Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum

The Great Unwashed.



That should warn you about the content of this post, lol.

Had a night out last night. That is rare. Nothing spectacular. Not at all. Just going to some friends’ house to watch a game and have a red wine or two.

‘Cept there was someone there I didn’t expect. Who is not a good drinker. Who I have clashed with in the past. Who I thought I had mended things with. Who is normally fine.

But wasn’t.

Oh boy. Now, this is going to sound like the synopsis of Mean Girls. But we are supposed to be grownups.

Background. Roger’s oldest-friend-in-the-world is a lovely man called John. Now John may be lovely, but as time has gone by, we can see how ineffectual he is. He is so laid back he is horizontal. He eats too much and drinks too much, but is the sweetest guy. He wound up his business and retired a few years ago – not even 50 – and hasn’t really DONE anything with the extra time. He was married to a woman named, “Priscilla,” and she was a bit of a ho-bag and cheated on him. More than once. In less than seven years of marriage. He never knew until Mr Sparkly-Pants was “the One” (her business partner, and best friend’s husband – yep) and she left him, and he left his wife, and they set up house together – two kids each – and lived happily ever after.

Until they didn’t.

And Mr Sparkly-Pants fell for someone else thirteen years later. You know how it goes. (But she was never holier-than-thou, either, so….whatevs…)

Anyway, back to last night. John immediately started seeing HIS BROTHER’S EX – I mean, immediately. She came ’round to comfort him with pizza and vodka, and stayed the night – with a few other friends – the night Priscilla’s whoring was discovered and left him. I know, I was there. Aghast. With a small baby. Horrified. Heartsick. John and this woman-not-Priscilla were joined at the hip from then on. Now, I know people are gonna think, “hang on a minute here, IMMEDIATELY??? They were already having an affair.”

Nope. Not even. But John-the-lovely is weak. He has always had a girlfriend. His entire life. He came out of the birth canal and grabbed hold of the closest girl-baby’s hand.

Anyway, long story short, his brother’s ex eventually became second Mrs John. We shall name her Lucretia. Lucretia had cheated on her first husband, but he never knew, she left him, not for the OM, but because she realised she was a skanky ho-bag and shouldn’t be married to him. Lucretia was desperate for a baby. Problem. Her ex’s brother, John (stay with the story here guys) who she had shacked up with, had had a vasectomy. Fact. Known to all. He had his two, and in his 30s, got the snip. He wanted no more. Lucretia decided he did indeed want more children. And of course, Mr I-Am-So-Strong, got a reversal. About five years after the original procedure. They got preggers, miscarried sadly, but very-soon-later had a little boy. Then the scar tissue built up around the re-connection zone, and there were no more bubbas to be had. But Lucretia needed more babies. So they did IVF seven times, with epididymal sperm – yes, the sperm you harvest by inserting a large needle into the testes to draw them out, bypassing the vasectomy ten car pile-up. They had a little girl, Betty. Everyone is happy.

But back the truck up a bit. BEFORE Betty showed up, Lucretia used to go out and get a bit tipsy and tell everyone how terribly unfair it was that she couldn’t have more children BECAUSE John had a bitch first wife who made him get a vasectomy. And his first children were so HARD to step parent. BULLSHIT! And she knows it, and so does everyone else. Firstly, those first children – much to their mother’s credit – had totally accepted Lucretia and all her idiocyncrasies (read, she could be a nasty bitch to them back then.) He had ACTUALLY had a vasectomy against first Mrs John’s wishes, because he didn’t really like children very much, and it was all a bit hard, nappies, and all of that. They cut into your drinking and general good times. One night – about the seventieth – she and I were at a girls’ night out, and she started up on this theme. People left the room. Other people shuffled to the sides. Yet other rolled their eyes. But good old Muggins here, when she had me up against a wall, well, I said, “hey, Lucretia, I know it is a bit sad for you, BUT YOU PICKED HIM. You knew he was incapable of siring your children, and you picked him anyway. Be happy you have a man who adores you no matter what.”

Oh dear.

That was it. She started spitting in my face, and screaming at me. I didn’t react well. I bit back. It was ugly. Ugly in a way I had never been so humiliated in public before. But I was sick of her whining. And I had enough Dutch courage to call her out.


She has never forgotten this, obviously. I talked with her about it some time later (hey, our guys were BFFs, she is normally a pretty caring person, a bit psycho, I’ll admit, but a doting mother, a much nicer stepmum now, and a generous person.) I thought we had buried the hatchet.


Hell no.

