By Liz Jones For You Magazine Published: 03:01 EDT, 12 October 2024 | Updated: 11:20 EDT, 12 October 2024
To recap. He cancelled our mini break, only letting me know the night before, on my birthday. I’m in such trouble with the PR who arranged our country house spa; she has emailed me five times already this morning. ‘Can you at least do an interview with the plastic surgeon in Harley Street? Or write about a book on jewellery I’m promoting?’His last text said, cryptically, ‘We need to do some figuring out.’In the midst of this, David 1.0 texts me. Jeez. What now? ‘Do you remember the tirade when I sneaked a cigarette in your bathroom? Now your man can smoke where he wants. Eat meat. Trail s**t through your house on his shoes. Words fail me. The way you treated me was a sham. Can you please return the engagement ring?’Me: ‘OK. Didn’t realise that was normal. Do you want me to return the £19.99 ring as well? Or throw them both at your head? And the reason he was allowed to smoke indoors is because I was overcome by lust.’David 1.0: ‘You must have found a new sympathy for Nirpal.’Me: ‘Sympathy for a cheating scumbag overweight short-legged husband?’David 1.0: ‘He was overcome by lust.’Me: ‘How dare you compare me to him. He was married. I’m single. Big difference.’It’s significant that David 1.0 remembers me telling him off for smoking; I was angry, as his nicotine addiction was the reason he could no longer walk more than a few paces, no longer breathe, was so bad tempered at his ineptitude. No mention of him calling me an a***hole at Lime Wood hotel in the New Forest, where I had taken him for a birthday treat. I ended up having to lock him out of the room. No mention of him ruining my niece’s wedding, texting me the C-word in the Georgian apartment I had rented in Edinburgh. I consider sending him the German’s photo, job title, to really make him squirm.Anyway, a week has shuffled by, and no further text from the German. Not even a bunch of flowers as an apology, or a late birthday gift. In the end I thought, well, we’ve been naked in bed together. He did things to me that are probably illegal in some countries. And so I texted him. It was light, undemanding, interesting…‘How are you? I went to the Burberry show today at Tate Modern, am off to Milan tomorrow, then Paris for Chanel, Dior. Hope your trip to the family wedding goes OK. Not sure you know how funny I am, as I was so nervous whenever I saw you. Ah well. Sending good vibes. x’He read it the next morning at 6.30am. As of midnight, no reply. No f***ing reply. Does he not know who I am? Is he not, like, really, really terrified?I text Nic. ‘Why say I could have “any man, any”, and, “How are you still available?” and, he “knows beauty” when he sees it, that he is “falling in love” with me – then ghost me? What a waste of time. I am such a failure. I no longer even have an agent.’Nic: ‘Very cruel. The time and money he cost you, the upset. Nasty b*****d. His behaviour would derail anyone. He humiliates himself with his behaviour.’I tell her I wish I was dead; it would be so much easier. I can’t eat or sleep. I have PTSD from all that has happened to me since I left London. I don’t understand why everyone is so horrible to me. I can’t even walk Teddy the collie, who is reactive to other dogs: my knees are like jelly. I catastrophise.Thing is, I really care this time. When I told my husband to move out, my first thought when I got home to an empty house was, ‘Oh, thank god, he’s taken his trainer collection.’ The German was perfect for me.Oh, apart from the fact I think he has given me an STD. JONES MOANS… What Liz loathes this weekMen.Reality TV show My Mum, Your Dad. Why are adults in thrall to their children’s opinions? Just butt out!Three words that never fail to send a chill down my spine. ‘Forgotten your password?’ F*** right off! You emailed me!Illustration: Tom Peake at Making PicturesContact Liz at lizjonesgoddess.com and find her @lizjonesgoddess
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LIZ JONES’S DIARY: In which my new lover gives me an STD