Fast Fashion

Fella has gone out ice skating this evening, leaving me with a couple of hours to write a new post before I join him and his friends for dinner in Soho tonight. Most of these friends were there, the other night, when Fella had his… episode.

Since then he’s been trying to make it up to me in the nicest possible way, which in turn has begun to get a bit tiresome… I’m just glad he’s alright.

So what happened? Well, it seems that on occasion (I’ve never seen it before) a minor hormonal imbalance combined with sufficient alcohol flips the off switch in Fella’s brain – and when it resets hew goes into full-on panic mode. Now, that is understandable and to be sure none of his friends or colleagues judge him wanting in any way because of it. Perhaps, then, Fella shouldn’t drink so much. Well, that’s up to him. He can certainly drink. He doesn’t drink every day, or all the time – and he doesn’t like (any more) those late nights painting the town red that neither Frumpella nor Strumpetville have quite forsaken… Still, he does on occasion get very very drunk and getting him home in circumstances like that have put the greatest, and indeed very dangerous, strain on our relationship.

So, not a Problem Drinker but drinking can be a problem. Maybe I’m dancing in distinction-without-a-difference land. Or maybe I’m being too grown up a fairy. But he’ll have mo on tenterhooks from now on when we go out and there’s alcohol involved and an Emergency Taxi Fare will never be far away from now on.

Goodness, those are a lot of words to describe not very much. Time for succinctness:

What does this mean for my relationship then? For all my concern there is absolutely no prospect whatever of us finishing over this. I was somewhat surprised by how resolute I am about that. I am totally certain; we’re solid as a rock. Perhaps he is surprised too: this last couple of days whole new words have begun to be heard in Strumpetville. Marriage (maybe). Cohabitation (even more maybe). Children (NO). This is all a bit ‘heat of the moment’ to truly excite me. Though I do now know what kind of engagement ring he would like; diamond set into the band; which will be silver, if you don’t mind gentle reader.

So there we are, then. Dinner, drinks*, and a steady hand on the tiller of our relationship, steering between the rocks… whatever they’re made of ;-)