Living it Arg

by James Argent

  We began to kiss.

  At first it was just a delicate touch on the lips but within a few seconds we were snogging passionately. My head was all over the place.

  Much as I love this girl, what’s going through her mind? I thought.

  Lydia was sending me mixed signals and I was totally confused. That night Lydia and I made love in her bedroom. The next morning I awoke assuming that because we’d made love we’d be able to patch things up, but Lydia still had other ideas.

  ‘It doesn’t change anything,’ she told me.

  I was devastated by the fact that Lydia didn’t want to be with me any more after four years. I spent the next few days at home in a state of shock. I had no idea what the future would hold and my emotions were in turmoil. Lydia and I decided to keep our break-up a secret from the media. We knew that if the press found out it would create a lot of interest and neither of us wanted to go through all the fuss. We faced a challenge keeping a lid on it because the press office at TOWIE had started to arrange interviews to publicise the new series. They had organised a big cover shoot with Fabulous magazine, which is distributed free with the Sun. Joey, Mario and I were all due to attend with several of the girls from the cast, including Lydia. I knew it would be a difficult assignment, but Lydia and I agreed to put a brave face on it and we decided to go along without informing anybody that we had split.

  Looking back, I think it was a mistake for me to have gone on the Fabulous shoot, because I ended up making a total fool of myself. The shoot took place out in the countryside and we all had to travel there by coach. I hardly spoke to anybody on the way, but when we arrived Lydia and I did a quick photo together. It felt horrible and awkward because we had to smile for the cameras and pretend that everything was OK. Deep down inside I was hurting a lot and, as the day wore on, I became angry and frustrated at having to put on a façade. When it came to shooting the cover image, I assumed that I would be part of the group, but the photographer had other ideas.

  ‘We’re going to try a line-up of the girls on their own,’ one the magazine staff explained.

  ‘What? You mean I’m not on the cover,’ I protested.

  ‘No, Arg, we don’t need you for the cover. We’re just going to use the girls and maybe try one or two with the other boys.’

  Call it ego if you like, but I had automatically assumed that the magazine would give me star billing. Now that Mark was no longer there, I’d convinced myself that I was the biggest star. It had never crossed my mind that I’d be used only on the inside pages. I sat there fuming. Then, to my horror, the photographer invited Mario to step in to join the line-up. Soon afterwards, Joey was asked to give it a go as well. I’m embarrassed to admit it now, but I was extremely offended and I started to act like a diva, waltzing around the studio in a huff. I assumed they wanted Mario and Joey because they both have very sculpted bodies, whereas I was looking very overweight.

  How dare they? I thought.

  When I asked them why they didn’t want me, they relented and asked me to do a cover shot, but just as I was about to pose they changed their minds and told me I wasn’t needed after all.

  When the magazine staff confirmed I wasn’t wanted for the cover I was furious and I reacted by throwing my toys out of the pram. I stormed off to my dressing room to collect my things. Then, without telling anybody, I walked out of the studios. I’d had enough and I decided to go home, even though I knew we still had more interviews to do. When I got outside I found myself in a field in the middle of nowhere and I had no idea how I was going to get home. I simply walked up the road until a car drove by. I stuck out my thumb like a hitchhiker. Fortunately, the car stopped and the woman driver recognised me.

  ‘Could you give me a lift to the nearest station, please?’ I asked.

  The woman agreed and I later caught a train. By now my mobile phone was in meltdown. The TOWIE press office rang me and demanded to know where I’d gone, but I refused to return to the shoot. I was in a blinkered fury. When I look back now and think about how I behaved, I feel very ashamed. It was extremely unprofessional and it still makes me cringe. I would never normally dream of walking out in a strop like that over something so trivial, but at the time I was hurting like hell over Lydia dumping me, and my emotions were all over the place.

  The powers that be at TOWIE were furious with me for embarrassing the show in front of the magazine. Afterwards, I received a phone call from my manager informing me that TOWIE had decided to ban me from attending the National Television Awards as a punishment. After the BAFTAs, the NTAs were the social highlight of the year, so I was gutted, especially as most of the cast would be attending via the red carpet.

