Self Imposed Isolation Only Results In One Thing; Missing Out On Fabulous Parties And Stopping Your Ex From Resurfacing
Self Imposed Isolation Only Results In One Thing; Missing Out On Fabulous Parties And Stopping Your Ex From Resurfacing
Tales Of Week 7 Of The Andie Chronicles And Her Breakup
Day 43: Tales Of Going Into Hiding And Coming Out The Relationship Winner
“Thank you for letting me pick your boyfriend’s brain yesterday. I hope you didn’t miss the spa time too much.”
James had been secretly brooding at me ever since I knocked on his door. Though he couldn’t be too annoyed; he also loved the ongoing saga between me and my ex. It was another twist in what should have been a very simple breakup.
It was far from simple, of course. And I was beginning to wonder if it was all on me, if I was solely responsible for this mess.
Or was this a taste of reality?
Was this what it was like to break up with a rich, eligible bachelor?
James corrected me. “Christopher is not my boyfriend. He’s not anything. We’re hooking up, having sex, that’s all.”
I knew this, by the way. Yet, it was too easy to rile James up about him.
“Whatever the label, he had some good advice. But do you really think I should vanish for a while?”
It turned out Christopher was in PR. When we met him as one of the suppliers for our business, he was working with the supplier as a consultant, helping to build the brand. And hopefully, land some new clients.
His strength was PR, which explained why his pitch about working with them wasn’t mind-blowing. His press management advice, however, was the stuff of legends.
Christopher couldn’t tell me the names he had managed in the past, but he referenced their scandals. One of them was a story I knew well. He had handled the secret and covered-up affair of an influencer we all knew; Annabelle Anderson.
Everyone in our social circle knew about her husband’s affair. But it didn’t make the press, thanks to Christoper. What was his secret at to surviving the moment?
Go low. Go invisible. Go unnoticed. Become a nonentity. Don’t post on social media. Don’t go to events. Don’t make any big bold decisions that will mean all would be on you.
Now, it’s not like I’m famous.
I wasn’t exactly walking red carpets every night.
“Well,” said Christopher, “You showed up at his office unannounced. That’s showing your face in public. You can’t risk a run-in with him anytime soon. Not until you know how you feel, and what you want post break up.”
When he spoke, Christopher made these glorious gestures with his hands. You couldn’t help but take his advice.
“Return to the surface once you’ve realised how fabulous you are without him.”
I was taking his advice literally. Last night I ordered a spin bike so I wouldn’t need to go to the gym. And I reactivated my Uber Eats app so I wouldn’t need to go out for dinner.
I would hide.
And I would get through this.
Day 44: Tales Of Scandulous Influencers And Love Limits
I put on my runners this morning, headed for my usual spin class with GG when I remembered the words of James’ non-boyfriend, Christopher.
Lay low. Only resurface when I’m over my ex.
Easier said than done, I repeated.
Considering Christopher was a PR guru and knew how to handle the likes of influencer Annabella Anderson, I trusted him.
She was one of those cliched influencers. She defined the negativity people said about this so-called career choice.
We went to school together; she joined my school in year 11. I went to an all-girls catholic private school. As much as the school preached calm, order, and respect toward each other, we were fiercely cruel to anyone who allowed us to be.
I was the victim in year 9, enduring daily targeting by a collection of bullies. By the time I was in year 11, I had learned how to hold my own. It’s amazing what survival instincts will do for you.
By the time Annabella arrived, everyone had their friendship groups, their social circle, locked into place.
You would have thought the sore thumb would struggle to assimilate.
I know I would have.
But on the first day, she flirted with the egos of the head of the “cool group” and she was in.
Even back then she was a beauty but didn’t have much upstairs. I wondered if she was still the same.
I haven’t seen her much in person since we graduated, not enough to know what’s really like now. But she’s all over my Instagram like a rash. There’s no shortage of social media love for her.
And how she found her fame?
She married a notorious Melbourne businessman. Who liked the women, quite a lot, as the rumours went.
Hence the story for Christopher to bury.
