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#5 It’s my baby and I’ll cry if I want to!

Posted by Jane Lancaster on December 7, 2010

‘Can I hold the baby?’ I said. I was standing in the kitchen of my ex husband and his girlfriend’s new house. I had wanted to see his new first born baby and for some reason she was amenable to this. Half an hour earlier I knocked on the door of their terrace house in Neasden, London. He let me in ushering me into the living room where he then resumed his position lying on the floor eating his usual frozen chicken and chips, flicking channels with the remote control. No change there I thought and looked at his new girlfriend (13 years my junior) wondering how she would get used to his horrible habits. As we sat there she handed over the baby and there we all sat silently watching the television. I hadn’t been able to get pregnant which was one of the reasons our marriage failed. To my surprise I started to tear up and whilst I regained my composure I held the baby up bouncingly in front of my face to distract their attention. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘I’ll show you the work I’ve done on the kitchen. Not as good as your dad of course.’ We all traipsed in to admire his handy work. Hid girlfriend was perfect for him. She was mousy and overweight with a limp blonde bob and a pasty face. She looked as pissy as I knew he was. I noticed a photo of them in a frame her with her arms around his waist looking up adoringly. Perfect, just what he always wanted and never got from me. Adore him? I never even liked him. I had my camera with me and I took a few shots of them with the baby. His girlfriend was looking less and less comfortable. Her smile was reluctant and her gestures enduring. Who can blame her? Then in a blinding flash of inspiration I said to her, ‘Hey will you take a photo of me him and the baby? Then I can tell people I had a baby after all!’ The look that passed between them was priceless. It wasn’t a double take it was more like a quadruple take. Their eyes darting back and forth to each other and then to me. They looked totally perplexed as to how to handle this appalling request. I said, ‘It’s alright, don’t worry, I was only joking.’ Inwardly chuckling to myself I was deciding to whom I was going to tell this story first.

The next time I heard from him was on Valentine’s Day on my mobile phone as I was walking into my job in Marylebone. He said he was calling to see how I was. What on Valentine’s Day first thing in the morning? It struck me that if I was at home with his baby I wouldn’t be happy to know he was calling his ex wife on Valentine’s Day. I called him back later that day and asked him not to call me again. Time for us all to move on I said.

After he and I had split up and were living apart we still couldn’t quite let go of each other. I still felt I needed him in the handyman department and he still wanted to be needed in the handyman department it seemed. One of the reasons I had fallen for him, if you can call it that, was because he mended my hairdryer, which had been lying under my bed for two years. Now here I was separated trying to get used to living alone when the worst happened. To my horror my vibrator stopped working. I called my ex and asked if his girlfriend wouldn’t mind if he came over to fix it. No I didn’t ask his girlfriend that as at that point I hadn’t been informed that he had a girlfriend. Well it would have meant that he’d have to give up cuddling me on our old bed when he came to see me. So as requested unbeknown to his girlfriend he came over. He took the vibrator apart lay the pieces on the kitchen top, reassembled it and I was good to go. How was I ever going to let him go? Who would mend my vibrator? I never heard from him again not since that Valentine’s Day. I don’t even know where that vibrator went either. Ah well we all move on.


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