  Mark could see I was hurting and, as usual, he had the perfect suggestion to lift my spirits.

  ‘It’s a mess and you need to get away from it all,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you come to Dubai with me? I’ve got to go there to do some filming, so all the accommodation’s already paid for up front. Everything’s sorted. All you need to do is pay for your flights.’

  Mark said he had a suite booked at the Atlantis, which is situated right at the heart of the manmade Palm area of Dubai. We were joined by our friend James Kenzie, from the pop-rap group Blazin’ Squad.

  ‘It’s exactly what you need right now,’ said Mark.

  The only complication was that Lydia’s twenty-first birthday was approaching on the following weekend. Even though we were no longer together, I still wanted to be around to wish her happy birthday, so I arranged my flights so that I would be back in the country by the weekend for her big day.

  Dubai turned out to be fantastic. It’s like a cross between Las Vegas and a paradise island. We spent the evenings going out to all the best nightclubs and it took my mind off my troubles back home. There were plenty of Brits out there, including lots of girls who recognised us from the TV. We attracted a fair bit of female attention and I admit that I chatted to several women during our nights out. I was on the rebound and I flirted with several girls because it felt good to have some female company. I’d been there a couple of nights when I received a text from Lydia. She’d brought her birthday party forward to midweek and was upset that I wasn’t going to be there.

  Maybe I should change my flights and go back early, I thought.

  Mark and Kenzie were aghast when I mentioned the idea.

  ‘Arg, you’re doing it again,’ warned Mark. ‘You’re still thinking with your heart, not your head, and you’re being weak. Don’t go rushing back.’

  Despite their warnings I couldn’t get the thought of Lydia’s party off my mind. In the end I caved in and rang my airline. I worked out a schedule that would get me back in the nick of time for the party, which I discovered from one of Lydia’s friends on Twitter was being held at a restaurant in Camden. I didn’t breathe a word to Lydia. I wanted it to be a surprise. When I finally made it to the restaurant the party was in full swing.

  Lydia was in shock.

  ‘Happy birthday, Lydia!’ I said.

  ‘James – what are you doing here!’ she exclaimed, as I gave her a big bouquet of flowers.

  At first she tried to play it cool but I could see that deep down it meant everything to her that I’d made the effort. There were so many friends and family present that it was a while before we had a chance to speak together alone.

  ‘I hate being single,’ she confided. ‘Did you see anyone else while you were in Dubai?’

  ‘No, Lydia,’ I answered. I failed to mention that I’d chatted up several women while I was out there.

  That evening we went to a club called Gilgamesh before sharing a taxi back to Lydia’s home and on the way she began to open up about her true feelings. She started to cry and she told me that she still loved me. I hugged her and held her close, and briefly it was as if all my dreams had come true. Lydia and I spent the night at her house, where we made love in her bedroom. It was the perfect end to my mad dash back to the UK and I fell asleep with her in my arms. I had my d
arling Lydia back.

  Or so I thought.

  Life can sometimes deal you some terribly harsh blows, and what happened next was almost beyond belief. As I look back, it still makes me feel sick inside. Lydia and I awoke the next morning and we were cuddled up together in bed when her phone rang. It was her manager, Kirsty, who explained that the press had contacted her regarding a negative story that they intended to publish about me. The Sunday Mirror was planning to run a piece that would allege that I’d behaved badly towards Lydia by flirting with girls while I’d been on holiday in Dubai. Lydia erupted into a boiling fury and threw me out of the house.

  ‘Get out!’ she screamed at me. ‘No more, that’s it.’

  The new series of TOWIE was due to start a few days after Lydia’s birthday but I had no enthusiasm. I filmed a number of scenes with Joey Essex and Diags, who were both an immense support to me while I was going through this low period. They could both see how upset I was and when my parents went away for a few days they came to stay with me in order to try to keep my spirits up.

