PHIL - Just friendly, Annie, just friendly.
ANNIE - It takes you all your time just to hold my hand in public.
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PHIL - Oh come on, we’re not teenagers, we’ve been married for years!
ANNIE - But you’ve always been like that.
FB - Why don’t you admit you’re having an affair, Phil, then we can move on.
PHIL - But I’m not having a bloody affair!
FB - If you can get past denial there is hope.
PHIL - I’ve never laid a finger on Sheena Burns. Well, apart from the arm round her waist. Never kissed her, never touched her in any intimate way, and certainly never slept with her.
ANNIE - Why do you take her for lunch then?
PHIL - What?
ANNIE - This is obviously a build-up to shagging her.
PHIL - For God’s sake, is everybody obsessed?
FB - No, only you, Phil. You have been denying your wife, because you’ve obviously been expending your energies in the arms of another woman.
PHIL - Not true. Haven’t done it. Wasn’t going to do it.
ANNIE - Where did you take her for lunch?
PHIL - What?
ANNIE - Where did you take her?
PHIL - Is that important?
FB - It obviously is to Annie. Why don’t you answer her? Or are the things that are important to Annie not important to you?
PHIL - You’re just a mixer, aren’t you? Must be the main qualification for being a therapist.
ANNIE - You took her places you obviously don’t take me. You did things with her you don’t do with me.
When was the last time we walked in a park?
PHIL - But I didn’t shag her!
ANNIE - You gave her your time! And your interest! Which is something you don’t give me.
PHIL - That’s nonsense. You’re my wife ...
FB - Wife does not mean slave, Phil, not in this day and age.
PHIL - No, but it should mean someone who trusts her husband and believes him when he says he’s not having an affair.
FB - Why didn’t you want to tell Annie then, if you’re so innocent?
PHIL - Because I’m not stupid, I know what it looks like.
ANNIE - I trusted you, Phil.
PHIL - And you can still trust me. I haven’t done anything wrong. Sheena and I are just friends.
ANNIE - I’m supposed to be your best friend.
PHIL - Oh here we go with Fiona’s bullshit again. Let’s all revert to childhood. You’re my bestest friend, Annie, am I not allowed to have any others?
ANNIE - I never said that, but you never put your arm round Norrie MacDonald.
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PHIL - He’s not my friend, he thinks he’s my friend. Plus he’s too fat to put my arm round.
FB - I can’t allow you to use humour as your escape route again, Phil.
PHIL - Listen, cards on the table. You can’t jail a man for thinking about robbing a bank. I admit I did think about Sheena in a sexual way. It was just a normal human reaction, but I never did anything about it. In fact she was up for it and I knocked her back.
(PAUSE)
ANNIE - You did what?? You thought about her in a sexual way?
PHIL - Perfectly understandable, she’s an attractive woman. But I never robbed the bank.
ANNIE - Sod the bank, you were still drooling over the money!
FB - Ah, certain things fall into place now. Annie, you told me your sex life had been improving recently?
ANNIE - Yes, but ... oh, God, no ...
PHIL - What? What?
FB - I think Annie has just realised that the passion you have been showing has not been generated by her.
PHIL - It’s just fantasy. Fuck, you encouraged us to fantasise.
ANNIE - I expect any erection that comes near me to be mine, not some Sheena woman’s!
PHIL - Well, you got the benefit.
ANNIE - The benefit? You callous bastard!
PHIL - What have I said now?
FB - I think you’re being distressingly uncaring of Annie’s feelings.
PHIL - How? You told us to fantasise!
ANNIE - You’re supposed to fantasise about things you want to do with me, you idiot!
PHIL - But when I want to do things with you, I tell you, and we do them. There’s hardly much room for fantasy there.
ANNIE - You’re a pig!
PHIL - Come on, Annie.
ANNIE - Don’t touch me!
PHIL - This is ridiculous.
ANNIE - Oh it is, is it! You come home all horny after philandering with this Sheena all afternoon and expect me to stand in for her to save your guilty conscience? That’s ridiculous.
PHIL - It wasn’t like that, I wasn’t thinking about ...
FB - Oh, I think you’re being economical with your hormones there, Phil. I think Annie has a very strong case for ...
ANNIE - Leaving you!
PHIL - What?
ANNIE - Leaving you. That’s it. I’m leaving you.
PHIL - This is getting more bizarre by the minute. Is it that time of the month, Annie?
