Now don’t wet yourselves, he’s not come back.? But.? But, but, but, in what must at least be progress, the last 24 hours’ events have made me (in the very, very short term) about as happy as if he had. And potentially happier (very, very, very short term) as I have unadulterated, untarnished joy, whereas he would bring the long term disadvantage of being a complete pain in the arse 40% of the time.
Where to begin? First of all, it is important that you realise that the below story makes me out to lead a fabulously glamorous and full life. Remember this next time you are reading tales of my crippled self-loathing – even losers can have fun if they have friends.
SO. Rewind 48 hours (almost to the minute). An email drops into my mailbox from my friend… Let’s call her Rachel, in homage to our latest BB winner. Rachel had mailed 5 of us saying “got a spare ticket for Madonna tomorrow night – good seat, genuine reason for selling, 50 – let me know asap”. Well… This is an offer not to be turned down, let’s face it. So I emailed back at lightning speed, staking my claim to an audience with her Madgesty. The ticket was mine and Rachel and I burbled endlessly about our excitement for the rest of the day.
So yesterday, we were off to Wemberleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey. Where conicidentally, I had been for the first time mere days before. Due to the increasing shrinking of the universe as the unstoppable globalisation juggernaut rumbles on, I have the good fortune to have a friend who works at said stadium. From here on in, he will me known as My Ultimate Hero (MUH). [My Ultimate Super Hero would give the funnier acronym of MUSH, but that’s not in keeping with the heroic stature that I’m attempting to convey here]. Anywho, MUH had comped me 4 tickets to Soccer Aid last Sunday, so not only did I and some friends get to see TPT, Gethin Jones and McFly at close range for FREEEE, we were also treated to all the hot dogs and beer we could consume. What more could anyone want? So anyway, the crux of the story is that MUH is a handy man to know, as well as being a generous-spirited and lovely soul. I had let him know that I was wafting my way northwards once more and he said he’d try to swing by and see me if possible and that his girlfriend (we’ll call her Anna) was also going to be in the audience (cue further excited pre-concert burblings between myself and Anna).
Anyhoo. Last night, Rachel and I got to Wembley and realised that we were actually going to be in pretty rubbish seats. Before making the lengthy trek up the stairs to row 43 of the upper tier (I’m not kidding) we decided we need sustenance and fortitude. This could most readily be provided by fried food so we headed to one of the many food counters that the stadium offers.
Me to Food Man: 1 fish and chips, 1 chicken and chips and 2 sprites please
FM goes off to get drinks
Rachel: Actually, can I change my sprite to a fanta
FM takes this pretty well and brings a fanta. Goes off to get food
Rachel: Hmmm… I think i want fish instead of chicken. Do you think he’ll mind?
FM comes back with food.
Rachel: I’m really sorry, Can I change my chicken and chips to fish and chips?
FM looks slightly more irritated, but is still very pleasant. Brings fish and chips
FM: 16 please [yeah, wembley? it’s clean, but it’s not cheap]
I present my well-worn Switch card
FM: We don’t take cards
Me [incredulous]: What??? It’s the 21st century
FM: We don’t take cards
Me: ummmm… Is there a cashpoint?
FM [with vague gesture]: That way and that way
Me: OK, I’ll be back
FM [with a sigh that shook the stadium to its very foundations]: Just take it
Me: What?
FM [pushing the food towards me]: The food. Just take it.
Me: ummmm… thanks
So Rachel and I sat down to enjoy our free fish suppers, earned through being so irritating that FM would rather risk his job and get rid of us rather than have to see us again to take our money. Result!
Unfortunately, the glow of smugness this generated did fade somewhat when we realised JUST how bad our seats were. Tucked away to the side of the stage and one row from the very back of the stadium. As Rachel said ” I keep thinking how far up the people on the opposite side are, then I remember that we’re at the same height”. To add insult to injury, Anna had texted to say that she was in the golden circle. But, to be fair, MUH had already done me proud at wembley that week and golden circle spaces at Madge’s only londonconcert should be expected by The Girlfriend but not really by the Hangers-On. We were green-eyed and dejected monsters, surveying the teeming crowds beneath us. MUH then texted to let us know that Madge was running late and to give us set list hints. Madge came on, we at the stage peered as best we could. Then 20 minutes in, the miracle happened. Another beep of my phone and MUH wondered “If I could get you into the golden circle, would you be interested? how many of you are there?”.