She set me up one more time, and I developed a “Lucretia Management Plan” – the first and only I have ever implemented in my time on the planet in dealing with a “friend.” If she is in a room, and I am there, I do not drink alcohol, and I make sure I am ever moving, and never get cornered with her for more than five minutes (I actually time it!) This plan has worked quite well for many years – about ten. Once, at a friend’s house, Lucretia had a glass of wine too many (I was abstaining, as per the LMP) and she turned and tore into me. I kept backing away, we did this merry dance around my friend’s island bench, all the while watched by Roger and John. John managed to lasso her and depart, meanwhile, I KNOW – and so did Roger, who witnessed the whole fiasco – that I did nothing to bait her. She was furious at the host – a mutual friend who had called her out on some nasty behaviour (God, I have/had GREAT friends, right?) – and they had some words, when Lucretia turned on me! I was gobsmacked. And as I implemented the LMP, she kept at me like a dog with a bone. I am not usually one to back down, or say it anything other than what it was – but for the sake of the social situation – and adhering to the self-imposed rules of the LMP – I was very calming, I spoke in low tones, and I was as agreeable as possible.

Now, Lucretia has moderated her drinking, a lot. And has been a much nicer person, and I believe it has saved her marriage, as John was in despair about her. But too weak to divorce her. He admitted to us that a second divorce would totally fuck him up.

But last night – I didn’t know she would be there – she was well oiled before I even arrived. It was so weird. She got pretty up in my face early on. This has not happened for nearly ten years. I was really taken aback.

As the night wore on, it became glaringly obvious that she had some kind of monkey on her back. I couldn’t work out what had pushed her buttons – this is a girl who is pretty damn tied up with her 15 year old son’s life and her 10 year old daughter’s. I mean, she sticks to them and their exploits like shit to a blanket!

I soon found out what it must have been. I had had a particularly difficult day at uni last week, and I posted “bad day in anthropology today” – and a Far Side cartoon on Facebook. D’oh!

Mrs First John, who I have actually kept in touch with (I know, I know, but she lives in another country, and is not all bad) and who is doing her Masters in Anthropology, offered some help with my theoretical dilemma. Lovely, I thought, and we had a two reply exchange on the public forum of Facebook, about some theory. Then we took it private, and she sent me some links/help. Of course no one knew about the private stuff, but those two replies totally got Lucretia’s back up. Now, to explain, Lucretia and Priscilla are fine with each other. Lucretia is the stepmother of Priscilla’s two kids, and has had the younger one live with them since he was 13. It isn’t like it is taboo, or anything, and Lucretia and I have previously discussed that I have contact with Priscilla, but only extremely sporadically. She was fine with that, it isn’t a tender situation.

But it obviously is, when you discuss academic material (albeit, there was a little jargon, I do admit that, but it was ONE REPLY) that made Lucretia feel …. like a pleb, a philistine. She, who has a good business degree, and runs her own consultancy company, said, “I had no idea what you two intelligentsia were on about.” Cough, cough, splutter, splutter! I am SO OBVIOUSLY NOT that – and WTF??? Hell, I was stating that I was having a conceptual drama!

So, after several hours of this weird shit, I got it. I had fucked up. I had talked to Mrs First John, in a public space, about something academic. Fuck me!

And then it got more personal.

And weirder.

Then, once I clicked in my brain (that old hamster was doing overtime, I tell ya) she got into some other crap. Like telling me that I was bad because I didn’t think family was the ONLY thing in the world worth anything. I gently deflected, and said, “it’s really important, but it isn’t everything, and my kids are a lot older than yours, I am contemplating/relishing the empty nest, and you are still fully in the parenting years. I lost myself there for a few decades in it, and I’m slowly coming out the other side.”

Oh dear.

Red rag. Meet bull.

Apparently I am now a bad mother, who doesn’t care, who never cared because I had children I “didn’t want” and she had to work so hard to get hers.

Yep. Apparently that classifies your style of parenthood. Planning, or not. I just sat there, open-mouthed, the poor hostess (OMG, I’m still so embarrassed) beside me trying to mediate (mediate what, I was not taking the bait, but, she could feel the tension – a good mum, a chemistry-teacher-cum-careers-adviser-who-wants-a-life-after-kids.)

Then this, and I swear, I said NOTHING about affairs, heartbreak, “my journey” post affair, “well, YOU PICKED HIM!”

Holy fuck. Holy fuckity fuck fuck fuck. I mean What The Actual Fuck?!

I didn’t get it. It wasn’t until later that night, driving home (this all happened kind of on the down low, but Roger sensed something had happened) I related the synopsis of the evening. He said, “well, she got you there, that is back to the old, ‘well, you picked him’ you said to her all those years ago.”

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

He’s right. Bahahahahahahaha! She was actually trying to get me with my own words. The stupid difference is that she picked a guy who didn’t want more kids, AND SHE KNEW THAT – and I picked a guy who would eventually cheat on me – and there were NO warning signs.

Face. Meet. Palm.

That is all folks!


25 thoughts on “The Great Unwashed.

  1. Well, you ARE one of those elitist intelligentsia, you know… only snobbish people like yourself could possibly glean the true meaning of a phrase so complex as “Well, you picked him!”

    I’m wondering if she’s just scatterbrained in general and all those fights were manufactured just to possibly give her an opportunity to say it back to you… but she didn’t (and obviously, still doesn’t lol) know how. ?? haha

    • Insist, she is the only person I have EVER had that I have had to formulate a plan so I can deal with them! And yeah. Point taken, so glad I have spent all this time and effort to get a humanities degree so I can interpret such highbrow shit ;-)!

