The weight that fell away from me after our talk is almost indescribable.  Not just for selfish reasons, i.e. that hopefully it means Madam ABBA Girl’s days as a presence in my life are numbered, but more importantly, the Viking is who I thought he was.  Way, way back before I met THM, I thought – and wrote here – that I was excited to meet them partly to get to know my boyfriend in a new way through them.  People’s friends reflect them, to some extent, I believe, and one aspect of the whole clusterf*ck that has been troubling me, is that he would chose someone like her as a friend.   Phew.

I realize that the Viking is a grown man and doesn’t need me to go all Mama Bear on him, but I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to speed up a little the plan I already had for easing ABBA Girl out of our lives.  Unfortunately, my plan so far consists of:

1. Ease ABBA Girl out of our lives.

I suspect it’s going to need a little fine tuning before being put into motion.

Especially because yesterday the Viking then came home and announced that we were invited to Asterix’s stuga again for something called a “kräfta” party, and guess who is also coming?  I looked at him, searching for any acknowledgement of the conversation we had had the previous night in which I’d felt that we were on the same page about ABBA Girl, but he just asked if it would be okay for me not to work at the kayak place that weekend.   In addition to the company we will be keeping, I’m also not exactly thrilled at returning to the scene of my nighttime craziness, so overall I just felt like we had taken a giant step backwards.

It sucks not being a diabolical genius.  I know that, in the real world, there aren’t any plans for stuff like this and I just have to bide my time and be on the Viking’s side and things will turn out as they should, but still a part of me really wants to be rubbing my hands together with an evil grin and plotting how she won’t know what hit her.  I guess, as much as I would love him to,  it actually says a lot for the Viking that he won’t just drop her friendship out of the blue.

Even though it feels a bit one step forward, two steps back, I have hope and trust that… there’s light at the end of the tunnel, I guess.  He’s on the right track.  And, just as importantly, I feel more in the loop and involved and even in control, than I have in some time.

Last week I didn’t want to talk about the Midsummer Incident (or my night terrors in general) a second longer than necessary, so I just listened to what he told me that day in the park then brushed it under the carpet.  This morning before he left for work I calmly and firmly told him that I want to know if it happens again.  Always and immediately: I don’t want to be ignorant for a second longer than necessary.  He said he completely understood and told me that it’s happened two more times since we have lived together, though never as prolonged or dramatic as the first time on Midsummer.  I thanked him.

SAG texted to ask how it had gone talking to him.  I couldn’t exactly get into it all over text to just said it was cautiously okay and I’d fill her in next time we got together.  She suggested coffee tomorrow morning, and said she was thinking of me.  I smiled.  It’s been a while since I’ve texted with a girlfriend about drama in my life… as opposed to blogging with the great wide world about drama in my life 😉