So here's a strange turn of events.
Remember my mum's friend Patrick? Who's friends with Simon? Going out with Maisie? Sister to Dena? Going out with Glen? Yeah, he called Mum up today to tell me that he was moving to London. No, not Patrick. Glen!
Do you remember Glen, Diary? He's the Irish one. No, not Dan or Mark. Think a couple of years back. Our trip to Ireland with Nat and Leanne. After the whole Timothy saga. The Let's Get Clara Trashed In Ireland After Her Horrific Breakup And Hope She Sleeps With A Leprechaun Trip. You remember that, right? The guy that Nat split her drink over before realising that the girl she shared a home with in university was the one sucking face with him. Remember him?
Oh. I know. I didn't know his name. Yeah, that's probably why you're confused. I understand why you're confused now. Sorry about that, Diary. It's hard to remember what I've told you and whether I've corrected you since finding out the real facts.
You see, to you, the guy is called Blue-Boo. Little in-joke between me and the girls that one. And obviously you too, if you remember. Dena didn't actually call him by name the entire night. Or if she did, we were too drunk to remember. All we heard was 'Boo'. And all I really remembered was how blue his eyes were. And so came about Blue-Boo.
His name is Glen. And he's Irish. And he's moving to London, apparently.
I don't know why Mum thought this was something that I needed to be involved in. If it was Dena, then sure. I'd get that. Since that night, she's come to visit a few times and she's pretty amazing. But Glen? Never really got to know him that well. He seems polite enough and everything, but you know. Not really somebody that important in my life, if you know what I'm saying.
And it makes even less sense when you think about the fact that...oh, I don't know...my mother invited him to live with us.
I get my mum's compulsion to help out every single person in the world. She's a sweetheart like that. We've had so many friends of hers crash over for a few days over the years that I've lost count. I could point them out in a crowd, but the exact amount evades me. But this one just doesn't make sense really. We don't know him, and he doesn't know us, so why did she feel the need to adopt him?
I heard the news a few days ago. Which is why I sort of stayed away for a while. And when I said 'heard', I mean that Glen showed up on our doorstep with his things. Yeah, Mum thought it would be a nice surprise if a 'good friend' of mine just showed up without me knowing. What she obviously forgot is that Dena is the good friend, not Glen.
Anyway, Glen's here now. Sleeping in Callum's old room. Poor bloke was really miserable the other night, too. Overheard a teary phone conversation he was having with who I can only guess is Dena. Begging her to take him back, that he would do anything for her. Suppose that relationship went down the drain, huh?
I felt bad for the poor guy. How could I not? It's never nice to see a man cry. It's one of my weaknesses. If a man starts crying in my company, I either start sobbing right along with them or feel immensely uncomfortable and try to find any way to make him smile again. And you know, when you can hear the conversation through the paper-thin walls of our house...
So I thought I'd give the guy a break. He'd clearly had a rough few weeks and a horrific break up, so it was the least I could do. As far as I know, he's never been here before. And I've lived here for all of my life. So who better to take him out to the local to ease him in to the London atmosphere than little old me?
It occurred to me then that sitting in the company of a female for the entire evening, when he's already in mourning for one of our variety, would probably not be the best idea. It would just rub in the fact that he's going through this break up of his, and I know I would hate if someone did that to me if I broke up with Danny. So I had to think of another man in this picture that would be equally as useful as my boyfriend, but who wasn't actually my boyfriend.
