"The worse that he treats me, the more that I love him."

(BTW, check yr mail)

Yesterday I sent Horton a rather drunk email saying that I was in love with him, and I didn't want to see him any more. I'm giving mixed messages as much as he is.

I am going to go to the march now. Better to do something than to sit around feeling like shit. This was his excuse for his behaviour the other night, BTW. "Oh, the war is upsetting me." Yeah, that's why you had to ruin what should have been the best night of my life. Thanks. It's George W Bush, not your temper tantrums, silly me.

Of I go...

I believe that's so in my case anyway.

I'm not trying to shoehorn Kate and Horton into anything remotely like these roles. I don't need to think in those terms to believe that he has treated you badly Kate, more than once, and that he would be bad for you. I also have the sense not to imagine that my opinion has any relevance here - but I do hope you'll be careful, Kate, as I can not imagine any good from this.

Wow. Protest was pretty amazing. I had to cut out early cause I'm going to Cambridge to review We Start Fires, but it was pretty awesome. Not as many people as the last one, obviously, but nearly a million people, regardless. Really good vibe.

I keep thinking about my reactions on Thursday night. The moment Horton went into tantrum mode, I went into preservation mode, tried to calm him down, tried to appease him, kept blaming myself for it all, sacrficed my enjoyment of what was supposed to be the best night of my life. It was like I was with Hasbeen all over again. The smart thing to do would be to just turn around and walk away and say "Go home" but no - I was so programmed that if I walked away from a strop, WORSE things would happen - suicide attempts, infidelity, escalation, stalking, etc. - that I was literally terrified to let Horton go stropping out like that. Every tantrum that Hasbeen threw was accompanied by and excused by an "I love you" - so you learn to interpret that behaviour as showing love, of course, I respond by being more in love with him, that's what I've been programmed to do.

It's not because of the war, that's bullshit. It's because for one night, he wasn't the total fucking centre of attention. Even though I desperately tried to make him the centre of my attention, that wasn't good enough for him.

This shit fucking scares me. I don't want to go back there, I don't want to go through this again. This isn't love, this is manipulation and control. I've deleted his number from my phone, I've deleted his email address from my address book. This isn't healthy, this has to end.

Isn't that the story of my life? The most powerful events of the last few years have been marred by boys. Why do boys suck so hard, and why do I *LET* them suck so hard?

You've got it reversed. The more you love them the worse they'll treat you.
We create our own hell. The birthday party solution is simple. It's complicated only because you want it to be.

"Should be's," "supposed to be's" and "could've been's" are a big load of horse shit. There are only "is's," "are's" and "were's."

Her friends took umbrage first. We stopped extending invitations to Kate unless she came along without James, who we began insulting to his face, asking when he was going to get a job or whatever scheme he was in the midst of off the ground. We had noticed he was always throwing wobblies the night before her most important work days and told her to keep what was going on at work secret from him, because he was trying to make her feel useless when she could least afford to be. He turned into a bit of a stalker for a month and I turned into the evil flatmate: 'no, she isn't here, she's gone on a package holiday to Neptune'.

He didn't go quickly, and Kate was the type who worried about her reputation and I think was trying to keep him sweet in case he called her a slut all over West London (honestly, she was kind of a Daily Mail girl and was scared of being hoist by these sorts of petards). Every couple of weeks, I'd wake to find his bike in the hallway - he'd clearly wormed his way back - and would shove it out onto the doorstep where I prayed the local feral 10-year-olds would thief it to pieces.

Kate eventually left James, but did so by making James think he was dumping her. I've never clapped eyes on him since, and Kate did eventually get her shit together - but she never would have without completely cutting off Mr Limelight Stealer.

From everything my current Flatmate Kate says, HJ has Limelight Stealer written all over him. These boys never get anywhere with their plans because they always attach themselves to charismatic but troubled girls who are more talented and more intelligent than they are. But in the event that their own plans for world domination fail, and they always do, all they can do is ruin someone else's.

With HJ, a lot of it is my own fault. I attached myself to him as much as he ever attached himself to me. And please remember he is NOT my boyfriend, and we are NOT in a romantic relationship. Which kind of even makes it worse, cause I'm not even getting that tiny thrill out of it. He's just a confused and fucked up and troubled man. My problem with him, and I think all of my friends' problem with him is not actually with *him* - but with the way that *I* act when I'm around him and under his influence.

:-(

actually i'll email you now.

or ring me. whatever.

I suddenly remembered something very funny about Thursday night. Standing chatting to Peter H at the aftershow, going "Wah wah wah, I just played the gig of my life, and all I'm doing is stressing out about this dumb boy that just blew me off..." and Peter just grinned and said something like "Yes, Courtney..." Or maybe I hallucinated that. I don't know.

I am so angry, why can't I concentrate on this article? I think of my brother getting paid to spew out his Republican race-hatred on his right wing websites and I can't throw together 350 words of love and joy about a band that inspire me. :-(

oh my god, this describes what used to happend with my ex almost to a t. suicide threats were used as ways to seek attention, manipulate and guilt trip me all the time. and every episode of psychotic-ness was followed by "but i love you and can't live without you etc. etc. etc." and there was always some lame-o excuse lined up when i'd call him on his shit, like "oh, but i think i'm (insert random mental illness here), and it's not really me that's doing this blah blah blah". and always a promise of "i won't do this again".

when i finally broke it off (successfully) he said he was cutting himself up (carving up his arms). he was trying to get attention from me, but i refused and totally ignored him. i stopped answering the phone, and got my sister to tell him i wasn't home. eventually, he stopped calling.

Kate, just keep strong and keep thinking like you're thinking. you fucking DESERVE to enjoy your accomplishments and don't need anybody dragging you down. i think anger is good in a situation like this, it lets you think more clearly (as odd as that sounds!). Good luck, and i hope the birthday party works out ok.

(Of course I was not a grown-up about it. I slagged him off in passing in my review. Heh heh. CTCL is just one big bubbling hotbed of this sort of shit...)

Strength. I need strength.

and fuck being grown up about it, when someone's fucked you around like that, having a couple of digs in an article is nothing compared to what they've done to your self esteem, emotions etc.

i am sure you will find the strenght you need, since your head is already in the right place, and i'm assuming you *are* strong to begin with, since you've lived through similar shit before!

so sorry it's all gone so odd. guess that's someone else I always got on well with, who I can now probably not talk to in the same way again. Bah.

The ironic thing is, because you are a Music Journo, and because he views you as an Important Contact who can help his career, he'll never actually pull this sort of shit with you. So you don't have to alter your behaviour in any way.

I've just received an interesting little piece of information, though, from a friend, which makes me think that the night was not in vain.