And the shoe drops

The lack of blogging isn't because of some wonderful holiday, it isn't for lack of time, and it certainly isn't for lack of events... I am in a funk, a stay on the couch and watch 'Come Dine with Me' or 'Friends' marathons funk topped with junk food binges and slightly questionable showering habits.  The weekend had every promise of fun adventures and new starts but instead I am an unemployed girl waiting in a coffee shop wondering if I will still have a boyfriend after our scheduled coffee conversation.

Friday lived up to its potential: the US managed a draw, keeping pace with England in the race to the World Cup Finals, drinks and gossip with some buddies followed by eating my way through London.  Ashley, Jose and I had VIP tickets to Taste of London in Regent's Park, a yearly event that gathers the most amazing chefs, restaurants, and booze into the park.  Our VIP passes got us free champagne and our accents managed to get us a couple more from a very young British boy.  We sat in on two wine tastings, sampled new vodka, whiskey, and rums before starting the 3 hour eating marathon.  We each had 30 crowns to burn (the official taste of London currency), crowns that opened the door to the most amazing food I have ever eaten....most of which I still have no idea what it was.  We had Halibat, Salmon, Thai noodles, Vegetarian Sushi and dumplings, calamari, Beef, Pork and Chicken...I wish I could even begin to describe how things were cooked or marinated but with all that free booze, all I can say is I just about creamed myself with every new plate.  If those dishes weren't enough, which they weren't:  we had gelatis, baklava, and chocolates.  As the rain forced us into panchos (the pancho handled two jobs: it kept me dry and kept all of London from seeing my new muffin top thanks to our feasting!) we headed to the bar to wait out the tube rush.  Since I started training for my new job early the next morning, I only stayed for a few drinks.

Saturday:  The start of the downfall. 
Ok so I wasn't exactly looking forward to an 8 hour training but I was looking forward to making some money for the first time in 6 months.  I managed to fight off the drowsiness caused by our trainer for 8 whole hours.  He was a cross between Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller and Mr. Garrison from South Park.  8 hours of 'mmmkkkkay' , righhhhttt..riigght, RIGHT!,  and 'you alright with that folks?'....his coral pants and Jesus sandals were the only entertaining things about him.  I have never been so relieved to see 6:30 on the clock or get an invite for a house party.  I took Beni and his darling along to a house party with people from my school, people I have never really hung out with before but that seemed fun enough.  Like Friday, it too had all the potential for a great night and lived up to it until 3:30am.  We did more drinking than normal and by the time we arrived at the club we were all well on our way to being smashed.  As we left the club to head home, my boyfriend turned into a green eyed monster.  Triggered by a guy talking to me, Beni lost all control of his emotions giving jealousy a whole new meaning for me.  Our fight spilled all over the streets of central London ending in two seperate cabs, a bloody, possibly broken hand(Brick wall: 1 Beni: 0), and packed bags.  The boy who can barely raise his voice to me was overcome with jealousy and anger, for reasons I can't even begin to understand.  Our fight carried on at his flat, monitered by Big Brother and cousin, neither able to calm his anger.  As things continued to increase, I packed my things and called friends for a place to crash.  Unable to stir anyone up at 5am and exhausted from crying, I gave up and slept on the couch.  Less than 2 hours later, I woke up for training day #2.  Beni acted as if nothing happened and as much as I wanted that to be true...it wasn't, his anger had triggered mine and made me nervous about his jealousy issues.  Our normal goodbye was replaced with a 'fuck off'

Sunday:  The Downfall
Hungover and upset from the night before, I struggled to make it through training.  Despite my domestic drama, I managed to wiz through the computer system and fundraising scripts.  I recieved mostly good feedback for my calls and scored 100% on the training test.  I ignored all calls and texts from Beni throughout the day, unsure of how I wanted to handle the situation.  As the training came to a close, I along with 5 others were called into a room.  Mr. Monotone thanked us for our time and hard work.  He continued on with 'unfotunately we cannot take everyone, I'm sorry but you are just not cut out for this kind of work, you will be paid for your time'  What?  This had to be a case of mistaken identity, there is no way I can be in the same room with the phone fundraisers who stuttered, cursed, and told false information!  Why were the others, who were terrible all day, those that failed the test part of the 20 still employed?  I spent 3 years working as a fundraiser, I have no problem asking for money and I am good at getting it, much more money than the 10 quid they wanted me to ask for.  So I was let go long before I ever made my first live call.  Panic, anger, and embarrassment made the tears inevitable on the tube ride back to my jealousy torn flat.  As I returned to pack some essentials, I found Beni on the bed waiting for me.  Neither of us spoke while he was there and I took his quick trip out as the opportunity to flee.

Defeated I didn't have the energy to fight, I had only enough in me to flee.  I really wanted to flee far away but I had to settle for North London since plane tickets home are far out of my price range.  I ran to Ashley and Monica's flat for some much needed venting and group thinking.  How much can I handle of his jealousy?  Is it worth it?  Is this just the start of it?  Was it a fluke incident?  I continued to ignore his calls and texts...despite his pleeding, I needed a couple more days alone.

Monday and Tuesday
Beni continued to try, to apologize, and fix things...all I did was continue to sit on the couch.  Ashley and Rebecca joined in on my slump, having shitty days of their own, we did what all girls do:  Order pizza, drink wine, and watch movies.  The next day Rebecca and I bitched about boys while eating and sitting on the couch all day.  By Tuesday, I was ready to talk to him, his apologies were sincere and he was devasated by my packed suitcases.

I have been living in a wonderful little fairy tale, I have just about everything I want, It has been almost perfect.  But even Cinderella must have worried about her glass slippers cracking or at the very least getting smudges...despite how much I try to avoid it, this is still real life, things will not be perfect, things will get fucked up.....