I Don’t Care
May 15, 2012 § 71 Comments
From yesterday’s Times:-
I was walking back home from the cafe with my habitual cup of coffee in hand. The route is so familiar, every idiosyncrasy of pavement beneath my feet, the neighbourly faces I pass, the silver van bullishly parked by the estate agent’s. The only variables are the position of the big bins outside the hairdresser’s, the odd puddle after apocalyptic rain and the latest dog turds. But two days ago there was a new variable and it was a thought in my head. Not only do I no longer care about Surprise Twinkle, but that whole episode has made me realise that, from now on, I am no longer going to care full stop. Not about family and friends and work or the state of the world, I don’t mean that. I shall always care about them. I am no longer going to care so much about being on my own and, more importantly, about men who don’t care about me.
I thought, you know what? I don’t even care if Telephone Number has a girlfriend.
A few years ago I met a wonderful man who asked for my telephone number. He did so in such a way that it never occurred to me he might not actually use it. Uncharacteristic confidence. I should have known better. A week passed, then ten days, twelve months, and no call. I minded for quite a while. Why so sexily ask for a woman’s number if there’s no intention of ringing her? Don’t mess with a plankton’s head!
Unexpectedly, I am seeing him soon. We have been asked to the same small party. And, I admit, a little bit of old me thinks, wouldn’t it be great if we got on as well as we did before? If the spark was still there? If he had recovered from his post-divorce rawness and the timing was now right? If he asked for my number and actually picked up the phone this time? And we went on a date, found we got on really well and my outstanding patience was at last rewarded?
But, negotiating the new puddles and current dog turds, latte in hand, I also thought: he will have a gorgeous, pouting girlfriend, of course he will – remember the Ten Minute Window, and it’s been two whole years so he probably has several – and yet will I really care?
And the answer is no. I have decided, after the ST fiasco, not to. To rise above everything. To gain strength from my autonomy and to maintain dignity whatever is thrown at me. How? By not giving a toss.
It is the New Me. Who knows how long it might last?