I LOVE MY FRIENDS!!!!!!! I texted him back immediately, smoke veritably pouring from the keys in my haste to say: “HELL YES! there are 2 of us. and the other one is tiny” [she is]. He texted back to let us know to wait for him in the concourse. When we came down, he was standing at the back, wearing the biggest pair of earphones you have ever seen. Put it this way, it looked as though he was missing a pneumatic drill. Anyhoo, he gestured that we should follow him and took us into a service lift (i know! the excitement! I am basically LIVING the restaurant scene in Goodfellas but with Madonna instead of Bobby Darin). We got our gold circle wrist bands then strolled on in to the cavalcade of camp and goodwill that awaited us there. I STILL haven’t quite got over the excitement. Madge was awesome and the whole thing seemed too-good-to-be-true. We were in the gold circle and had had a free dinner for the grand total of 50! And they say living in London is expensive… I could go on and on, but I don’t have the words (for once) suffice it to say that it’s a night that will live long in my memory (aided by some wonky, out of focus photos).
So anyway, am generally still overwhelmed with good thoughts. What an excellent frame of mind to be in, I mused as I stood in the lift this morning, on my way to a meeting. The only thing that could POSSIBLY make this better would be if He walked into the lift right now and I could tell him about it and he would be GUTTED – no word of a lie, we once walked past Dane Bowers sitting outside a cafe on New Bond Street and He actually stood still and stared, such is his excitement at and under-exposure to celebrity. Anyway, can you guess…? The Universe answered my prayers for once. The lift doors opened seconds later and he got in on the 3rd, both of us on the way to 8th, one other random person in the lift. He said he, but then stood behind me in awkward fashion. The paranoid (and never wrong) side of me thinks this is probably because he has a new girlfriend and is feeling guilty so doesn’t know what to say. But right now (we’re living in the very, very, very short term, remember) who cares? I have a fucking awesome life filled with cool stuff and he doesn’t, arrrriiiiibaaaaaaaaa.
So moments pass and I said:
Ask me where i was last night
He smiles, amused and complies: Where were you last night?
Me [oh-so-casually, but radiating smug inner and outer joy]: In the golden circle at Madonna.
His jaw actually dropped (not that far, but a drop is a drop, right?): How did you manage that
Me [honestly, I was smooth as fuck. think Lauren Bacall in To Have And Have Not asking Bogey if he knows how to whistle – and if you haven;t seen that OR Swingers can you please stop wasting your time reading this shit and watch some fucking movies for a change??? anyway, i digress… I was smooth as fuck and said, whilst exiting the lift and walking away in the opposite direction without a backward glance]: Oh you know, I know a lot of people…
YES! YES! YES! I WIN, I WIN! Hahahahaha!
And I know that I will feel like crap again very, very soon and I still love and miss him BUT nothing can ever take away the fact that – though he may have dumped me – i spent Thursday 11th September 2008 in the golden circle at Madge and he DIDN’T and he probably has no hope of ever doing so, regardless of the date. I have cooler friends and more opportunities to do Fun stuff than he ever has or had and there’s stuff I used to turn down all the time for the sake of hanging out with him in some crap pub in his hometown that now I’m off the leash to do. And honestly, I used to turn it down freely, because time spent with him was my favourite time of all, but at least I have Fun Times to get me through this, whereas he’s no longer got me and he’s still got the same boring lifestyle he ever had. I’ve said it before but, all-encompassing thoughts of loss and pain and dying alone aside, I’m having a ball. And last night was the first time since January when the happiness I felt right then and there outweighed the loss and pain and fear that’s always knocking around in the background of everything I do.
So all hail Madge. And MUH. And the Universe. And even FM.
Today was a good day.
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