I don't know what the universe is playing at.
Today was a good day. Everything was going well. I got up on time and fed the cat. I made it to the appointment to have my legs waxed, on time, scoring a car park outside the salon. Lucifer is happily asleep on his throne. I even managed to find the vegan cheese at the supermarket - yes, vegan cheese. It's the cheese you get when you're off dairy - and it's not bad - but you find it with all the hippy shit, like the falafel and tofu instead of in the actual cheese section. It goes nicely with the gluten free bread I use. And it toasted up nicely in the microwave toastie maker I got myself for Christmas.
Coming home from the supermarket, I collected the mail. There was a letter from my MP, a small packet with something I'd ordered over the last few days and a Christmas Card.
Like, who sends Christmas Cards? I don't. Not any more anyway.
The card was hand-written, the writing vaguely familiar. Maybe Reindert, I thought. He has serial killer handwriting.
The card went in my bag as I parked the car.
Coming in, I looked at the card again.
It was from England. Posted in Tyneside - for those who aren't up on English geography, that's up around Newcastle-on-Tyne. Up North where they talk funny.
Dammit.
Him.
Him who hasn't made any contact for about three years. He, who's number I've removed from my phone. Him, who I've been telling myself that he's walked into the sea never to return (not that I wish him dead, but it's easier to think him that way, as he can do me no more harm in that state). He, who has messed be about royally for many, many years.
I thought I was shot of him. I don't have an address for him, other that the knowledge he was living just north of Newcastle. I've blocked his email. I've not made any contact for those three years.
For the rest of the day, I've been a bit a bit discombobulated. I was really hoping I'd not hear from him again. He had his chance. I let him live rent free in my head for years - but no more. I mean, who sends you a card which reads "To a lovely friend." The card had a dog on it. Nobody gets me Christmas cards with a dog on it (cats are the go, even though I love dogs).
But I want to know what the universe is playing at? I'm starting to gently put it out there that maybe I'm ready for a new relationship. I'm thinking about putting my profile up on internet dating sites. I'm in a good place emotionally.
And he goes and gets in contact.
There was no return address on the envelope. I couldn't send it back.
I'm probably overreacting, but I was happier thinking he was no longer around.
Or maybe this is the universe's way of reminding me of exactly what I don't want, need or like - and to take good care of myself.
I don't need this.
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