ANNIE - A, you should know, and B, it’s not. This is a perfectly sane, logical response. I’m sorry, Fiona, I
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was wrong to waste your time in trying to save our relationship. It’s obviously run its course, but I was too blind to see it. Thank you for your efforts.
Goodbye.
(Annie leaves)
PHIL - What happened there?
FB - I think Annie has left you, Phil.
PHIL - For putting my arm round a woman’s waist? I was expecting the dog-house for a few days, but this is a bit extreme.
FB - Perhaps Annie will calm down in a little while.
PHIL - Shows you what you know. Annie never backs down.
FB - I’ll phone her, try to talk to her.
PHIL - Do you not think you’ve done enough damage?
FB - I don’t think you can really blame me for what’s happened.
PHIL - If you hadn’t told her ...
FB - It was a factor in your relationship, it couldn’t be ignored.
PHIL - Just don’t expect a testimonial.
FB - I won’t insist on charging the full amount if you don’t wish to proceed with the therapy.
PHIL - That’s the least of my worries. I’d better go and find her.
(Phil leaves.)
All my experience tells me that there was a massive and unwarranted over-reaction from Annie, if Phil was telling the truth. It is therefore obvious that he was not. There must be a history of infidelity which they have not informed be about, and no therapist can be expected to be effective in these circumstances. I shall leave their case open for a few weeks and await developments.
F.B.
Phil/Monday, 29th May
Despite many harsh words Annie has not left me.
She has thrown me out.
I am writing this in a B & B off Gt Western Rd. I was lucky to get it. It seems there is a world convention in town and every hotel room is taken by drunken dental technicians from across the globe. I am staying calm on the assumption that Annie will come to her senses in the morning.
Annie/Tuesday, 30th May
Last night Mr Wilson and I parted company when it was revealed that he has been seeing another woman. As the sole function of this diary was to assist in exploring our joint sexuality, a situation which no longer exists, I see little point in continuing with it.
I therefore conclude with the words which my sisters have uttered down the ages - all men are scum and not
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to be trusted.
Phil/Wednesday, 31st May
This tantrum seems to be lasting longer than usual. Not that Annie’s in the habit of throwing me out of the house, but I’d expected her to see the idiocy of her actions after a day or so. But she’s being a stubborn little git, and won’t talk to me, says there’s nothing to discuss.
I’ve sent her flowers, turned up at her work, the whole bit, but she’s still giving me the cold shoulder. At least she let me see Roddy for an hour earlier today. He’s totally unfazed by it all. Says he was getting stigmatised by being the only kid in his class with two parents still together.
Thanks, son.
More practically, I’ve run out of the knickers and socks Annie threw at me on Monday night. I asked her for more and the ones she gave me today are unwashed. She said she wasn’t in the business of doing laundry for untrustworthy sex-maniacs. I know there are laundrette places you can go to, but I’ve never been in one, and I don’t have the time to learn a new skill. I’ll have to nip into a shop in the morning and buy new stuff. What with eating out and this B & B it’s costing a fortune.
I’ve been tempted to go to the pub to drown my sorrows but have resisted it. Mainly because I don’t want everybody knowing what’s going on. I certainly haven’t told anybody at work, and thankfully we’re so busy there hasn’t been much time for socialising. I know, deep in my heart, this is only temporary, but it doesn’t help when you’re lying alone in a strange bed at night, not able to sleep.
Sheena hasn’t phoned either.
Phil/Thursday, 1st June
Still no give from Annie. I phoned her mother to see if I could recruit her as an ally, but I was kidding myself on. The woman has never been happy with the fact that her schoolteacher daughter married a man who worked in wellington boots. I once tried to explain to her about the complex job I do, but I foolishly admitted that I knew how much bricks cost, and that was the end of that.
Also had a word with Roddy on the phone, to see how the land lies. He tells me life is perfectly normal, apart from my absence. He goes to school, she goes to work, and the Dad word is not mentioned unless absolutely necessary. I must admit, I didn’t think Annie had it in her. I thought she would have had a nervous breakdown by now, trying to cope on her own. Just goes to show how well I’ve trained her.
This comedy of errors must end soon, because I’m not going to be one of those guys floating round bars looking for a life because their wife threw them out. I’ve met hundreds of them. They start off loving it, freedom from
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the wife and family, chasing women, getting drunk, staggering back to your bachelor pad when you feel like it.
And then I see them a few months later with a lost look on their face, wondering what happened.
