We agreed we weren’t going to row on his last night but he got drunk on sloe gin and noticed a change in my mood in which I wasn’t liking him though it was hard to pin down why not: he was boring me, continually talking through programmes I was watching the better to distract. I’d objected myself during his endless watching of television news too. While the light was on I’d done my shunting of cds to play during the coming week as I do every week. He accused me of flaunting my arse to make him desire me. I wasn’t but obviously his desire had been incited that he was blaming me for. I didn’t say that and can’t deny whatever he felt was in relationship to me. I didn’t want to put the light back on to do more shunting or add to my diary so was at a loss what to do.
His big moment came when I replied, “But you haven’t given me the address of your flat…?” assuming he’d said he’d given me it. I wasn’t listening too closely by that time but was pretty certain the word address had been in his statement and that he was assuming I had it. I think this arose from his thinking my mood was to do with being glad to be shot of him or discontinuing friendship at his going because that too ensued in his argument. Primarily though he took umbrage at my use of the word ‘flat’ when I knew he didn’t have one but only a shared room to go to and that I was being one up by putting him down on that basis. He was imputing to me what wasn’t the case. “I wouldn’t do that.” It’s young men do that, thinking to put themselves up by putting another of them down; their talk is almost entirely composed of that sort of thing. Anyway, I wasn’t this time agitated or made angry, unlike the night before.
When he came back this morning he apologised for being argumentative. “You can be argumentative,” I gave him leave. He knew I wasn’t being one-up, he said. “I didn’t want to tell you this morning you’d made a mistake in case it depressed you that you had when you’d things to do.” His apology made me emotional on his behalf, nothing to do with the love feeling earlier from John’s letter, I was also telling him I’d had. I went out, leaving him to get on with his washing he wants dry to take with him at tea time to his room up town. It was still in its rinse water in the machine when I got back with a spaghetti sauce to give him a quick lunch before he set off on business he had to do between then and tea, which will be squid.