Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy

Had not really stopped to think how much Roxster meant to me because I really was being Buddhist and staying in the moment. Had not realized we were building a little world together: the farts, the vomit, jokes about food and our favourite pubs, and the barnacle’s penis. Every time something funny happens want to text it to Roxster. And then realize, with cold, lurching remembrance, that Roxster doesn’t want to hear about all the funny little things any more, because he’s doubtless hearing funny details of the life of someone who is twenty-three and likes Lady Gaga.

10 p.m. Just got into bed. Cold empty boring bed. When am I ever going to have sex again or wake up with someone as young and beautiful as Roxsterrrrrrrr?

10.05 p.m. Fuck him with his fucking curry! I absolutely do not care about Roxster any more whatsoever. Pah! He was simply a curry-eating . . . Callow Gigolo! Have deleted him from contacts and will not correspond with or see or ask to see him ever again ever. He is deleted.

10.06 p.m. But I lurrrrrrrrrrve him.

Tuesday 25 June 2013

Number of mean texts made up to send to Roxster in case Roxster texts me 33.

9.15 p.m. OH GOD, I’M SO LONELY. Keep thinking maybe Roxster will text that we should have a drink, and keep making up imaginary haughty texts in reply:

Or:

Wednesday 26 June 2013

9.15 p.m. OH GOD, I’M SO LONELY.

9.16 p.m. Have just had brilliant idea! Will text Leatherjacketman!

9.30 p.m. Texting exchange went as follows:

Me:

10.30 p.m. Leatherjacketman:

Thursday 27 June 2013

9.15 p.m. OH GOD, I’M SO LONELY. Maybe will call Daniel and see if he will take me out to cheer me up!

11 p.m. Daniel has not replied. Is not like Daniel. Maybe he is currently getting married.

Friday 28 June 2013

3 a.m. Billy just got into my bed, sobbing. I think he’d had a bad dream. He put his arms round me, all hot and sweaty, and clung to me. ‘I need you, Mummy.’

He does. They do. And there’s no one else. I can’t afford to get into a mess like this, trying to fill up a void with stupid men. Come on, pull yourself together.

7 a.m. Woke up sleepily and looked at Billy, warm and exquisitely beautiful on my pillow. Started giggling, remembering wailing self-pityingly about Roxster, ‘When am I ever going to wake up with someone as young and beautiful as that again?’

You see? Simple! Even younger and more beautiful.

JUST THE WAY THEY ARE

Friday 28 June 2013 (continued)

10 a.m. Starting to feel worried about Daniel. For all his, well, Daniel-ism, since Mark died he has always got back straight away if I call. Ooh! Telephone.

10.30 a.m. Had forgotten about conference call with George from Greenlight, Imogen and Damian.

‘Right – we’re all in the office, you’ll be pleased to hear,’ George began. ‘Now here’s the thing.’ There was sploshing in the background. ‘If you talk to Saffron about the pages you are not to give her any idea that you are not one hundred per cent in love with Stock—’

‘George?’ I said suspiciously. ‘Where are you and what is that sloshing noise?’

‘In the office. It’s just . . . coffee. OK. Ambergris is into Stockholm so don’t—’

There was an odd, rubbery, slithering squeak, a giant splash – I mean, really like something huge had fallen into a large body of water – a muffled shout, then silence.

‘Right!’ said Imogen. ‘Shall we see what happened there and call you back?’

11 a.m. Just called Talitha to see if she had spoken to Daniel lately.

‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘Haven’t you heard?’

The thing is, Daniel has always had addictive tendencies, which have got worse as he has got older. There was a period when everyone was saying, ‘I’m so worried about Daniel,’ in judgemental voices, as he behaved increasingly outrageously at dinner parties. Various glamorous women tried to ‘fix’ him until eventually he was shipped off to a treatment facility in Arizona and returned looking fresh-faced and a little sheepish. As far as we all knew, he was fine. But it seems a recent break-up with the latest glamorous woman catapulted him into a dazzling spree, taking him through the entire contents of his 1930s cocktail cabinet in a single weekend. He was found in a terrible state last Monday morning by his cleaning lady and now he is in the drugs and drink ward of the same hospital where I went to the Obesity Clinic.

Oh God, oh God, and I let Billy and Mabel stay the night with him.