And if he buried that scandal, one that would surely ruin Annabella’s squeaky clean, family-first image, I needed to listen to him.
Returning my runners to their spot in my wardrobe, I stripped off my exercise clothes and retreated to the shower.
The warm water ran over my body, and I pressed my body against the cold glass. My body seized; the last time I assumed this position, Douglas’ hands were on my back. His body was inside me. He was making me scream.
Oh shit. How many days was my self-isolation going to last? I have to get out of here.
Or re-do the bathroom. Something. Anything.
When James arrived for work, I told him all about my shower flashbacks.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?”
James didn’t flinch at my story. “Babe, please, you’re horny. How long has it been since you’ve screwed anyone? Or screwed yourself?”
I shook my head. James responded by picking up his keys. “Come on, I’m taking you to Sexyland.”
“I can’t go there. I’m not allowed to leave the house, remember?”
I could see from the look on his face James wasn’t too happy I was taking Christopher’s advice literally.
Oh well.
Day 45: Tales Of Party Invitations And Possible Ex Run-Ins
It was the first time I had ever refused an invitation from GG to dinner.
Especially one hosted at her boyfriend’s penthouse in South Yarra. He lived a five-minute walk from Chapel Street.
The twenty-three-story building I’ve always suspected he owned was in the trendy part of South Yarra. In the part without being full of disrespectful yuppies.
He was near the restaurants but not close enough to suffer when they were exploding with tourists. And the clubs? I’ve always felt surprised he never built one in the building.
But of course, he didn’t have to. He had all the ins, and they were at arms reach at any time.
The odd time I would see his Maserati parked in GG’s driveway, I wondered why he would slum it by staying at Lovelock Drive. Even though it wasn’t exactly cheap to live in Camberwell, either.
I often wondered the same thing about Douglas. I guess I don’t understand the mindset of the rich men of Melbourne.
It’s probably why I didn’t survive as a girlfriend of one.
I had no idea if Taylor had asked his brother to this party. The last time he put together any event, Douglas had escaped to Singapore without telling me.
We were together at the time, too.
I couldn’t rely on history repeating itself. I couldn’t rely on blind luck, a chance fortune that he would stay away. Or that he would have something else on.
I imagined the PR guru Christopher standing beside me, advising me on my next move.
‘Don’t risk it,’ he would say. ‘You’re not ready yet, it isn’t your time.’
I obeyed him, deciding then and there I had to draw a line. If I wanted to get over this breakup, I had to sacrifice.
I wouldn’t go to the party.
I couldn’t go to the party.
And she would have to understand. Everyone would have to understand. This was something I had to do.
The moment the group message landed in my Whatsapp inbox, I called GG.
“Babe, you got a moment.” GG was at work, I could hear the hum of her office in the background. “Sure. Is this about the party?”
“Yeah. I’m not going to be able to make it. But have fun without me.” I waited for her to ask me why, but she didn’t. Her tone barely faltered. “No worries, love. Next time, huh?”
“Mm, hmm. Next time.”
The call ended, not by me, the cold ending issuing a pang of regret in my stomach.
What had I done?!
Was GG’s stoic attitude an indication that I had completely screwed this up? Or was it really just ok and I was making something out of nothing?
Lately, it always felt like the latter.
It felt like I was the one losing my mind and my friends didn’t quite understand what was wrong with me.
I missed the old me. I missed everything that existed before Douglas arrived in my life.
Day 46: Tales Of Frustrated BFFs And Soiree FOMO
I couldn’t remember the last time Taylor had a mid-week party.
When GG asked us to her boyfriend’s place for one of his soirees, I hadn’t put it together it was on a Thursday night.
Not until Sophia noted she would be there after work and might be a little late.
I felt sad when she said that; I missed her. I hadn’t seen her lately, not since she revealed she was planning threesomes with her on/off boyfriend Malcolm.
I wanted to know if they had gone through with the planning.
Perhaps my body remembering Douglas in my bed, in my shower, bending me over my couch was starting to play mind tricks on me.
Either that or it really has been too long since a man made me forget my cares and worries, and pleasured me beyond recognition.
