ( more confident than I felt, especially given he’s left me on read since yesterday ).
Astrid: So the fact he’s married doesn’t present an issue?
Me: I keep telling you they’re getting divorced.
Astrid: ( chopping carrots with the kind of precision that bodes well for her career change ) If you’re genuinely into it, how come you didn’t want Mum and Dad or Arrie to know?
Me: I’m totally into it.
Astrid: He’s old and he’s got hairy knuckles. He’s probably got hairy shoulders. And I bet he’s made it clear he appreciates a full Hollywood.
Me: ( impressively not rising to bait about pubes but intelligently using her own lawyerish approach against her. Hopefully correctly ) That’s rather ad hominem, Astrid. Surely we don’t need to resort to shaming others’ appearances?
Astrid: ( pausing her chopping and blinking rapidly, probably feeling a little in awe of my judicious use of Latin ) You’re right. Sorry. But I don’t see how you’re into him.
Me: ( deciding to end this conversation by pushing her own frigid buttons ) Well, he’s a highly proficient lover. In fact he does this thing where—
Astrid: Fine. You’re into the sex. Spare me. Apart from that, what have you even got in common?
Me: Loads. He’s fascinating. He knows lots about wine.
Astrid: ( over-confidence resumed despite my Latin) Oh my god, Alice. He’s one of those. You have to listen to him and I bet he doesn’t know anything about you.
Me: He does! He knows what I like in bed and… We’ve got loads in common.
Astrid: Yes. An interest in him.
In a rare moment of functional relationship-ship, she even drew Aziz, who was reading a journal over on the sofa, into the lambasting. ‘Tell her she’s a complete idiot, Aziz. In your professional opinion.’
‘As a therapist,’ I said, ‘I’m sure Aziz knows people fall in love at work all the time.’
Aziz was characteristically restrained; he didn’t look up from his journal. ‘It may be helpful to consider this relationship in the context of previous relationships,’ he answered.
‘As far as I remember,’ said Astrid, ‘she hasn’t had a decent relationship since Ollie.’
Aziz ignored her. ‘If you’ve experienced love in previous relationships and you’re seeking that in this one then there is a chance you’ll find it.
However, if this is a pattern of relationships that don’t work out, that don’t make you happy, you may want to consider if you’re seeking out partners that aren’t really available. And indeed why that might be.’
‘There you go, Alice,’ said Astrid. ‘Aziz thinks you’re an idiot.’
But then Aziz did something I wasn’t expecting. He stood up and looked at Astrid. ‘She’s no more of an idiot than I am, Astrid.’ Then he turned to me. ‘Maybe just think things through before you dive into marriage, Alice,’ he said, closing his journal and leaving the room.
I am letting go of:
The idea that there is such a thing as a happy ever after.