For a month, between April and May, my ex’s house was being renovated. He came to live here. We got on great. We talked a lot about how fun it was living together. And, of course, the plan was still that we would live together full-time after the summer.
At the end of his stay here at April Towers he gave me a gift – an original print by the French street artist, Dran. Le poulet-dinosaure (the chicken-dinosaur). I love my poulet-dinosaure. Check him out.
My ex gave me a big speech when he presented the picture to me, all about how I was the best girlfriend in the world. I was overwhelmed. I cried. And then we held each other all night and watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (ohhhh the irony).
I called my dinosaur Claude, because he’s French. We put him up above my sofa so he could watch TV with me while my ex was in New York.
The night of the pizza of doom, my ex actually commented on how great Claude looked in my flat. And then he stuffed half a pizza into his mouth, and promptly broke my heart.
I now realise that Claude was never a token of love: he was a token of guilt. He was effectively rent for my ex living here for a month. After all, he was never in love with me.
Ouch.
My friends think I should sell Claude.
Looking at him does make me sad, and kind of angry. But Claude didn’t do anything wrong. And he’s quite beautiful.
Meanwhile, to celebrate my 100 followers and give myself a pat on the back for keeping at my new job, I’ve ordered a print of my own. I’m a massive fan of the husband/wife artistic team Kozyndan. They have recently created something quite majestic – an underwater scene of manatees and rabbits living in harmony. I had to have this in my life.
Whatever becomes of Claude, my manatees are going to take pride of place on the wall from now on.
Because my manatees are a token of love. Love for myself.
I’m a good person with a big heart who didn’t do anything wrong. I deserve my manatees.
Pizza of Doom 
Recent Comments