How to tell a terrible secret
There have been many things I have been meaning to write about over the last couple of months; going to Reading Festival with Jen, my birthday night out where we (well, I) got utterly mashed and eyed up a strange woman then ate Jen’s food; meeting the parents… all of them.. everybody’s; however this is too important to leave languishing on the ‘to do’ list.
I told Jen about this blog.
I had really wanted to tell her for a long time. As the Theatre Producer knew, and My Love Life In Your Hands knew, and Fleet Street Fox knew and too many people in too many situations knew, I felt really duplicitous for not telling her.
Even all without all of these other people in the equation, it was well past time. We operate a full disclosure policy and this was the only thing I haven’t been disclosing.
Breaking the news
Jen was staying over on Thursday because it was my birthday the next day and we were going to hit town. Despite having to work the next day we decided that it was imperative to drink large quantities of cider and watch 500 Days of Summer.
Languishing on the sofa, we gradually got pizzled whilst watching the tragic love/non-love scenes play out between Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-Levitt.
Afterwards, rosy with the chilled cider and intoxicated with the tale of broken romance and ensuing hope, I decided that it was time I had to tell her.
B: I’ve got something to tell you. It’s basically the last thing that you don’t know.
She looked on, slightly pensive…
J: uh huh.
B: Well, Toast and I sort of had a bet going, from long before I met you. Well… we sort of had a bet over who could get married first, and the loser has to sing at the winner’s wedding”
J: (comprehending what she’s hearing). Riiiiight.
B: Well, we also have been sort of… logging it. Well, “blogging it”. So you’re kind of… in it. I mean, I’ve been really slack for the last couple of months but yeah… I mean… it’s actually kind on nice to be able to look back and really remember our early days because I’m really rubbinh at remembering and tend to get all the details confused so actually it’s really kind of a good thing but yeah… err…
I trailed off as she was looking at me somewhat impassively.
When I’ve been naughty and I know it, I tent to smirk and then giggle, even when it’s entirely inappropriate and will make things worse, but it’s involuntary. I hid my mouth behind a cushion to stop my expression interfereing in my clumsily crafted explanation.
It seemed like a really long wait. It was probably only about 5 seconds but I genuinely started to wonder if I had just made a mistake.
Keeping calm she looked at me and answered.
The she broke into a cunning, smug grin.
Girls are cunning
I’d had a suspicion a number of times that she’d found it. Numerous references to danger territory such as My Love Life In Your Hand’s column, twitter, marriage and a multitude of minutia that I reasoned were just paranoia.
It turned out that she had found it about 6 weeks ago. She had found it exactly the way I had warned Toast that she would but he dismissed: via My Love Life In Your Hand’s twitter feed, linking to ours.
Executing some champion detective work (this is the polite way of saying ‘stalking’) she had stumbled across this very blog and sat reading, noting the similarities with amusement; until the amusement turned to a horrified realisation.
The whole thing was a bit of a shock for her. Most notably because she suddenly had a detailed account of all hte other dates I had been on since meeting her.
Reaching out to several friends for perspective, they read and reflected that I’ve said only glowing things about her, that I’ve not been mean to anybody I’ve dated and that it was going on long before we met. That calmed her down and she set about reading her way through most of the rest of it; and telling her friends. All her friends.
As it turned out, this really was the best possible outcome for me because she was a bit cross for a while about all the American ladies I met in New York, but by the time I told her she had put it all in perspective.
Lessons learned: ladies are far more cunning than men and would make much better detectives. That’s probably why Miss Marple and Jessica Fletcher had such successfull careers. Although I wouldn’t want to hang out with Jessica Fletcher as everyone was always getting knocked off around her.
This is a bold new frontier but it is an exciting one because I don’t have to feel like I’m sneaking around any more and I won’t excitedly tell her something I’m supposed to keep secret, like I nearly did several times.
Marriage percentage: 74%. Finding out and managing to keep the secret from me until I told her and keep cool about it earns some major respect.
Then she said to me: “Right, we’re gonna fucking WIN THIS!”
Updated marriage percentage: 76%