Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

I have a new pet. A small and very cute creature has made a new home in the outer wall of my Clapham apartment. As the apartment colleagues go, he is not so bad: nocturnal, quiet. Occasionally we meet eye to eye: I am obviously on his territory. But after a few weeks I think we have learned to live with a respectful attitude. Unfortunately, since it is a rat. I had to call the pest control and they planned to make delicious (but still poisoned) rats food. Being a soft-on, I refused to let them down until I tried to move it.

He was out

In true Phil and Kirsty style. I locked his “front door” with a paint basket and a few bricks while he was out and about to stop him from coming back. Hoping he would find somewhere more suited to his needs. (ie compact and bijous and not near the back door). He moved away? He did the hell? That rat was sitting, watching the door locked in front for hours. Until he thought “sweeten it”, slammed it back, and by the willpower (and very sharp teeth). Occasionally falling through the effort involved. , chewed his way through the area near the wall, returned to his hole and sat there, his nose beating out. My house. Silent.

Small black Toxic container

Hard-working. Triumphant. I had to admit, I was full of admiration. Eventually, the pest control people came back and insisted on putting down the poisoned food. He didn’t bite. As they pulled down the small black toxic container, they asked me if they had any small fluffy creatures that might try to get in the box and eat the food. I just said my friend.

A was neither silent nor industrious. In fact, he was very vocal. We met and started like a house on fire, drinking wine on the river followed by Bolly at a jazz restaurant. Fun, smart and pretentious, it wasn’t immediately what you labeled a good catch.

Colombian Economy

Slim as a willow with a dandelion and a healthy dose of athlete’s foot. He was constantly sucking on a cigarette and on a good night would have been able to keep the entire Colombian economy in one hand for a year. It was a cross between a naughty choir boy, David Kleinfeld of Carlito’s Way, and Boober Fraggle.

It seems that our first meeting went so well that I was forced to pray to go out with him, to give me the keys to the house and to suggest a meeting with friends, cousins ​​and most significant ones (I didn’t realize important), the mother, who was visiting for several weeks. The second meeting involved several offers of keys to the house and a child in a few years. On the third he was talking about the holidays and he told me that if I wasn’t careful, he would fall madly in love with me.

She was Worried

I met his friends and I was introduced as “missus” and “his better half”. Telling my best friend about his quick statements, she was worried, pointing out that this was just normal behavior and it seemed like a short picnic sandwich. I think he thought I was collecting another tracker, but I didn’t think so. I smiled and let him continue

It’s flattering to be worshiped, but my rat had something to learn. My friend was right, there wasn’t anything right about it and just a week ago, the cracks started to appear. The boy was overwhelming in his affection and charm when we were together, but with all his mouth and no pants. When I was not with him, he was unable to perform: arranging me to meet, respond to texts asking for details of things he had invited me, planning more than 12 hours in advance.

Hay Hay

After a night of his characteristic enthusiasm, the next day he could be gone in the cold. He was in pain to point out that he was an excellent liar. He wasn’t – from suddenly developing “hay hay” after a trip at 11:00 pm to the pub toilet (I sympathized with the pollen number and insisted on taking a tissue to blow his nose J) to tell me that he was shopping on Sloane Street with his mother when just five days ago he had taken her to the airport to fly to France for a week, his lies were constant, funny and transparent.

After two Weeks

It seems that it was extremely difficult to remain faithful to the women, although he insisted that he is different from me. One privileged child, he was obsessed with what his mother believed. After two weeks, when we had arranged to catch up in the afternoon, he was unable to meet at all, only staying in bed and getting up to work his night shift. I’m done with it. He told me that he was not able to have relationships and that he should stick to a night stand and try therapy, “It’s my background,” he breathed. Acknowledged that his absolute selfishness and selfishness prevented him from being able to care for another person. He knew that our slow destruction was entirely up to him, and all I could do was sit back, fascinated in a way.

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