LIZ JONES'S DIARY: In which I find myself counting the cost
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Nic guessed I had seen him, though I had lied and said I’d been staying with my friend Sue. I told her I didn’t want the inevitable telling off, followed by ‘I told you so.’. ‘I’ve worked for you for over 15 years,’ she replied. ‘I just don’t want you to get hurt.’.
I told her what transpired: that he left our room after sex at 1am. She was outraged: ‘Asking you to live with him when you have only met four times? He can’t even last the night! And saying he should have taken you to his flat? Why would you leave a five-star hotel room in the middle of the night? It makes no sense. He is having a lovely time but has to leave?’.
. I broke the habit of a lifetime and sent him my column about the night he left my hotel post-sex to make sure he was OK with it. The whole column was complimentary. I said he looked like Daniel Craig. I didn’t write he (again) failed to pay for dinner. Or that he opened a bottle of red wine in my room and slurped clumsily from a glass while straddling me. I had nursed a secret hope that he had settled the dinner bill as he scuttled away, but when the hotel emailed the bill to me the next morning, nope: it still stood at over £200. Just for dinner and drinks.
Having had no response and wanting to go to press with last week’s missive, I asked if he was OK with it. ‘Not so sure, will look more tomorrow. Just give me some time.’. I am afraid I ran out of patience. ‘I left a lot out. It’s hard dating the UK’s most-read writer, so I understand if you want to bow out gracefully. But the first thing I said when we met was “google me”. I haven’t identified you. I have offered to stop writing about you and to say we split up. I didn’t write that you again failed to pay for dinner. This is mad. I’m apologising for being a writer and having a job. You left at 1am when I made a 500-mile trip to see you, booked a £540 room and you left despite saying you want me to give up everything and move to London to be with you. Saying you don’t like checkout doesn’t ring true. It seems you can’t spend five minutes in my company. I’m not a desperate little woman. I deserve respect.’.