In the relationships business the grass is always greener on the other side, and that’s all the philosophy you’re getting from me tonight because I’m going out for a beer with Al and Willie. They, I can trust.
Phil/Friday, 2nd June
Sheena phoned while I was at work. I told her what had happened and she asked if I was blaming her. I said no, we hadn’t done anything wrong, and that Annie was just over-reacting. Sheena said she could understand where Annie was coming from, which confused me because I’m just a man. I asked her what we’d done wrong and she said I shouldn’t have flirted with her.
I told her she’d encouraged me, and she said that was her duty as a woman. My duty as a husband was to resist.
I asked her if women had exclusive rights to looking for a bit of ‘excitement’ in their lives and she said ‘yes’
which sounded suspiciously sexist.
She asked if she could do anything to help, and I was going to mention my laundry, when she volunteered to speak to Annie.
I nearly had a heart-attack.
“Let it be, Sheena. This is just a temporary thing with Annie. It’ll pass, I’m sure of it. The last thing I need is you phoning her up and telling her about nude photos and such-like.”
And she said, all sultry, “Have you still got it?”
Gallantry had gone out of the window. “I binned it. I’m in enough trouble without physical evidence catching me out.”
“I could always send you another.”
“You’re a witch!”
“Where are you staying?”
“As if I’d tell you.”
She was gorgeously giggling. “I’ll keep in touch, Phil, make sure you’re okay. Good luck.”
I got drunk again after work.
Annie/Saturday, 3rd June
Had a long conversation with both Kate and Fiona during a lunch meeting earlier today and Fiona has asked me to continue with this diary for my own mental well-being.
I really needed to talk to somebody, as I’ve been running on autopilot since Monday evening and, of course, Kate came to the rescue.
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I hadn’t anticipated her dragging Fiona along, but I was pleased to see her and apologised for my dramatic exit from the meeting. They were both very supportive and confirmed that I’d made the correct decision, though even now I can’t believe that I actually did it. Fiona wanted me to confirm that I suspected Phil of having an affair before we went to see her and, though I had no evidence, I had to admit that the thought had crossed my mind. You can’t live in a society and culture that places such emphasis on long-legged women and expect Phil to be happy with short-arsed little me.
This fired Kate off on attacking my lack of self-confidence, belief and worth. I had no reason to believe that the Sheena woman had longer legs than mine, she said.
I bet her £20 that she did and Kate said she would have her tracked down by one of her intrepid journalists and then have her legs measured by a medical practitioner. If they were longer than mine she promised to have them professionally broken by some heavies she knows.
Fiona steered the conversation away from violence by saying it was important that I did not dwell on the past, but worked towards my future happiness. Kate said she already had this in hand. She pulled a copy of her newspaper from her bag and directed me towards the personal columns.
The largest display advertisement read-
Petite, professional woman, mid-30s, single-parent (1), recently separated, WLTM suitable man.
I’m attractive, GSOH, NS, GSOL, enjoy cultural and physical pursuits.
Who are you? Write and tell me.
I was appalled at the speed with which Kate was moving and told her so. She said it was only a bit of fun, if that’s the way I wanted to treat it, but there was always the chance I would meet that special somebody. She’d paid for the ad herself and was quite happy to take any leftovers, though how she was going to justify being petite, defied me. I also asked her to define these ‘physical’ pursuits I was supposed to enjoy, and she said ‘nooky’.
At the moment I feel about as sexual as a plate of cold chips.
Phil/Saturday, 3rd June
Had to put a stop to this B & B carry-on, which was costing a fortune, so I’ve moved in with Al. He is under strict orders not to tell anybody that Annie has chucked me out. The building trade is a terrible place for gossip, and if they’re not moaning about back-handers (and how to get them) they’re quite amenable to character assassination.
But Al is a good lad, and he has a washing machine, and he even knows how to use it. He has promised to put me through a crash course in domesticity. We’re picking new aprons this afternoon and tomorrow we’re baking a cake.
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But seriously, Al’s been through this shit and has given me a good talking-to. I’ve not to let myself down, keep my head high, reject despair. Life gets better. Eventually. If it’s just a passing storm, ride it out; if it’s a life changing situation, make sure it’s a better life you build. And this from an eighteen stone brickie.
He too warned me about the dangers of becoming a broken-down, bar-propping lush, and I agreed with him and ordered up another pint.
Wendy, the big red-head was on and it seems that Al has become quite chummy with her now that he’s not trying to manoeuvre his way into her underwear. He tried to encourage me, now that I’m a single man, to make a play for her myself, but I knew how good she was and how vulnerable I felt.
