since scan: 7. Calls or e-mails from baby's father: 0. Answerphone
checks over weekend: 200. E-mail checks: 0 (BT high speed line broken).
Hurrah! At last feel able to draw a line under past and be calm, mature,
self-sufficient single parent. E-mail supposed to be back on today. Will
be mildly interested to see if Daniel e-mailed over the weekend - but
otherwise calmly detached.
now, was ridiculous ranting with Jude and Shaz on Friday, as if Daniel
and I had had sex together, not a pre-natal scan: ridiculous to debate
non-dating-co-parent version of dating etiquette: how many days after
pre-natal scan should a man call? Is it OK to ask a man to come on a
second scan? Honestly! Chuh!
Hurrah. E-mail is back on.
He hasn't e-mailed. Bastard! Baby is going to be scarred for life and...
gaah! Was supposed to send Y/E April 2004 e-mail to accountant from Mail
Waiting to be Sent box before 8am.
Right. Dunnit. Oh God. Am so late. Ooh, goody! Mobile ringing!
Daniel," I said excitedly, trying simultaneously to convey detached
pregnant serenity, intense sexual allure, and scathing disapproval at
his non-contacting behaviour.
thank you." There was silence. "Why?" I said eventually, starting to
panic and wonder what I'd done: driven off with petrol pump attached to
car again? Walked down Portobello Road trailing long piece of toilet
paper from back of jeans?
e-mail you just sent."
e-mail?" I gabbled. "I haven't sent you an e-mail."
Jan. 9am. Subject: Fuck off you Fucked-Up Toss-Pot."
froze, something bad stirring in my memory.
I read it?" he said, pleasantly. "'Dear Daniel. Your behaviour is beyond
the PAIL' - spelt wrong, corrected to PALE. 'Hmm, though, what does that
mean? Beyond the bucket?' Interesting musings, Jones. Easier to resolve,
I imagine, if you knew how to spell. Anyway, shall I go on? 'Oh fuck it,
stupid pointless tosser. Daniel, you are not fit to be a father. You are
completely dysfunctional and need to go rehash...'. I assume you mean
rehab? 'Yours disgustedly, Bridget. PS: don't bother contacting me
again. Ever. You will not even be invited to the birth. Hahahahahahaha!'."
own hand hard, realising what had happened. Wrote tosser e-mail after I
told Daniel I was pregnant and he put the phone down on me, then left it
in Mail Waiting to be Sent box. Have got into habit of venting feelings
in e-mails and leaving in Mail Waiting to be Sent - like writing letters
you're never going to send to ease psychological turmoil.
realise I haven't called you since the scan, Jones," Daniel was going
on. "But even so, it seems a bit extreme."
must have pressed SEND ALL instead of SEND. What else was in Mail
Waiting to be Sent box?
because we go to a scan together, it doesn't mean we're going out
through my panic, I heard what Daniel was saying. "What?" I burst out,
hypocritically. "I can't believe you've got the same attitude to going
to the scan with me as having sex with me."
come on, Jones."
it's exactly the same. You were carried away with emotion at the time,
and now you're denying it had any meaning whatsoever."
can't do anything right, can I?"
Can't STAND it when men say that after horrible behaviour. "That's like
Osama bin Laden knocking down the World Trade Centre and then saying 'I
can't do anything right'." I exploded.
snorted: "a) that's an absurd comparison and b) there's still no reason
to send an e-mail like that."
I said, "a) I sent it by accident, but b) I wrote it after I told you I
was pregnant and you put the phone down on me."
never put the phone down on you."
shut up, Jones. What knickers are you wearing?"
then the landline rang and the answerphone clicked on. "Bridget. It's
Mark. I just got your, er, e-mail."
that that boring old bastard Darcy?" said Daniel. "Look. OK. I did put
the phone down. But I was just kidding."
maybe you should stop, 'just kidding'," I hissed, trying to listen to
Mark at the same time, whilst frantically pulling up my Outgoing Mail
box. "I've no idea what's real and what isn't real."
be honest, Jones, neither have I."
That's why you should be in rehab."
Had just sent hundreds of Waiting to Be Sent messages: to Mark Darcy
(before I knew I was pregnant, drunkenly blathering about getting back
together), Jude, Richard Finch, Dr Warthead...
do appreciate your so, er, passionately wanting to re-unite," Mark was
saying on the answerphone. "But, you are pregnant by another man..."
I've got to go."
an extreme emergency. Bye."
Darcy had rung off, but phone rang again.
- Shazzer on answerphone: tone glacial - "Just got your e-mail. Thank
you for sharing what you really think about me, bitch. Goodbye forever."
no! What did I put? I've got to go. Richard Finch will sack me.
Walked in to find Finch yelling: "I'm thinking Michael Barrymore. I'm
thinking dead-gay-guy-in-swimming pool's father. Get me a list of dead
gay celebrities who've, ah... Bridget. Come to clear our desk, have we?"
I said, panic-stricken.
"Gather round, boys and girls. I'm going to read you Bridget Jones' resignation e-mail. 'Richard. I have absolutely had enough of this disgusting lowest-common denominator form of television. I studied English at Bangor University and really feel I deserve better. Every thought in your head is common and reduces everything to the worst aspects of human behaviour. I do not want to spread cynicism, sexism and prurience through my work, but positivism, serenity and joy. Even though I am pregnant with no money you can stuff your stupid job up your fat arse. Harharhar!'."