My birthday. I had treatments booked prior to going for the weekend to the Suffolk country house hotel, Ballingdon Hall near Sudbury, the very next day. It would be his birthday on the Friday evening. Hair colour. Waxing. Eyebrow tint.
Nic gave me a pair of ice-pink Juicy Couture tracksuit bottoms for lounging around in the hotel.
I had made sure we would each have a massage at the hotel, lovely food. I filled my car with diesel for the four-and-a-half-hour drive; I never, ever fill my car up, as I am always terrified of having no money. I made up Nic’s bed in the spare room, clean towels. Stocked up on dog food. Nic will have to stay in my house to look after my dogs, plus get to the horses each day. It is a lot to arrange. I placed his birthday gift, an N Peal cashmere hoodie, with its gift card, in my case. I ironed everything. I checked my route.
On Tuesday, he had texted, ‘Can you tell me the plans for the weekend, please?’
I gave him the postcode, said dinner was at 8pm but not to worry if he is late. ‘I won’t be.’ I planned to get there at 4pm, which would give me loads of time to relax, have a bath, put on make-up. I have never been so excited. To be going away on a spa mini-break with a handsome man. The PR for the hotel texted me, ‘Can I have your boyfriend’s name?’ I gave it to her. I was so proud. I have a boyfriend! A lovely one who tells me he knows beauty when he sees it. That he needs to see me weekly. He ‘so fancies’ me. My success is ‘a magnet’.
All day, I was expecting a text to say ‘Happy Birthday! So looking forward to seeing you in Suffolk! Thanks so much for arranging everything!’ But no, nothing.
Then, at 18.52pm on my Special Day, I got this. Please sit down. Believe me, I had to.
‘Liz. I am feeling so overwhelmed at the moment from every angle. I need you to excuse me this weekend, please. I just feel weighed down and want to feel good about whatever I do. I know I am anxious about tomorrow afternoon and my call will be late. After an exhausting week I just know I won’t manage that drive*. I don’t want to chance it at the last moment so saying so now. I just feel so bad. I have done nothing for you or your birthday and do [sic] the list goes on. Please bear with me if u can.’
I call Nic. I am crying. I thought that, for once, something wonderful was happening to me. That I had a reason to still be here. She is outraged, ‘How dare he make you cry on your birthday! I would be so grateful if someone went to all that trouble for me. What’s wrong with him? I’m coming over with a Chinese.’
I have no idea what to reply. There were red flags, of course. Ghosting me the first week, not letting me know if he was coming to my house or not; really rude. I noticed, staying at Soho House, paid for by me for work, that he opened a £59 half-bottle of champagne from the mini bar without even asking if it was OK. He had ordered oysters, steak and chips. Wine.
If I text him to say cancelling last minute doesn’t matter, that would be a lie. Another friend suggested I do this: ‘Life gets in the way!’ she trilled. ‘He has some serious s**t going on. Don’t give up on him. Just send him a sweet message saying a late celebration is fine.’
I don’t do sweet, girly, desperate messages. I have tried to be 100 per cent myself so far, upfront, open, trusting, honest. If I tell him I am angry, what is the point? He obviously cares nothing for my feelings. There must be another woman involved; she can have him, seriously. I even bought him a ticket to see Oasis! Well, wangled one via one of the Oasis ex-wives. I text his text (please keep up) to David 2.0, who introduced us. ‘The c*** just sent me this on our mini-break eve, on my actual birthday…’
And then I think what I should do. I place the beautiful, gift-wrapped N Peal box on my bed, take a photo, and I text it to him, with just these two words. ‘Silly Bridget.’ I doubt he will even get that reference, the foreign, love-bombing t***.
*His journey is two hours from London.
 Jones Moans… What Liz loathes this week
- The list is endless. Jesus, I should name him, put his photo on Twitter. What have I ever done to him? Other than be adoring and sweet and funny? I told him straight off I have no success with men, that everyone treats me badly, takes money off me. Dear god, when will I ever learn?
 Contact Liz at lizjonesgoddess.com and find her @lizjonesgoddess