She must have felt it too, because although Al swore he hadn’t told her about my marital problems, she was all over me like a rash. I thought I’d finally achieved my destiny, to be irresistible to all women, first Sheena and now Wendy, but I should have known she was just winding me up.
I’d switched to shorts and was complaining about how I couldn’t drink beer like I used to, when she said, “Pity, I always go for younger men. They never mature anyway.”
I went snake-eyes and replied, “Don’t rub the lamp if you don’t want the genie to come out.”
Not exactly Peter Cook, but Al laughed and she was gracious enough to say, “Touché”.
Al and I went for a curry but I threw up later on. I can’t drink whisky.
Annie/Sunday, 4th June
Roddy has taken all this upheaval very well. If my original theory had been correct - that his sore tummy was down to Phil and I arguing - then, by now, Roddy should have been on the floor writhing in agony.
No such thing, he seems to be positively thriving on being the man of the house, though he will not let a bad word be said against his Dad in his presence.
He went off to football practice this morning and I felt lonely and was going to have a bubble when Phil phoned.
It sounded as if he had a hangover, which fulfilled my expectations of him. Anyway, I blew my nose and asked him what he wanted in as cold a manner as I could manage.
He said he’d served his sentence, and with time off for good behaviour it was time for me to let him come home.
“You can’t get round me with funny lines anymore, Phil” I answered, “Those days are gone. You have to face up to realities like an adult human being.”
“I do, I will.” He sounded very sorry for himself. “I’ve learned my lesson, honest. Let’s make peace.”
“I wasn’t trying to teach you a lesson,” I barked back at him, though intrigue was biting me, “And whatever lesson you think you’ve learned, it’s the wrong one.”
“C’mon, Shorty, you know I never did anything wrong.”
“Do I?” I hissed, “And don’t call me Shorty.”
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“My darling, my precious, my beloved wife ..”
“And don’t crawl, it doesn’t become you. What lesson do you think you’ve learned?”
There was a pause, which meant he hadn’t learnt anything at all, and was trying to make it up. I haven’t been a teacher for over ten years for nothing.
“I’ve learned that you are worth more to me than anything. And that I will do anything to keep our relationship and our family together.”
I had him on that one, he was too easy a target. “I am worth more to you than anything? Then why wasn’t I consulted when you put our family in jeopardy last year?”
“Aww, Annie, there’s no need to drag that up ..”
“Isn’t there?” I was building up a head of steam. “How could you possibly make career decisions, take out mortgages and bank loans, risk everything, without even asking me?”
“But it was for you. For you and Roddy. I wanted to give you a better lifestyle. You’re always moaning that you’re overworked.”
“Oh yes, and I’m sitting in the lap of luxury now.”
I heard him sniff, and suspected he was crying, the drink no doubt.
“I couldn’t help it that things went wrong. It wasn’t my fault.”
“Oh no, it’s never your fault. I’ve heard schoolchildren with better excuses than you.”
He paused again, and for the briefest instant I felt sorry for him, but of course he blew that away.
“Is that what this is about? I thought it was the Sheena thing.”
And I exploded. “The Sheena thing? The Sheena thing? The Sheena thing, whatever it is, is a symptom. The disease is your complacency and smugness and inability to deal with life in an adult fashion. I have more cerebral conversations with Roddy than I do with you.”
“Oi is sorry oi isn’t as smart as you, ma’am,” he bleated, and I could imagine him tugging his forelock.
“I told you, that doesn’t work anymore. You haven’t learned any lessons, Phil, because you are incapable of growth. I admit I fostered grand illusions that you might someday evolve into a human being but I accept now that it’s impossible. You go your way, and I’ll go mine.”
I slammed the phone down on him and had a bubble anyway.
Annie/Monday, 5th June
Luckily I have lots of work to stop me fretting about things. Exams are coming up and the kids are panicking in time-honoured fashion. Roddy too is insisting that he doesn’t want to come to a school where I’m a teacher, though I’ve warned him that he’ll get no favours from me. Maybe that’s why he’s worried!
Along with all that I have Kate’s newspaper to sort out. She phoned today and said she must have me in tomorrow evening to check copy. She also told me gleefully that they’d already had replies to ‘my’ ad. It will be diverting if nothing else.
