The Cousin Friend arrived with very puffy eyes. Given my current state of slipping in and out of love with my phantom ex, I do have a soft spot for puffy-eyed girls whose hearts are in tatters because of geeky ex-boyfriends who make it their sole mission to continue to hurt the people they supposedly once loved. She was a screaming mess. And I'm not sure Kate & William's nuptials made her feel any better.
The Pant: What's wrong The Cousin Friend? Has that fucker been in contact with you again?
(It has taken me a while to learn this, but contact is no good for anybody post break up. It does not aid in the moving on. Contact should be reserved for when The Ex decides he's actually not a giant vagina, and would like to apologise like a man. You know, accept that they were wrong and beg for their lovely girlfriends back. I am led to believe by a) William and Kate, b) most romantic comedies and c) an irritatingly large number of successful marriages that this can, in real life, happen.)
The Cousin Friend: Not directly, no.
(Ah, the indirect contact. It's my worst kind. The kind where The Ex tells someone very close to The Broken Hearted One something in the full knowledge that said news will, lickity-split, make it back to The Broken Hearted One.)
The Pant: Oh crap. What did he say and to whom did he say it? (I actually speak like that - I find ending sentences on prepositions effing unrefined.)
TCF: (choking on her own tears) My brother. He told my brother that he has random sex with random
Well, at this point, I was unable to suppress the violent hilarity that manifested in tear-streaming guffaws.
TP: You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me? That is the funniest thing I've ever heard. The Ex? Getting laid? More than once in a year? I can't. Stop. Please. Why do you look so sad after such a hilarious joke?
TCF: It's not a joke. That's what I was told.
TP: Now I'm sniffing out a real problem. And that problem lies between your earballs. You actually believe this?
TCF: Why would he say it if it wasn't true?
Now I'm not a master on the mind of the man. But I was well prepared to offer my two cents worth.
TP: Alright. Desperate dickheads call for desperate measures. Gin or wine?
TCF: Gin, please.
TP: And that, my friend, is the wrong answer. Gin is reserved for truly sad situations. Like P.S. I Love You or when the wine runs out or when a pet dies. Not for a total wankstick who is trying to break your heart from afar.
After the wine was poured, we relocated to, what I like to call, The Bitching Boudoir. I am wont to sit on the steps leading out into my garden, with cushions under bum and candles. I find one thinks more clearly in this setting. And it usually ends in a Stair Villus. The greatest thing.
TP: Okay. Now tell me why you think it's true.
TCF: Because why else would he say it?
And then I detailed every possible answer to her query:
1) Because he is a giant cocksucker and the only way he can get at you, after hearing that your life is moving along at quite a pleasant pace, is by making up ridiculous stories that are (definitely) not true.
2) Because he is such a turd that one 40-year old divorcee in a Stormers rugby jersey whose face was planted in a platter of over-fried pub snacks gave him the eye. Well, he thought is was 'the eye'. It wasn't. She was just coming out of her coma and perusing her surroundings. And considering she'd caught sight of him, she figured she was in hell.
3) Because, since your departure from his life, he has become nothing but a lonely bar fly who gets so hammered ON HIS OWN that he is existing entirely in his own reality in which he thinks (but it isn't really true) that he's some kind of a middle-aged stud muffin.
4) And if it is true. Why does he want to share that with anyone, let alone a member of your family? It reeks of stupidity. "Hey, everyone, look at me. I've got crabs and the drop!" Can someone please tell me what is remotely attractive about a walking VD? Or, even worse still, "I have absolutely no respect for your sister and so I thought I'd let her own family members know that I prefer shagging with payment than being with someone, of your kind, who really cared about me."
5) Because he wants to hurt you.
And it's number five, I dont' really get. Hasn't he hurt her enough? It's almost as though all the weight loss, and the depleted reserves of self-esteem was not enough of a high for the prick. Was it not enough that he dashed all her dreams - you know, the shattered ones of white frothy dresses and french chantilly lace of which Kate and William only served to remind her further? Was it not enough that he didn't even have enough guts to talk to her?
And so, today's lesson (because literature teaches us things) is that some men just like to be cocks. Except they hide behind this sensitive persona that pretends to love, and care, and want what's best for one. But some men are liars. I'd personally appreciate it if all those men could all go take a group skinny-dip in a giant vat of nuclear waste.
So to you, pal, who thought that your indirect contact was going to earn you a call, or an email or an sms, I have only this to say: go pick a hand. Oh, wait. You're probably ambidextrous by now.