Back to the party. At least if anyone asked why I wasn’t there, I could blame the mid-week clash. That would be my excuse, anyway.
James spent the day on edge. As the hours ticked past, he kept asking me what time it would be ok if he left. The more he asked, the more I assured him he could leave anytime.
I didn’t care to adhere to our six knockoff times. There would be days in the future when I would need his flexibility, so better to stack up the work favors now before I had to beg.
God forbid if I needed to leave early one day for a date. Or a daylight booty call.
That would be the day, I told myself. Wishful thinking.
The time clicked over to three and James was squirming more than ever.
I had never seen him like this before anything. Not even one of our big meetings. Not even when finding the supplier to change our humble idea into a monumental reality.
After pacing the kitchen and fueling himself with another litre of coffee, I watched James storm out of the house and into the backyard. My little space outside wasn’t big enough to make any meaningful strides in, yet James seemed to make the performance work.
I followed him out there.
“Babe, are you ok? Why don’t you just get out of here now?”
He looked at me but wouldn’t stop pacing. “I’m fine. I can wait.”
He couldn’t wait. He was bursting out of his skin with impatience. It didn’t know whether to feel offended or not.
Yet, this was my best friend and I knew him well enough to feel offended. This manifesting anxiety wasn’t about me. It was about something else.
The more he wouldn’t tell me why, though, and the more he wanted to escape the day, the more this something else was something he didn’t want me to know.
I couldn’t deal with it anymore.
“James, go. You’re no good to me like this. And have fun, ok? Just have fucking fun.”
With a hug and a kiss on the cheek, James left. Thank god this day was nearly over.
Day 47: Tales Of Hungover Besties And Hungry “Sticks”
The doorbell rang.
It was Uber Eats with coffee and muffins I had ordered from Candy’s down the end of the street.
The delivery driver screwed up his face when I answered the door. “I thought you were going to be some disabled chick.” He handed me the bag. “Why didn’t you get this stuff yourself?”
There were a million reasons I might not have been able to walk the ten houses down to the shop. Surely we were well past needing to look impaired before people assumed our abilities. Alas, here we were.
And I wasn’t about to tell him that I was hiding from my ex-boyfriend and I was waiting until I felt ready to conquer the world before I left the house again.
This idiot didn’t deserve to know my personal agony.
I took the cups and brown paper bag out of his hand.
“Because I couldn’t be ass-ed. Is that ok by you?”
He shrugged and left.
I would have thought someone who made money from people’s laziness wouldn’t bite the hand that feeds them.
“Coffee is here,” I called out to James.
He was lying on the couch, where he had been since stumbling into my house at three this morning. I was still waiting for an explanation why he came home to me, instead of his apartment only five minutes away.
In his inebriated state, he said something about hiding. Whatever that meant.
“Give it to me,” James said, holding out his hand but remaining prone along the sofa. “I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks.”
“Was the party that good?” I asked him. I had been dying to know everything about Taylor’s soiree. From the stale red wine odor radiating from my lounge room, it seemed like an epic night.
Had I chosen to skip the wrong party?
No one had posted any pictures online yet. But I had seen pictures of Taylor and GG on Dailymail. I couldn’t figure out where they had been taken. It might not have been from last night at all.
“It was strange,” James began. “I had never seen so many sticks there in my life.” In this context, sticks meant skinny girls. Very skinny girls. 90’s thin.
“GG was introducing them to me, but she said it was the first time she was meeting them. They were all over Taylor. I told her to kick them out.”
I imagined them wandering around Taylor’s beautiful apartment, which was practically GG’s now, too. I had seen girls like this before trying to steal Taylor’s attention. He never gave in, ever, but it was exhausting to watch.
Especially because they weren’t that much younger than us.
“They were all over everyone. I can’t unsee it.”
In my head I couldn’t unsee the obvious; they were all over Douglas, too.
But had he been there at the party? I still had no idea.
Day 48: Tales Of Confessions And BFFs With Ex BFs
It’s been days since I left the house. And today will be another day the streak continues.