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On a more humorous note Tommy Carter’s art master brought me a small pencil sketch created by the boy genius, because he thinks it may be of me. I wonder what strokes Tommy boy had to pull to get away with that one, having somebody else recognise it as me. I immediately pinned it to the notice-board with the legend
- Greater love hath no man than he who shares his lack of talent with the world.
This is not the vengeance I mentioned earlier on. This is just a little vengeance. For the big vengeance I require the services of a large strapping man.
I realise that I have not been very open about my emotions and feelings in this diary of late. This is because I am very confused. I cannot believe that I have done what I have done. I cannot believe that I had the courage to do what I have done.
I must have thought of Phil and I parting a thousand times since we began our relationship, but I am not one to bear grudges and previously once my original flashes of anger had passed I was quite happy to continue as before. I could see the logic in it.
Now, I am not angry, in fact I am remarkably calm. I feel that a terrible wrong has been done to me by this man, and that I no longer love him, because he gives me no reason to love him. It therefore makes perfectly logical sense for us to part company.
It is, however, still very scary.
Phil/Monday, 5th June
Lost track of the days there a bit. Wrote Saturdays stuff yesterday morning as I wasn’t up to it after puking the other night. After that I phoned Annie and got pelters from her. She still hasn’t calmed down yet. Al and I spent the rest of the day playing cards and watching TV.
Nobody at work seems to have clocked on to what’s happening yet. This was confirmed when MacDonald and Webster captured me in the pub after work tonight.
“Where’s the Golden Orbs then, Wilson?” MacDonald asked me.
“Golden orbs?”
“Annie’s bottom,” Webster explained, “Me and Norrie have decided that it’s too rude to refer to a work of art as a bum, butt or arse. So we’re calling them Golden Orbs from now on. And me and Norrie, as devoted admirers, are Knights of the Golden Orbs.”
“You’re as mad as fucking hatters,” I responded.
“That may well be,” MacDonald said, “But the fact remains that you haven’t given us even a glimpse of the Golden Orbs for a good while, despite our regularly referring the matter to you.”
So the poor buggers didn’t know that even their guru wasn’t currently getting a viewing of their grail. The only way to sidetrack them further was to play along with it.
“I’m sorry, lads, but it’s just proving difficult to get the Golden Orbs into a pub at the moment.”
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They looked crestfallen, and then MacDonald brightened. “Dinner then, you and Annie come over to mine for dinner at the weekend. It would be a great honour to have the Golden Orbs in my humble dwelling place, if only for one evening.”
Webster wasn’t having it. “What about me?” he complained.
“Oh, you’d be welcome as well. We could make a party of it.”
I decided to start wriggling before I got trapped. “Come on, Norrie, what kind of dinner party would it be with the pair of you chasing about after Annie trying to get a look at her ar...Golden Globes?”
“True, true,” MacDonald mused, “Glenda has a jealous nature and wouldn’t approve of my appreciation of the Golden Orbs.”
“Why don’t you invite us over to your place, Phil?” Webster asked,
“For a drink or something. Then we could feast our eyes.”
I cringed at the prospect. “Do you not think Annie would suspect something?”
“We’d be very subtle,” MacDonald insisted, “Just a wee sly glance when she least expected it.”
“You are fucking loonies,” I said.
“Sir,” MacDonald said, outraged, “We are the Knights of the Golden Orbs, and damned proud of it.”
They gave a silly little salute which they’d obviously practised many times.
“Gentlemen,” I said, “As custodian of the Golden Orbs, so to speak, I must let you in on a grim and terrible secret.”
“Oh fuck,” Webster groaned, “Don’t tell me they’re fakes!”
“No no, the Orbs are genuine all right. I’ve tested them thoroughly. Just that, at the moment they are, how shall I put it ... unwell.”
“Unwell?” they echoed.
“A pimple. A spot. Left globe. Lower hemisphere.”
“Aww, naww,” they exclaimed in unison.
“Afraid so, not fit to be seen.”
“Is there anything we could do?” MacDonald asked, “Medicines or anything? Soothing balms?”
He drooled as if imagining personally rubbing on some magical ointment.
“No no, Annie’s been a bit run-down lately, work and everything, so we must just let nature run its course.”
They nodded sympathetically and finally let me reach my pint. Later in the evening Webster asked my permission to allow the Knights to say prayers for a speedy recovery for the Orbs, a request I gladly granted.
Annie/Tuesday, 6th June
I suspected Kate only wanted a drinking partner of a Monday night, but it seems that her hacks and hackettes are as bad at spelling a