The meal is some sort of white fish. Green beans. Mashed potatoes. Peas.

I've become obsessed with peas.

Normally, I fry onions in a pot with butter, honey, and a little sherry vinegar, then throw the peas in. Lots of peas. Half the bag of petit pois.

They are so tiny, so electric green. I watch them through the glass lid until it steams up too much for me to see.

When the peas are thawed, I crack two eggs over top and put the lid back on. Then pepper, and fleur de sel, for a little sparkler.

Peas and eggs.

But not today. White fish. Microwaved.

I eat silently. My housemate, the quiet bearded one, sits at his piano with his hands in his lap, and we don't talk, and he doesn't play.

~

"I'm sorry," the email reads. "I have a bad habit of shooting my mouth off. I really do just want the best for you."

I almost lose my mind.

It only took three weeks. THREE WEEKS! Why did I never do this sooner?

She'd sent some other emails, prodding, checking the waters.

Normally I would give in and reply, but this time I didn't.

Only three weeks.

A damned weird three weeks, but three weeks nonetheless.

We talk on Skype, and she doesn't ask about my talk with my boss, and I don't tell her about my raise.

~

The raise feels good. I don't feel resentful anymore.

I word hard, as hard as ever. The rat exterminator comes in with a chain saw and cuts up the floor, finds the nest.

Things are looking up.

~

Scrolling through my Facebook feed I see: engagement announcement for N, the guy I was dating just before I left for England.

It was over between us, well over. I made it so.

But engaged? So fast?

I barely have time to stalk his fiancee before his wedding photos pop up. An elopement.

I count the number of boyfriends I've had who have, immediately after me, gone on to marry or get into really long term relationships. It's five.

FIVE.

FIVE of my exes are now happily(?) married/etc. The only one I know who isn't is G.

The thought makes me feel depressed. Maybe I should sell my services.

~

This weekend it's all about getting drunk and caulking the bathroom.

I have a vibrator and I know how to caulk my own bathroom. What do I need a man for?

Besides, you know, human contact?

Bleagh. Life.

.

Rosie.

Before&After