  Meanwhile, somebody approached Lydia and told her that all the rumours about my being unfaithful were true. To this day, I don’t know who contacted her – Lydia just said that it was a friend we have in common. I think it only confirmed what she already knew in her heart to be true. I was still trying to deny it, but nobody believed me (it wasn’t until a long time afterwards that l finally admitted it on camera).

  When you have been with somebody in a relationship for so long it’s hard to make a clean break, so, even though we’d split up, we did spend one final night together, during which we slept with one another.

  It was on the day before Valentine’s Day and afterwards Lydia swore me to secrecy.

  I’d been planning to give Lydia a Valentine’s gift for some time and I’d already bought her a pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes just like the ones that Mr Big had bought for Carrie Bradshaw in Sex in the City. Lydia always said she saw herself as being like Carrie, and I was her Mr Big. The shoes cost £700 and I had to have them flown in especially from Germany. I’d previously bought her two pairs of Christian Louboutin and a pair from Charlotte Olympia, so I had an eye for good shoes.

  When I tried to give the shoes to Lydia at a TOWIE party she completely blanked me. I was very hurt. I couldn’t understand how she could be so cold towards me when we’d slept together only two days earlier.

  In the meantime, Lydia and I filmed a ‘clear-the-air’ scene in which we said our final goodbyes. The conversation ended with me breaking down in tears and weeping openly. I gave Lydia the shoes as a farewell gift, although that part was never shown on TV. What the viewers also weren’t aware of was that Lydia and I were later involved in a furious bust-up. It happened when she discovered I’d told Joey about the secret night we had spent together prior to Valentine’s Day.

  Lydia was furious. She called me up while she was driving in her car and started screaming at me down the phone, calling me every name under the sun. She was in a total rage and while she was on the line I heard her car screech to a halt outside my house. Lydia jumped out with the Manolo Blahnik shoes and she threw them down into the driveway.

  ‘You can have your f***ing shoes back now, I don’t want them,’ she shouted, before driving off.

  That was how our relationship finally ended for good, with a tearful farewell on television, followed by a pair of shoes being chucked back at me. It took me nearly a year to come to terms with the pain of our break-up. I was broken to pieces emotionally and for a long time I was very bitter and argumentative towards the people around me. At first I found it impossible to cope with the thought of life without Lydia. The pain that I felt inside ate away at me every day in the weeks and months that followed. Everything I had wanted out of life had been based on spending my future with her. I’d always assumed that we would one day settle down and start a family together. Now all I could see ahead of me was a big black void. When I’d met Lydia I had been an overweight twenty-year-old who’d never had a girlfriend and had very few prospects. She’d been there for me at every step of the way while my early singing career had developed and she had figured in all of my plans for the future. Despite all our ups and downs, it felt as if I’d shared every part of my life with her. Now it was all over and it had a huge impact on me. I hated getting up in the mornings and I couldn’t even see the point in putting on a clean shirt without being able to see Lydia. I was heartbroken.

  Slowly, with the love and support of my family and good friends such as Mark, Joey, Diags and Tom Pearce, I learned to live without her. I can talk about it now without getting angry or upset, although I am still full of sadness. I did cheat on Lydia and I was therefore the one in the wrong. I let my ego get the better of me and I will always regret that. I like to think I’m slightly more mature now and if I could wind the clock back and do things differently I would. At the time of writing this book, Lydia and I no longer talk to each other, which is a shame, although I regularly keep in touch with Debbie. I had been welcomed into Lydia’s family with open arms, so when we broke up I didn’t just lose my partner: it felt as if I’d lost part of my family as well. I sometimes read interviews with Lydia in magazines in which she is quoted as saying horrible things about me. It makes me think that she is still bitter and hurt – and they say there is a fine line between love and hate. I have never met anyone I loved like Lydia and part of me will always love her. I don’t think we’ll ever get back together, because so much has been said and done that things are irreparable – although anything can happen in Essex.

