When I went to meet my old uni friends who were visiting London tonight, my old flatmate piped up “Let’s go see Jersey Boys!”

As I grinned like a mannequin, she could have no idea the thrill of dread which rushed through me.

Jersey Boys is the show which Mr. Will currently features in. The one who strung me along with flirtation and encouragement, only to hand me my first true heartbreak after I’d fallen for him.

I knew watching him onstage was going to be painful, and indeed it was.

The thoughts and feelings I usually work hard to shut away and ignore are forced into your head in those situations. What if we’d hooked up properly? What if we’d had a relationship? Would I have been going to the stage door to meet up, glowing with pride as strangers asked him to sign their programmes?

Would his eyes have fallen on me and melted, as we took the tube home together to discuss our separate days?

Would I have woken up in the night to feel him climbing in beside me, kissing my neck and wrapping his arms around me?

At one time, that was what I imagined. When we met outside a stage door and he contacted me some months later, we began talking. He told me he had held onto my details and remembered be because I was “so beautiful”.

That’s the trouble with actors. They play parts.

And as much as I don’t like to admit it, he is a very good actor.

Not much of a man, but a good actor.

So shortly after moving to London and confessing my feelings, he informed me he wasn’t interested. Never had been. All just fun and words. Just words.

So my heart broke.

Therefore seeing him perform was not something I looked forward to. Not to mention it seemed childish, since he knew i was going to be there, to see him at the stage door after I’d said goodbye to my friends.

My feelings may have moved on, but Mr. Will certainly hadn’t.

After months of barely speaking, after agreeing to be friends, he told me he only had a few minutes as he had a very important cast meet n’ greet, then a dinner, but love you dah-ling we must catch up sometime blah blah blah.

I’d realised before he wasn’t the man I thought he was. But it’s always nice to have it cemented. Because the problem with actors is nothing else matters except them. Them and their “talent”. Everything else is secondary.

And I’m afraid I don’t want to be someone’s after-thought in life. I may not be perfect, not by a long way, but I have a lot more to offer someone than to just be there to massage their ego. Everyone deserves more than that. People that settle for that role are fools.

As we walked round the corner together I thought how satisfying it would be to punch him in the nose, therefore bloodying him up nicely before this supposed photoshoot. I’m afraid I resisted. But whatever his charms, I know now that they will never work on me again. He could fall to his knees before me right now and I wouldn’t be interested.

Why? Because I can’t trust him. He taught me not to give my trust so freely. I will confess that before him I hadn’t known how manipulative men could be. I didn’t realise how easy it is to be taken in by the charm, how some men present one face to the world and keep the other hidden. The one that not only hurts people but seems to delight in playing with their feeling like a toy.

I think when that trust has been destroyed there’s really no going back.

Can we just be friends? I’d like to think we were both mature enough, but actors and emotional maturity don’t really go together. Try them if you don’t believe me – it’s like dealing with spoiled children. I’m not to say I wasn’t at fault too, but to take a young person’s feelings like that…well, let’s just say it’s something I would never do.

And if I’ve learned anything over the past year, since coming to London, it’s that I like men.

But I need something more than a Jersey Boy.



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