“What do you mean, he’s been seeing Sharon?” shrieked my sister. Carla, my trusted friend since primary school, had arrived at my parent’s house like a tornado bringing along with her, news that had turned my world upside down.
All I could bring myself to numbly ask was “how long”? My childhood sweetheart, Simon whom I was supposed to be marrying in just over a week’s time, had been enjoying cosy romantic nights out with one of my other best friends, Sharon, whilst I had been stacking shelves in the local supermarket to pay for the Turkish honeymoon we had booked – well every little helps.
“Our Brad, has seen them in the Tangiers getting very cosy over a Tikka Masala on five-a-side nights, as he apparently dropped out of the team a couple months’ ago”. Now, that was too damn much that he was taking her to our place; the local Indian and on nights when I had been slaving away unpacking tins of baked beans. Not to mention that his tired alibi, brought a whole new meaning to the phrase “playing away”.
“His Facebook profile says he’s single as well and she’s been writing on his wall” she said; adding insult to injury. Who reads Facebook; well the whole world apparently, apart from night shift supermarket replenishment assistants.
Almost immediately after Carla had lobbed that particular grenade into our midst, my Dad disappeared to his allotment, my sister was screeching non-stop expletives that would have shamed a hairy East End Docker and my mother went to make tea. Although I could sense that she too wasn’t happy as she banged and huffed around the kitchen.
By the time the tea arrived, my sister and Carla had discussed in great detail, different ways in which they would murder Simon and dispose of the body. My mother’s only thin-lipped retort was “I’ve already paid for that barrel of sherry and I don’t think they’ll take it back”, referring to the reception drinks for our forthcoming wedding breakfast.
Spurred on by Carla, I texted Simon and asked him to call round after work. Never before had the phrase “live by the text, die by the text” seemed so appropriate. As the minutes ticked by, we drank enough tea for England and my sister and Carla continued with the theme of dispatching my fiancée in various grim and twisted methods. I had always considered myself a pacifist; however, even I was considering the castration with a blunt instrument option resulting in matching earrings and pendant.
Eventually, Simon arrived somewhat perplexed by my abrupt text and even more so when my sister and Carla gave him the evil eye; you know the look we women have perfected over the years that indicates impending trouble. Reluctantly, they left us alone in my mum’s pristine lounge usually reserved for special visitors; although I had no doubt that they were pressed up against the door trying to eavesdrop.
As the door slammed shut, I whispered just one word “Sharon?”
“Look love, I was going to tell you…”and when exactly I thought to myself, at the wedding reception, whilst I was in labour with our child or at the graduation of our first-born.
“It didn’t mean anything to me, you were working all the time…..” he stuttered as he caught my icy glare. “Spending time with Sharon was like being close to you
As he whined on, it was then I realised what a despicable deceitful selfish coward he truly was.
“We can put this behind us, we can be happy” he persisted “after all, we have our wedding to look forward to”. At that point I realised that it was true what they said about Devonians – thick in the arm and thick in the head!
With a big sigh and whilst simultaneously trying to restrain myself from bitch slapping him sideways of stupid; I began to tell him exactly why I wasn’t going to be marrying him any time soon.
“You’ll regret this; Sharon said you weren’t good enough for me” he shouted at me as I banged the front door behind him.
After he’d left, I stood on the patio with Carla whilst she smoked a sneaky B&H, as my mum wouldn’t tolerate smoking in the house. Inhaling deeply she said “I never liked him you know; he had no sense of direction even as a kid. Well, let’s be honest, would you want to be spending the rest of your life with a man who needed a bloody Sat Nav to find your erogenous zones?”
Well, when you put it like that!