Didn’t have too bad a weekend. We both had a good weeks work in and income from other sources bumped this up nicely to a decent level. A few bills can be paid and the domestic ennui balances for a while. Is this happiness?
Felsons Wine Bar has finished its conversion to Harleys Sports Bar and the weekly pilgrimage to educate the deep houseless massive continues apace. On Friday and Saturday. The latter turned out to be a more accomplished night with Theo and Rosie and myself sharing the honours. My little pep talk with Rosie last week began to show some signs of badly unravelling. I told her that Tracey - Mikes 19 year old girlfriend - had told me that she was sick and tired of Rosie flirting badly, or is that madly?, with Mike. ‘Throwing herself’ on him at every opportunity. Rosie got well upset with this and was crying quite openly without shame in front of everyone in the bar. Nero, engrossed in her depression and being very quiet, politely asked me why Rosie was crying. I mentioned that what I was about to say was to be taken in confidence and not repeated to anyone. She agreed. so I told her.
Later that night I told Rosie about Cagey’s theory that whenever a 50g pack of Golden Virginia went missing off the table it was always Rosie that stole it. That she never buys any tobacco but merely helps herself to other peoples packets.
By Sunday night Rosie had recovered somewhat and we were all down the Tank jollying it up on Budvar and social intercourse. Rosie belatedly thanked me for the Tracey info about Mike and emphasised that, information about what people say about you to other people when you are not there can be very useful in assessing their qualities as a friend. But, here's the rub, as long as they don’t find out that what they have said has got back to the person concerned. This way the information cleaned from friends about gossip about you is dangerous info that you are not supposed to really know about. But do. This puts you in a theoretical position of power over the gossippee. Particularly if the info gleaned is of a negative connotation and may be damaging to you if ignorance prevailed.
So, we’re listening to music from Shaun, Rosie and Oz. We’re sitting, boasting a number of balding, swag bellied individuals with adolescent cuties in tow, around the large table easy in each others company. Gary, John, Jayne ans all or new friends; the lot of us. We haven’t been together in this particular group for a while so the conversation is whipping around the table openly and quickly. It rips. It's all really about the middle aged need for new, interesting experiences that brings us back to a youthful level of excitement. Suddenly Rosie goes to Cagey: ‘So the latest gossip is that you think I steal everyone’s tobacco from the table?’
She leaves it open as a question so he has to reply. ‘Yes’, he says to her. ‘Do you?’ Then to me ‘Cheers mate’.
‘Of course I bloody don’t’, she yells, and I explain to her in front of la Cage, the very theory I have been espousing above of respecting the confidences of your friends who tell you this privileged information. That if you confront the primary source of this info, i.e. the person who said it in the first place, you can, and do, jeopardise the whole balance of relationships.
I politely told Rosie to shut up. Cagey was of course pissing himself with laughter. Rosie apologised for her faux pas but did remind me that the other thing I’d mentioned (wink, wink) had not been put in front of (wink) and she was still oblivious to Rosie’s knowledge of her thoughts.
Later after packing up and dropping the equipment off, Nero remarked how Tracey was well pissed off with me for telling Rosie that that she was pissed off with Rosie for flirting with Mike. ‘How the fuck did Tracey find out what Rosie knew? I’ve talked to Rosie about this and she assures me that he has said absolutely nothing to anyone about it’.
So she casually turned round and said. ‘Well, when Rosie was crying I asked her about it and she told me what you had said. Then, at work, I told Emily...’ ‘....Who then told Tracey?’ I say. ‘You got it’. Robin Monk, the guy who dogged Nero solidly and blatantly right in front of me for two years totally embarrassed his drunken arse down at Harleys on Fri. I only mention this because of something Nero said to me on Sunday night. Somehow, we were outside the front door of the Mansions, his name came up and I was doing my usual thing of telling her how upset I had been and how I knew what he was up to (still is up to) regarding Nero and is total lack of respect for me and everything.
So she casually turns round to me and says: ‘You know at that time when you stopped us socialising...’
‘Yeah... .’ say I.
‘Well it was just as well you did’.
‘Why's that Nero?’
Because I would have gone for it’
Even three years later that still hurt quite a bit I can tell you. Another wedge was driven between us. Doesn’t matter too much to me because she was my real true love. I love her and always will but to be betrayed years into a relationship by her and that guy flirting outrageously in front of me for a year. Well, that finished our relationship off really. It’s never been the same since and never will be. Yeah I still love her and want her but she doesn’t me. We’re stuck in this post betrayal end zone where neither can move. My feeling, I hope, are getting colder and colder towards her as her are towards me. Hopefully one day we’ll do the decent thing and put the relationship down just for the sake of the memory of what went on before.
Don’t tell anyone I told you that OK?