James is here at my dining room table; he has been here since seven this morning. Now it’s approaching ten, I know I should get up and join him for work.
Though it is a Saturday and I wasn’t the one who hadn’t spent time away from work.
When you put self-imposed travel restrictions on yourself, it turns out you get a lot done. I feel like I’m an unstoppable working machine right now.
Lying in bed, I wondered how much longer I could get away without waking. I imagined this was what it would be like to live with someone, to have a man care about you, to have someone wonder why you still haven’t surfaced from the bedroom.
It felt nice. Real.
I messaged James. “I’m awake.”
I heard him quickly run down the hallway before bursting into my bedroom. He jumped on the bed and threw his body onto mine. It was unelegant, very unlike him.
Again, something else real to hold onto right now.
“I can’t believe you’ve been working all this time. You’re putting me to shame.” I held him tight and pulled him into the covers with me.
If James wasn’t my best friend and solely interested in penis, he would be the one.
“I owe it to you. And I feel guilty.” James pulled the blanket up and over his head. “You don’t hate me, do you?”
His pleas for forgiveness went muffled.
“For skiving off work the last couple of days? Pl-ease. As long as it’s not the new normal, we’re all good.”
James wouldn’t surface from under the covers. “Come on, get out of there,” I pleaded
He wouldn’t come up for air. “I partied with him. I partied with the devil.” Who was the devil? We didn’t have anyone who went by that nickname. “Who?”
“Douglas.”
I pulled back the doona and revealed James with his hand over his face. “He was there?” I don’t know why I sounded surprised. I wasn’t at all; I knew he would be.
At that moment, I completely validated my decision to stay home and stay away from the party. I knew I had done the right thing. No questions.
“So are you trying to tell me you had fun with my ex?” James nodded.
This was an important moment for me. It was the point where I could flip out, get upset and act like a tortured bitch and chastise my friends for being normal human beings. Or I could be rational and act like a person who had their shit together.
I pulled James into me. “Don’t worry about it. Seriously. Just tell me he looked terrible and had bad breath or something like that.”
We laughed together. But I wanted to know everything that happened.
I couldn’t help it. You can never help it.
Day 49: Tales Of Instagram Exes And Getting A Grip
Tea.
My phone.
Sunshine.
Sunglasses.
My backyard.
Heaven.
Well, it would be if I could go out somewhere else so I could appreciate what I have. Instead, my cabin fever has reached a fever pitch.
I was determined to not let Christopher’s advice not be a waste of time. But laying low, never going anywhere until I had my breakup under control, was like being in prison.
A luxurious prison, with round-the-clock room service in the form of food delivery.
Still, I was over it.
This would be the last day I do this, I told myself. I was quitting the reclusive life. I wasn’t going to let any man dictate what I do.
I also wasn’t going to let any relationship define my actions. Needing sanctuary to get my head straight?
Oh, come on.
I wasn’t married to the guy.
We never even told each other we love were in love. How could I need so much intervention?
Get a grip, girl. Get over it.
And with that blunt self-talk, I knew I could get over it. I would open up Instagram, go to Douglas’ tagged photos, and see all the chaos from Thursday night’s soiree. And I would be fine.
F-I-N-E.
Watch me do it.
In the basking sun, I opened up the app and found his profile. Of course, I had to be incognito an use Highway’s Instagram page. Thank god we had this secret account Douglas didn’t know about yet.
When I logged in, Douglas’ name appeared on my feed straight away. No searching required.
Any slightly savvy social media user would know this wasn’t by coincidence; it was because this account was following him.
How did this happen? How did Douglas know about the name of our business? Who of my friends had been blabbing to the one man who doesn’t need to know this?
I clicked on the profile and stared at his feed. Him and sticks, everywhere.
At the pool. By the beach. In the gym. In his bed.
Different women. The same smug, single man unaffected by any type of heartbreak.
And now he was all up in my business.
Something was going on, and I had to find out what it was.
You’re reading a recap of The Andie Chronicles, the 2023 romance-fiction series from the 1 Lovelock Drive (1LD) universe.
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