London 1 - Exes.

When I arrive in London, earlier than planned thanks to the Scot, my two best girlfriends are still travelling around Europe. Therefore the only person I know, and who meets me at the airport and gives me a place to stay for the first few weeks, is my ex. He is still with the girl he started going out with after me, it is serious. I naively think we can all be friends, that we will all be friends forever just like we were before. After all my ex and his best friend were my best friends for 5 years. Why shouldn't we still be friends? How naïve I was. Looking back with life's experience of course it was never to be. He kindly let me stay for a few weeks before I got in contact with the son of my mum's friend who took me under his wing. He had just moved into a new flat so I became the dosser (sleeping in the lounge for cheap rent). He introduced me to his friends and I gradually built a new life away from the ex. I was still very emotionally tied to the ex and still phoned him, met him for lunch occasionally and went round to watch the rugby with them. We even went to the rugby world cup quarter final between the All Blacks and France at Twickenham (we lost). There are three instances that stand out that cut those ties. At the time each one devastated me. But of course it was the best thing for me. 1) I'd arranged (with our mutual friend) to go round to their flat to watch a rugby game. Just before I left the ex phoned and told me I couldn't come round. That I could never come round again. It was too hard for the new GF. I was in tears. It made no difference. This was a dagger that hit home that she was more important than me. 2) I had woken up one Friday morning in a hotel room with a strange guy (thankfully he was a nice guy and had slept on the floor). I was still drunk. It was the first week of a new job and I had to call in sick. It was the first time that I really had that sickening feeling that I may be an alcoholic. Sure I knew I had a drinking problem. But an alcoholic? I took myself home, got cleaned up and phoned the ex. I really needed to talk to someone so could he meet me for lunch? No. Not today and not another day. More tears. Another dagger, that he no longer cares about me. 3) In the New Year about 6 or 7 months after I arrived, they got engaged. The ex's sister (who was over at the time and who I was still friends with) told me. She told me there was an engagement party and that she was telling me because she didn't want me to find out from anyone else. I stupidly for a second thought that I was being invited. Of course I wasn't. The final dagger, it was over, done, I was nothing more than a distant ex. The Scot, and this, I think goes someway to explaining my emotional state for those first twelve months in London. I was lost. I didn't have a particular purpose. I was filling a gap. I filled it with friends - my best friend now was my best friend then. I met her through the friend that took me in. We were inseparable. I also filled it with drugs. Funnily enough after waking up with the strange guy in 2) above - I actually did stop drinking for a bit. But by then I had found ecstasy.