  2. She is one of the Heathers and you are Winona and she just can’t stand it.

    So sad that her focus is skimming the slime pond and not growing up.

    I have no patience for people like that. I have dropped friends like her because I just can’t stomach them.

    You can always make her a subject of your next research paper…The Heather Syndrome.

    • Oh, she is SO a Heather, tempted. Me neither. As I said, had I known she would be there, I wouldn’t have gone. Be a pretty damn boring paper, right?! This woman drones on and on. And on. And on about her kids. Her inlaws and Roger call her Mrs Repeater. She is appalling.

  3. Darn, I would have liked to have been there for those encounters.

  4. First off, the woman has no class. You do not put your hostess in an embarrassing situation. If she had issues with you she should have called you later. Second, the sounds like an attention whore.

    • She is both an attention whore. And a whore. Fucking her client while married. Gave another married guy a BJ – these are just two facts I know about this most uninteresting and deeply unpleasant person.

      She gets loud, and shrill. John asked her six times (not knowing the content of the shrill conversation) to shush down. Makes me squirm to know I was in her icky presence.

  5. Some bitches need to get slapped LOL

  6. Sorry she was there at what I’m sure was otherwise a cool party. Why do people like this have to inhabit our world? That’s why I don’t socialize anymore, ha, just kidding. But seriously…

    • Well, I’m not kidding, Kat! I don’t socialise because of this crap! And it was not pleasant. She totally ruined otherwise lovely company and something that should have been very relaxing. I’m still so embarrassed for my friend, the hostess. Was not nice.

      • Yeah, I totally get it. Sometimes socializing is not worth the effort. Until last year, we used to have an Independence Day party at our house. From our house, we have a view of fireworks from the amusement park across the river. It’s a large display and something we liked to share with people over food, drink, laughter, you know.. The first few years we lived in this house the party was huge. We eventually, over 15 years, dwindled it down to just close friends and family. Last year I couldn’t do it, at all. No laughter in me to share. I made food for 30 of Sammy’s friends and watched a bunch of 20 year olds have a blast… until I was relegated to my room, ha (best room for viewing the fireworks anyway). A friend who is normally at our house decided to go to a rather large party at someone else’s house last year. She did nothing but complain about the party afterwards, I mean bitterly complain, about the food, the people, the gossip, etc… I just don’t have the patience for that anymore (not that I ever really did, but now, just don’t talk to me). I don’t care. This year, we decided not to have a party again… my friend made a point of telling me they would not be able to make it to our party (no such party existed, wasn’t asked because we weren’t planning a party) because the other party was so much fun last year and they were really in the mood to socialize. WTF? Does she think I have memory loss, does she have memory loss??? Whatever. She probably thought I was having the party without her. People are weirdly competitive and I have no patience for it anymore.

      • Aaah. The Dance of the Narcissist. I wanna play, so whoever wants to play with me NOW is totally cool/the bomb/my new BFF. Lol. So over that crap. Tempted has it nailed. I am Winona. (I always have been, but the longer I’m here….. :-).)

        Glad the kids had fun. Sounds enjoyable in a different way, but enjoyable nonetheless x

  7. Not your circus, not your monkeys. Pretty sure you looked awesome and she looks like a full on fool. You are bangarang. (Like off the movie “Hook”… Stay classy.

    • Yep. I’m sure you are correct, Alex. And really, I am fine with my part. But it was unpleasant and I don’t like unpleasant, weirdly, lol! At the end of the day, other people’s opinions matter bugger all. Just frustrates me to have to manage a grown 46 year old woman’s bullshit. Grow the fuck up! My 16 year old daughter has more sense and less dramatic “friends.” Swipe whichever-way-is-dismissive, I say 🙂

  8. Did you have one of those mind movies where you grab her by the back of the head and run her into the fridge? Might be an ACTUAL option next time!

  9. OMG, this is such a crazy post, P! SWxo

    • I know, right? She is crazy making. And I kept thinking, “how old are we???” So weird, SW. You see why I wrote a lot (most) of these small town wankers off after their blame the victim mindset? I walked away, but bloody hell!

  10. I’m not sure if I understood the whole story correctly, so please forgive me if I’m off the mark, but are you saying that this woman basically waited years just to have the chance to say “well you picked him!” back at you?! If so then she is just the most emotionally-stunted baby-woman on the planet!! This reminds me of those imaginary arguments I have with people in the shower, I think of all the things I SHOULD have said to all the people who have ever hurt me (I’m much more of a walk-away-and-remain-dignified kind of person, which I know is better in the long run, but we all have those times where we wished we had come back with a zinger!) But the difference is that my little imaginary arguments remain in the shower, I would never dream of digging up an argument from the past just so I could debut a better comeback! You’re so right, this is child’s play, utter high school point-scoring, grudge-holding nonsense. Glad you kept your cool Paula, you are an inspiration and a real class act! Xx

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