Diary of Kristina
14th February 2015
It is a few minutes after midnight. I’m awake and forever thankful with myself that I had the foresight to pack books and laptop for this weekend. My gut, as usual, got it bang on again.
In all honesty, I am only actually awake right now because I feel like I need to clear my head of the most horrible nightmare. I will write it down to hopefully just siphon it out of my brain.
I was stood in an airport full of people. It felt so real and I could feel the faceless strangers brushing past me, I could smell strong coffee from a nearby coffee shop. Then, suddenly, all I could focus on was Carl – at the point up on one of the upper levels of what I could only presume to be the Duty Free. Oddly, he was playing a guitar. I know for a fact his sense of timing and rhythm is absolutely awful – to a point I am pretty sure that playng a musical instrument would be rendered impossible.
So, anyway, he was playing this guitar and singing that song from Olly Murs – I think I wanna marry you. He was staring right at me and the entire airport had almost frozen around me. He kept singing and walking towards me and getting closer and closer. Then the crowds, who were all starting to stare intently between him and me, were closing in around me. I was looking around desperately and I could not escape this spine chilling situation.
I felt so trapped and scare and empty of any sort of positive feeling for this man in the middle of what seemed to be a well-planned and elaborate proposal. Eventually, he got within a few feet of me and was down on one knee (the music was strangely still playing even though the guitar had mysteriously disappeared by this point). That dreaded small red velvet box was open before me. The ring it held glinted in the electric lights of the airport – a small pearl nestled in a silver band.
“Will you marry me Kristina? Will you be mine forever?”
Even in this dream/nightmare I knew that this was all so wrong. I could not do this. Why had he thought that this was in any way a good idea? They were never going to work long term?
“Carl…. I can’t… we can’t…” I completely stammered to this dream Carl in front of the eager crowd, “You have to realise that we just would not work long term. We would kill each other.”
This dream man in front of me obviously had not come to the same conclusion. Although, logically, if he had then he would not have organised this ridiculous idea.
The other seriously creepy thing that started up was that the crowd around me actually started booing. I felt like a villain in a Christmas pantomime. The first fruit came flying from somewhere and hit me in the back of the head.
That was the thing mid-nightmare that finally allowed my release from the internal hell. Where the hell had that come from?
Partly Carl being an absolute let-down (again) and my mother. That mental woman is desperate from grandchildren. I am not desperate to be a mother. She seems convinced that – because I did not want to go to uni – my secret dream is to get married and have lots of babies. As Carl is the only man currently in my life she has become fixated on him.
Personally, I blame the fact she reads the Daily Mail. I am convinced that the total trash of a newspaper has caused her to ‘realise’ that she will be dead in a few years and will not get old enough to have grandchildren unless she tries to hurry the process along. As soon as I told her that Carl and I had booked a hotel for the weekend, I am pretty sure that was the moment she started planning our wedding in her head.
She is going to be very disappointed.
The absolutely beautiful local hotel was indeed booked for both of us. He was meant to meet me here – in the foyer. I received a text (the absolute good-for-nothing could not even be bothered to call) about 5 minutes after the agreed meet time.
Sorry Baby. Something has come up last minute. I am so, so sorry.
So I was stood in a hotel foyer waiting to check into a room that had been booked and paid for (in my name – but luckily with Carl’s credit card).
Then another text came through.
I have just called the hotel and told them to charge all of your expenses to the card if you still want to make use of the room.
So that is how I ended up checking into a hotel room alone on Valentines weekend. I was pretty much spitting fire for the first few hours that he had cancelled last minute. To be honest, I am quite sure that he had thought I would have turned tail and left. No luck there – all the expenses to his credit card? There was no way I was going home!
The fire spitting did slightly subside when I wondered into the hotel bar – after a relaxing shower – and discovered that the guy behind the bar was an expert cocktail maker. As a result, I ended up spending most of the evening sat there learning new recipes. Heaven!!!
So, seeing as the idiot could not be bother to turn up, I can have a productive and relaxing weekend without him. Amazing food and fantastic cocktails always taste so much better when someone else is paying.
I wonder if I can hit his credit limit? This could be