  15

  MY YO-YO DIETING AND SURVIVING THE LONDON MARATHON

  It’s no secret that my weight sometimes goes up and down like a yo-yo. The reason is that I just love food. I eat to celebrate when I am happy and I eat to comfort myself when I am feeling down. I never need an excuse to tuck into a hearty meal, and I admit that I’m very partial to junk food. I get a lot of stick about it on social networks such as Twitter and Facebook. I’ve had to get used to it over the years and I try to take it like water off a duck’s back. Twitter is a brilliant way of keeping in touch with TOWIE fans and for connecting with people (I was flattered when the R ‘n’ B star Chris Brown followed me after I sent out a tweet about him), but the flipside is that it is a cruel platform for cyber-bullies. It’s become a bit of a pantomime because, whatever you tweet, you can always expect tons of abuse back. Some people seem to find it funny to let rip at anyone they’ve seen on the telly, but some of the comments can be hurtful. The abuse I get is nearly always about my weight. People tweet messages like, ‘You fat bastard’, or ‘You fat piece of shit, what have you eaten today?’

  Charming!

  I do my best to laugh it off because I know that it goes with the territory, but it’s not exactly great for your self-esteem. Mostly it doesn’t bother me because I am naturally an upbeat person with a bubbly outlook. If people want to call me a fat bastard it’s up to them (I suppose it’s just their way of having a joke). My weight also attracts a lot of attention from the media and the papers have been known to write headlines such as IT’S LARGE ARG! or THE TUBBY CROONER.

  Most of it is good natured and I am happy to play along, but there have been times when it has hit my confidence. It can make me feel a little low at times. The heaviest I have been is around 19½ stone, which sounds a hell of a lot. However, because I’m 6 foot 2 inches tall, I carry it better than I would if I were shorter. I am also lucky because the last place that I tend to gain weight is around my face. In photos I can get away with it because my facial features stay relatively slim. It’s my thighs, my legs, my love handles and my man boobs that I struggle with!

  My biggest issue when it comes to my weight is that I have a huge appetite. I follow in the footsteps of my Granddad Seamus in that respect, because he was a big man who enjoyed eating large meals. Seamus was a wonderful man who could demolish a mountain of food and come back for more – and I am the same.

  My ideal brea
kfast would be a sizzling hot bacon sandwich or a fry-up consisting of eggs, bacon, sausages, baked beans – you name it. A few hours later I will happily follow up by eating a pizza or a burger for lunch, or even with a trip to Chicken Cottage (my favourite local takeaway). Dinner could be an Indian or a Chinese meal or pie and mash. I have been known to binge on food and I can keep eating pizza even when it feels like I am completely full.

  You get the picture.

  My mum likes to encourage me to eat healthily and occasionally she will take me to task about it.

  ‘You’ve got to look after yourself, James,’ she said to me recently. ‘All that junk food’s not good for you.’

  ‘I know, Mum. You’re right, but it’s not easy.’

  ‘Well I’m going to hide all the chocolate and crisps if you don’t cut down,’ she warned.

  Unfortunately, most of the foods that I like cause me to pile on the pounds. I tend to find myself in a constant cycle of putting on weight, followed by periods when I eat healthily in an attempt to get slim.

  During the times when I am dieting I can be very meticulous about what I eat. Breakfast might be smoked salmon and scrambled eggs with no toast or bread; lunch could be grilled chicken and salad followed by an evening meal of chicken, spinach and broccoli with no potatoes. The result is that my weight is constantly going up and down. There are times when I’ve managed to get down to around 15 stone and I feel great and people tell me that I look good.

  The strange thing is that, as I have said previously, I wasn’t a fat child. My mum has got albums of photos of me that show a happy-looking boy with a normal frame.

  ‘James, you were actually quite a wiry child,’ my mum tells me.

  It was towards the end of secondary school that I started to get chubby. I think that was partly due to the fact that I was not very fit. I put all my efforts into amateur dramatics and did very little sport. My asthma initially stopped me from being great at football, so, apart from the odd game of tennis, I didn’t get much exercise. To this day I still hate going to the gym and I will use any excuse to get out of it.