Dear Diary,
Its been an exhausting week, and I feel compelled to spill it all onto these pages.
This morning, Andrews voice trembled with outrage as he argued with Poppys mother, Lucy, in the kitchen of our flat in Manchester. You cant just kick a child out, can you? Shes tiny, and shes in a city she doesnt even know. Do you realise what could happen to her? he snapped. Youre a mother yourself! Imagine if someone did the same to Charlie! Lucy, ever sharptongued, retorted, Charlie isnt like that. She may be fourteen, but shes got the nerve of a thirtyyearold. If she can cheek an adult aunt, shell manage the train station on her own.
Lucy knew she was perhaps overstepping. She had no tickets for her daughter, no acquaintances in this townnothing but an empty promise. Yet she was done caring about the brat in the skirt. The last time I thought of Andrew, he seemed like a breath of fresh air.
My first marriage wasnt a disaster, but it never sparked. I wed Simon for his bank account, not for love. He was the heir to a comfortable family, lived lavishly, and never gave a second thought to my feelings. I told myself a solid financial foundation was all I neededkids who would never want for anything. Romance, I reasoned, was a luxury; life isnt a fairytale, and not everyone will love you to the point of madness. A decent man wont hurt you, right?
In some ways, I was right. Our son, Charlie, never lacked anything. Yet as he grew older and more independent, Simon and I drifted apart, becoming almost strangers. We had no shared interests, no topics to discuss. I even started taking holidays without him. Simons infatuation faded, leaving a cold emptiness.
We tried to live side by side as friends, but the attempt collapsed spectacularly. Every little habit of hisleaving puddles in the bathroom, snoring, the way he chewed, even his breathing grated on me. Simon, for his part, began seeking younger women, labeling his flirtations a pill for boredom. The divorce came, and he left one flat to me and Charlie. The first few months of living alone felt strange, then I realised I missed love, even if it was just a fleeting taste.
I turned to an online dating site, but my patience ran out quickly. The men I met were a mixed bag: some still unemployed at forty, others insulting their exes, and the seemingly decent ones vanished after the first date. I couldnt see the problem until a new acquaintance lifted the veil.
Our next date was a nightmare. An hour in, he started groping and tried to kiss me, despite my clear Thats too fast. He kept insisting I invite him over, and when the woman he was with finally caught on, she fled home, claiming she needed to pick up her son from school. That was the end of it. Later that night, I received a message:
Couldnt you have been honest from the start? I wasted my time. Divorced women with a extra dont interest me.
Hed said those words while we were sipping coffee. It wasnt really about the son; the label divorced had killed any hope. Men really do see that as a drawback, even if my boy is fifteen and already earns more in the summer than some of my suitors.
I was about to give up on the dream of love when something unexpected happened.
I met Andrew at a friends birthdayMollys, to be precise. He was charming, poured champagne, served salads, and laughed at my jokes. By the end, he asked for my number. Molly warned me, Be careful, Poppy. He comes with an ex and a daughter. I shrugged it off. What of it? Im not a damsel, I replied. Life throws all sorts of things at you.
Andrew later explained, gently, that he couldnt make it work with his ex, Lucy, because she constantly staged scenes. I found that surprising; he seemed the sweetest, most composed man. Where could the conflict arise?
The answer soon arrived, and it wasnt what I wanted to hear.
Love, Im going to be a bit late today. I need to swing by Violets. She asked me to collect a bike for Christina, Andrew texted. This was the third time in a week hed delayed, and Violet still couldnt change a lightbulb without his help. At first I tried to be understandingViolet had only recently divorced and was adjusting, just like I once did. But the repeated intrusions began to grate on my nerves.
You know how I feel about this. Cant you just say no to her? It looks like theres something between you, I warned. He replied, Love, fear God! I cant just abandon Christina. Families fall apart, children stay behind, you understand?
I said, Im fine with you helping, but not the endless trips. Lets send Violet money for a professional. Your presence isnt needed. He muttered, Well, Poppy I cut him off. No Poppy. Either you go home, or you stay with Violet forever.
After a small battle, I managed to set a boundary. Andrew stopped dropping by Lucys, but he still wanted to see his daughter, so Christina began staying with us on weekends. Each visit turned into a test of my patience.
The first night she demanded that her father sleep in her roomalwaysclaiming she was scared alone. Then she raided my perfume shelf, dousing herself in an expensive bottle. By the third visit she started pouting about food.
I wont eat this, she declared, pushing her plate away. Its not as tasty as mums. I snapped, Fine, go hungry then. Or you can go to your mothers. She crossed her arms, Are you kicking me out? Ill tell mum you didnt feed me! Andrew tried to smooth things over, Lets not argue, love. Ill order a pizza. Every weekend ended in a little war. She acted as if I were a stranger, making herself at home and trying to pull her dad back to her mothers side.
A friend once said, Youll have to move to a different city to escape her. I sighed, I never imagined divorced women with a male extension. Yet her advice made sense. My son, Charlie, was already living on his own in Leeds, and I felt no ties holding me here.
So we relocated to a cottage on the edge of a seaside town in Cornwall. For two years, life was blissful: quiet, peace, and the chance to enjoy a proper partnership. Then the inevitable resurfaced.
Love, dont be angry, Andrew whispered one evening. Violet called. She wants Christina for the summer holidays, at least a month. Shes got health issues, and the doctor suggested a seaside stay, but the holiday packages are pricey. And Violets offseason leave is in winter. I stared at him, feeling like a stubborn mule.
No! Not Christina! I blurted. Andrew I talked to her. She said she understood and promised not to do this again. I resisted at first, then gave in. After all, she was his daughter, and I hadnt seen her in ages. Maybe she had changed.
She behaved quietly for a weekmostly in her room or walking with me. Then the chaos began.
Christina, could you please leave the house shoes at the door? Its not usual here, I asked. She smiled, Oops, forgot. She started inviting guests over without asking, taking food Id asked her not to touch, blasting music at full volume at night, and claiming shed forgotten her headphones when I asked for quiet. She even complained to me about Violet, prompting Violet to call me in a fit of anger.
My patience snapped when she allegedly broke the cup Charlie had given me on his first paycheck. Oh, its just a cup, she shrugged, Not like were short of them. That cup held sentimental value, and I finally told Andrew I could not tolerate it any longer.
He defended her, Love, shes still a child. Youre an adult. Could you try to find common ground once a year? I replied, So you dont care what happens to my daughter? That night I slept in the guest bedroom, avoiding Andrew. By morning, both he and Christina had vanished.
He was gone for three days. I guessed hed taken Christina somewhere just in case. He didnt answer calls or messages. When he finally returned on the fourth day, he announced, Im heading home now. Ill be back by six tomorrow. I could have pretended everything was fine, as I used to when he visited his ex every other day, but I was exhausted. The war had taken its toll, and he clearly wasnt on my side.
Andrew, dont be offended, but perhaps you should go back to Violet. Some people are happier together, and apart theyre bored. That feels like you two, I wrote. He replied, Love, whats wrong? Its fine, I just dropped off my daughter. I countered, It would be better if she never visited us again, or if you finally put her in her place. You never did that all these years. Im tired of fighting in my own home, fighting with you. He tried to persuade me, but I stayed firm. I never checked his social media; I didnt need to.
Once, I wanted love. Now I realise that a man who loves himself more than me, his comfort, his halfmeasures, isnt worth the battle. Ive decided to start loving myself first. Watching my exes isnt part of that plan.
So here I am, notebook in hand, trying to make sense of the wreckage. Perhaps tomorrow will bring a quieter sunrise.
Poppy.
