Phil came over this afternoon. I had horrendous period pain and a headache, which I told him about before he arrived. I told him I’d be monging on the sofa in my pyjamas and asked if he was okay with that. He said he’d bring his PJs and mong too.

Josh answered the door and sat with us for the first ninety minutes, chatting and watching TV. When Josh went upstairs, Phil said that he didn’t feel welcome as I hadn’t even answered the door to him and hadn’t spoken to him since he got there, which wasn’t true.

I got up to sort out dinner – despite the period pain – came back a few minutes later and found Phil on my laptop. I’d left it open on a blank page of my diary ready to write later. Phil had clearly gone through some of it, as he was on a page that was about him. I asked what he was doing, and he said he thought it was photos, so he was looking through. It was a lie. There were no photos visible when I left the room. He said he’d seen a photo of himself, so he was trying to read what I wrote, but the writing was too small. I couldn’t believe he would do that and lie to try and justify it, too.

I was absolutely livid. How dare he go through my diaries? His reply to that was to say that I told him to make himself at home, to make himself drinks or get food and just treat it like his home (months ago I said that), and so that was what he was doing. As far as he’s concerned, looking through my personal documents and diaries on my laptop falls under making himself at home.  He apologised and expected everything to be okay just because he’d said sorry, but it really isn’t. Everyone in this house respects everyone else’s privacy. Amelia and Rosie write diaries; they make no attempt to hide them because they know that no one would ever even think about looking in them. The trust in this house is so high that we’ve never had to say to each other, “Don’t look”; we just respect each other not to, but Phil thinks it’s okay for him to come along and read my personal diaries. How dare he!

I really resented him being here after that and would have preferred him to go home, but I decided to give the evening a chance. It went from bad to worse.

Phil wanted to talk about what I’d written in yesterday’s diary (I’d shared that with him as I felt it was an important part of me working through relationship issues), and he made it all about him. He said it was clear from what he read that I didn’t want to be with him and that I didn’t want a relationship. I tried to explain that what it actually was was me working through why relationships don’t work for me, which obviously meant that now I understood, I could start working on it a bit more. He just didn’t get it at all; it was, as far as he was concerned, more evidence that I don’t want to be with him.

We talked about his health, and I tried in the nicest, kindest way possible to say that actually it was an issue for me. He showed me an old photo of himself when he was healthier, and I told him what I found attractive about it – the fact that he looked like someone who cared about himself and respected himself coming out on top. I tried to make light of it and explain how even more incredible sex could be if he was fitter and healthier, to which he replied, “Well, Antonia was more than satisfied with the sex.” Not once in the two years we’ve known each other have I ever outwardly compared Phil to Tom, or Greg, or anyone, in fact, yet he did it in the lowest way with Antonia. I easily could have compared because there were things that were great about my relationship with Tom and with Greg, but that’s just not something you bring to the table with someone else; yet he did.

After that, the evening was frosty, at best. In the end, we got in bed early. I suggested a DVD; Phil said he was tired and went straight to sleep while I sat in bed and did Sudoku puzzles, resenting him for being in my bed, in my home and in the space that’s reserved for the kids.

Yet again, he feels like a massive intrusion in my life, but this time it’s not all about me. This is his doing this time, and I’m not taking all the blame like I usually do.