Breaking up is hard to do

So, after two years of the ups and downs, (both literally and metaphorically) of this love affair with my beautiful Italian boy, why is it time to say adieu? If I do want to say goodbye how the hell am I going to do it with the minimal amount of fallout for both of us? For make no mistake about it he is going nowhere fast, I know: I’ve tried to end it before. I’ve tried to make him end it; I’ve run away, 8000 miles away to be exact, all to no avail.

The reason for all this soul searching is simple, he can’t give me what I need, and I can’t give him what he should have.  The problem is also mind numbingly sad, we really do love each other. All great love affairs have an unhappy ending, don’t they?

In the last 5 months we have been through every permutation of what the future might hold for us………but I don’t want to have any more children………and I love him enough to want him to be a father one day……he’s definitely not ready for it yet. He loves me too much to want just to be my occasional boyfriend, and I need a grown up. I need a grown up who when I say I’m tired will make me a cup of tea, take me away for the weekend…….treat me in the manner to which I have always been accustomed. I feel like the Princess who has turned into Cinderella, with two teenagers to look after in my house instead of just my 14 year old son.

I grew up in the Far East, became an ‘it’ girl, (probably one of the first) married an aristocrat, had a 50 acre farm….you get the picture.  I’m not a spoiled brat but supporting a man financially is not in my genetic make up. I really can’t afford him and a horse, and the horse wants to stay, I know I’ve asked her!

My boyfriend is an affectionate, self obsessed Italian chauvinist Mummy’s boy. I never meant to get involved, it’s been exhausting and I can see the evidence in the mirror. I look gaunt……..I don’t laugh anymore, I am dying inside  …….I love him but I’m not in love with him, all the clichés .

The crunch is that I can’t write anymore. Yes I can write this kind of thing but I haven’t written a poem for months, and I am a poet.    In case you all haven’t noticed it’s the end of the ‘can do’ era. Banks are crumbling, dreams are being shattered………the planet dying………how bloody depressing is all this? What seemed possible this time last week has suddenly become ridiculous?  Which brings me full circle back to the beginning.
How do I end this love affair?
      Yesterday I took the cowards way out and simply picked holes in him, starting with the imbecilic remarks he made at the Rothko exhibition and continuing by saying how could I reasonably take someone seriously who didn’t know who Poussin was? So basically I told him he was young, stupid, uncultured and a drama Queen.
. Great Victoria ………..not good!!

Then in bed I said that I couldn’t give him what he needed and visa verso……..I just can’t do Bambini unless it was totally private and administered by Yehudi Gordon.  (Leading obstetrician at the St John and St Elizabeth Hospital………Doctor to stars but I found him first as he was my Doctor 14 years ago when I had my son).

Maybe I should just go out with someone else and really make him hate me? I don’t know, so you guys out there help me out. If you were him, what would be the way you would want to be told that it is over..

It’s over but I love you seems such a contradiction in terms Can we have a bit of feedback or a dialogue here please? I am not doing well on my own.
What the hell am I going to do to end this?

That question was very last week, this week it seems to have just ended itself.

One minute he was there beside me being brought breakfast in bed, (by me) and the next he was following me around the kitchen wagging his finger at me and throwing my front door keys on the floor.  This time I let him go, this time I felt sorry for me, this time I’m just about to go out to the cinema with that guy with a Porsche.  Haven’t I told you about him? He’s been asking me out for months, we had a date on the beach in Barbados this summer, and I thought he was 34 but thank God he is 44.  Still technically a toy boy. So although my heart is numb, and I really don’t feel like it, I’m going because this Princess is sick of looking and behaving like Cinderella and turning into an ugly sister. It is the season of parties, and I’m going to go to some for a change, in my ball gown, broken heart or not.

I’m single again, watch this space………..and wait for the poems……….

Victoria Mosley (Siren Song) has two collections of poetry available from Amazon   The Dry Season (1998) Crazy Love (2002) and a cd downloadable from . She is currently working on a novel, ‘Angel’s Wharf.

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