Page 55 of Bad Influence
The magpie in my view was twitching its head. It turned almost 360 degrees, searching wildly for its family too.
Where are they? Where are you, Rob?
I watched the magpie fail to find his mates and eventually give up and fly off.
I lay down on my bed, my hands behind my head. My thoughts turned to Rob’s feather tattoo, an intricate design on his upper arm. It symbolised the freedom of flight. He’d had it done before we got together, when he’d returned to London after a few months travelling in Australia. He told me it was a marker in the sand, or rather the skin, that he was his own person, symbolising the fact that he was free to fly wherever and whenever he wanted – an untamed spirit. It was partly what attracted me to him in the first place. I hung on to every word, captivated by the spiritual side of him. But now he was my boyfriend, it was also a concept that scared me about Rob on a deeper level.
From the day we got together, I’d had this unshakeable sense that he was too good to be true or, more precisely, too good for me. I’d become quite used to deep-rooted fear that one day Rob might decide he needed to fly, and hewould leave me. I reasoned with myself that the feather could symbolise us flying off together – travel had always been high on our list, and I fell in love with him in LA after all. So, the fear was probably more about me and my opinion of myself – that I wasn’t the kind of person any sane, gorgeous, and successful bloke might like to settle down with.
I once messaged Dear Destiny, a world renowned ‘spiritual guide’ with 2.5 million followers on Instagram, about this conundrum and actually got a reply. I keep the screenshot on my phone.
Dear AG
If you are in a relationship and concerned whether the other person is as committed to you as you are to them, or you are questioning your own commitment to a long-term relationship, firstly, may I strongly suggest that you do some work on yourself. This kind of question reveals a deep insecurity and a lack of trust that is likely to make any suitor catch the first bus out of your area. Secondly, you need to get out there and enjoy having a full relationship without fear. Thirdly, remember that no one can actually climb inside anyone’s brain, so it’s impossible to know if they are truly yours, all you can do is trust them – until they show you otherwise, which might be never or might be tomorrow. Work with factual information, AG, because guessing about a person is the road toruin. And be thankful they can’t climb into your mind either – that really would be the death of nearly all relationships, wouldn’t it? AG, you must believe in your ability to love and be loved in return.
Best of luck,
Dear Destiny
I had discussed this with Vicky too, and she confirmed Dear Destiny’s sentiment. ‘You can never actually own someone, that would be slavery – and it was abolished in the nineteenth century, as you might recall.’
‘Well, I’m yours,’ I said. ‘You’re my ride or die.’
‘Ditto,’ Vicky replied. ‘But we’re different. We’re best friends.’
It left me thinking how unfair it was that a boyfriend couldn’t also be your best friend.Why does there have to be a different set of rules?
‘Because mixing bodily fluids changes stuff,’ was Vicky’s analysis. ‘Some people like to call their partner their best friend, but, personally, I think that’s weird, and I’m greedy enough to want both a loveranda bestie. Anyway, that’s why marriage was invented, so it’s harder to leave when the going gets tough. You don’t get that with a friendship.’
‘Does marriage really give you that security?’
‘It’s meant to. That’s why I’m going to propose to Trey the next leap year. I’ll be waiting forever if I don’t. And I want half his bank balance – that will give me security.’ She giggled loudly.
‘You blatant gold digger!’ I laughed back.
‘I love him too!’ she assured me, as an afterthought.
Married or not, I still wondered whether there was a bit of you that would ever feel completely certain that something would last forever.Maybe this is exactly the point of love? You never know how the story will end.
I thought of Rob’s tattoo again. This time instead of seeing it as a symbol of what mightnotbe between us, maybe now was the time to believe that it could symbolise moving into a new chaptertogether,and being at ease with living in the moment.
I had an urge to phone him again to tell him this, so I did, and still he didn’t answer.
I sank back into my pillows.
There are certain moments in life when you get a strong feeling that something is at a turning point. Some people call it a sixth sense, others intuition, although we have no scientifically proven way to see into the future, sometimes youjust know.Rob not calling me back was a turning point in my life. I knew it meant that something more was wrong, because it wasn’t like him to be this distant. I had a feelingsomething was up.
Chapter Sixteen
By seven o’clock I had gone to Mandy’s room to drop off her outfit – an incredible Studio 54-inspired, gold metallic floor-length gown with bat wings, borrowed from a vintage rental platform. I then spent hours getting glammed up whilst listening to1989 (Taylor’s Version), twice, and then a medley of some of my favourite pre-party songs, thanks to the Echo in the annexe. I was wearing the silky emerald-green jumpsuit I had bought from a pre-loved website, accessorised with a vintage Gucci belt and the silver ankle boots, which were my (self-chosen) Christmas present from Rob. Some might say the look was more ‘bogey’ than Balenciaga, but I didn’t care, because I thought I looked cool. If fashion was about celebrating individuality – the theme I was pushing for Mandy – I had to be true to myself too. Wearing green was also my way of conveying a need to feel grounded, and to instil a sense of calm. I hoped it would have the desired effect this evening.
I spent a pleasurable amount of time washing, blow-drying, curling, and re-curling my hair into tousled waves, dousing it in hairspray to hold all night.
I put on extra mascara, went for it with a shimmerycream blush, applied ample powder, and finished off with a glossy lip. Then I spritzed my Le Labo fragrance into the air and walked through its wet cloud twice, a trick a make-up artist once taught me for ensuring your perfume lasts all evening because it clings to your hair and clothes more evenly. I have no idea if it really works, but I enjoy the ceremonial aspect of getting ready for a big night out, or in this case a big night in.
It felt good to put so much effort into my look this evening. Although, feeling rebuffed by my own boyfriend, I couldn’t help but acknowledge that a little part of me knew I was doing it in the hope that Jimi might notice.
‘Babes!Loveyour outfit. What a colour!’ Blair squealed as I entered the lounge.
