Liz Jones's Diary: In which we (sort of) make up
In response to my missive saying his last email was really mean, he replied:
‘Really, you think it was nasty? It certainly wasn’t meant that way. I was trying to show you where I was coming from and why I feel the way I do.
'Do you not think that saying (in print) that you are using me as a hotel, and I am using you for sex, when we are meant to be engaged, is not nasty?
‘You have not once said, “I’m sorry,”’ he told me. ‘I just get rehashed justification’
'You know damn well my financial position but you made it clear you wanted me to propose. You even said that had I not, in the most romantic room/city in the world, then what was the point.
‘One of the big differences between us is that you believe everything you do is right. You have not once said, “I’m sorry.” Instead, I just get rehashed justification.
'Just to be clear, I do love you. I am trying to change to please you. What are you doing to please me?’
So he felt pushed into proposing.
I have tried to please him. I made him comfortable in my London flat for over a year.
I took him to St Tropez, to Paris, to the Pig near Bath. I dressed up.
I’ve had God only knows how many spa treatments. I bite my tongue when I get to his flat and there is no food.
Why do men never admit they are wrong? But I don’t want to lose him. I do love him, too.
I know he isn’t good on paper – untidy, in his 60s, a meat eater, no money – but there is a chemical attraction. There always has been.
‘Dear David, you always knew that I write a column about my life. I’m very used to writing what happens without a filter and it is difficult not just for me, but for anyone near me.
'I did tell you it felt like a hotel staying with you and to avoid that I haven’t stayed there as I don’t want to use you.
'I am really sorry. I do love you. I completely understand where you are coming from.’
Later, when I was in bed beneath five cats (he’s not getting custody of Prudence), I got this:
‘You make my heart sing. That’s all and more than I wanted to hear.
'I’m sorry too that I disappointed you. Please come and stay here next time you are in London and see if you can spot the difference. Love you, too.
'Must sleep now. Now that I’m happy it will be a good sleep. x’
I was on the train to London the next day, and emailed him this:
‘Hey Dave, maybe we need some ground rules. You clean up the flat and try to be vegetarian when you’re with me. You need to talk more.
'I stop writing what you think is nasty.
PS Do you want to come with me to the private view of Savage Beauty at the V&A? It’s a red carpet thing…?’
I only have one McQueen item in my wardrobe: a trouser suit. I bought it for the Obama state dinner; it’s now shiny with wear, but it will have to do.
‘Hi, yes, I can do that. Happy to. Perhaps you could try to temper your fondness for arguments.
'I know you enjoy them, and they are grist to your mill, but I don’t. Yes to McQueen. Xxx’
Actually, what I haven’t been doing is arguing. I have been asking him to do things, and he has been refusing, ignoring my requests.
So to avoid conflict, I avoided him. Simple.
I sent him this: ‘Did you feel forced into proposing?’
Him: ‘No. Not at all. I want to be with you. I don’t understand why I get such gyp for my choice of a TOKEN ring.
'Then you criticise me for proposing at all, because I’m not in a position to. You have to stop doing that. I just want to make you happy.’
‘I write what’s in my head. All women talk about men to their friends, it’s just that normally the man doesn’t get to hear about it.
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'Better to propose but say, “I can’t afford a ring.” If you want to make me happy, clean your flat!’
‘Do you have a dog for that bone?’
‘I do, actually. Four! Well, three and a half. This is a perfect example. You being the culprit has turned into me being the nag but, actually, what I’m asking is not unreasonable. Would you date a woman who lived the way you do? Be honest.’
