Comment: The ghosts of boyfriends' past

Tuesday 25 December 2018

Fenella has found herself at the centre of an almost Dickensian drama at her Christmas do.

With nothing but great hair and sequins to protect her from this haunting, she might just have to resort to some different kind of Christmas spirits altogether... bring on the gin!

Dear Diary,

I am still in shock over the events of recent days. If you need reminding of the horror show that is constantly replaying in my perfectly coiffed head (haircuts are better than therapy), then here’s a quick recap: my future happiness, and ten-year plan, have been cast into utter jeopardy by a grown man who still hasn’t learned how to kiss, or be entertaining. Dr Dreamboat let me down big time, and I am officially in mourning for what could have been. 

We have a CODE RED WINE! Yes, I think I need another glass…

Pictured: Everybody's favourite socialite Fenella Bond is dealing with yet another "code red wine" (Illustration: Ben Ronayne).

Unable to get over my distress and traumatised by sloppy kiss flashbacks, I’ve been talking about how I’ve been wronged as much as I can. You know, my shaman told me that in times of pain it’s like, super-duper important to keep talking and keep putting your feelings out there to make sure you’re not holding anything inside.

So, I’ve told my best gal pals (obvs), the woman I dog-sit for, her dog, the postman, the girl who did that lush head massage thing at the salon, my Pilates coach, my dentist (it was hard to tell the story with my mouth wide open, but I’m dedicated), my Twitter followers, my friend’s assistant and the cute coffee shop guy... so only a select group of my nearest and dearest. 

I’m just so proud of myself for sharing my story and really letting myself be vulnerable, you know? I am so brave.

Whilst I was feeling on a high about my inspirational approach to life and my new highlights (#megababe vibes), a text came in that brought me crashing back down to Earth. 

“Hey, Fenella. It was so nice hanging out with you the other day… can I treat you to dinner this weekend? ;) x” 

Pictured: "A text came in that brought me crashing back down to Earth."

OH DEAR LORD HE DID NOT JUST USE THE WINKY FACE EMOJI. HOW OLD IS HE?! How can he have gone from Dr Dreamboat to Dr Dud in just a matter of days?! Winks are exclusively reserved for Ryan Reynolds and… nope, actually just Ryan Reynolds. 

If I even stoop so low as to use an emoji, I always go for an offbeat one. For example: “Hanging with my gals *poodle emoji*”, “Let’s hang out!? *paperclip*” or, my favourite, “making plans *TRIDENT EMOJI*” – that one’s pretty powerful (#poseidonkingoftheoceanvibes).

But, clearly not everyone has my sophisticated emoji palette – who knew?

Anyway, back to the matter at hand - what the flippering flip am I supposed to do with a text like this?! I suppose it was inevitable that he'd want to see me again - gosh darn my sparkling personality!!

I don’t want to be mean, but I definitely don’t want to go on another date with him and his over-zealous tongue. Maybe I should tell him I've got herpes - that would keep him away. How about if I pretended I was a homeopathist who didn't believe in modern medicine, thus undermining his entire profession and urging him to try crystal healing instead? I could fake my own death and move to Mexico!

Pictured: One does not simply craft the perfect text...

OR I’ll just let it sit for a bit and the perfect reply will just come to me…

UPDATE: I have let it sit for many hours and I still don’t know what to reply. Send help, chocolate and Ryan Reynolds ASAP. 

Texting dramas aside I have much more pressing things to think about – Jem is having a vegan dinner party this eve and I still haven’t figured out what to wear. Perhaps a bit of power dressing would do me good given the circumstances...

I trial a couple of different aesthetics: winter princess (my heart is as cool as my style), festive CEO (business chic has never been so merry) and Jack Frost's mistress ('tis the season to be GLAM). 

After some serious deliberation, I slip into something sparkly (simple, but classic) and I instantly feel a billion times better. Doctors should start prescribing sequins... ugh, I’m so glad I started this diary otherwise all these genius ideas would just go to waste.

I pick up some snacks (scotch eggs are vegan, right?), plenty of alcohol for socially acceptable festive binge drinking and make my way to the party.

I have officially decided that prosecco is my one true love. Who needs boys when you can have a good sparkling wine? Prosecco has never let me down, it's always been good to me and makes me feel better than any man ever has (I can't decide if this is empowering or sad). 

At least three separate people had already complimented my outfit - the flattery and the fizz were going straight to my head and I was walking on air. I could just feel all my troubles melting away and I was truly living my inner trident emoji when it happened…

Pictured: "Who needs boys when you can have a good sparkling wine?"

The ground moved.

My heart dropped to my stomach. 

My hair was... looking great (duh).  

In walked the man formerly known as Dr Dreamboat accompanied by the devilishly handsome, disastrously charming, broke-my-heart-into-a-thousand-pieces-and-left-to-go-travelling jerk/man child/my first ever boyfriend. Why are they here together? Why are they doing man chat together? Are they friends?? Why does this stuff always happen to me?! What have I ever done to deserve this? 

I'm staring at them with my mouth wide open, completely ignoring Verity rabbiting on about her new life coaching for pets business, when I accidentally catch the Doctor's eye.

His face lights up. Oh god. He points me out to Globetrotter. Oh god. Globetrotter turns his beautiful face towards me. Oh lordy lord. They start making a b-line for me. 

Absolutely not. This can't be happening. Wake up, Fenella this is a terrible dream. Wake up! 

But I wasn't dreaming. I was a well-dressed, much cleaner and more popular Ebenezer Scrooge and this was my haunting. I winced, bracing myself for ghosts of boyfriends past and reminded myself that dating is definitely not worth this drama. 

"Hey babe, we were just talking about you..." 

Shaken to my core, fit to bursting, but definitely NOT his babe...

Yours, 

Fenella xxx

Keep up to date with Fenella's escapades in her monthly column for Connect here.