Alice: The Epilogue
I posted the following story earlier today (WARNING: it's exceptionally long) :
www.b3ta.com/questions/spoiltbrats/post270185

Following a few requests (okay, one request) to hear how it ended, here is The Epilogue, or How I Finally Lost My Rag with the Selfish Bitch

_{And I apologise again for the length of this one}

To fill in the first part, (and spare you reading it) this follows my break-up with my first serious girlfriend, after about 18 months over which she progressively made me more and more miserable. Long story short, she was a rich bitch, a snob, and a pathological bully. (I was also severely lacking in the spinal department at the time.)

So, after a telephone break-up, we agree to "remain friends." I don't know why I thought this was a good idea, though at the time I didn't realise how much she was taking advantage of my good nature. I also felt a bit sorry for her because she didn't have any real friends.

In hindsight, it's no wonder she didn't have any friends, apart from the vacuous Chelsea bitches with whom she was now sharing a flat.

A few days after the break-up, I get a phone call from her - just clocking in, really: how am I doing, etc.

Then there's another call the following day. And the day after that. And again, and again, and again. Until eventually we agree to meet for coffee.

Fair enough, I've always thought the reconciliatory meeting is "the decent thing to do." And it's a civilised affair. No arguments, no hissy fits - hell, if she wasn't so obsequious she could almost be pleasant company.

But then there are more meetings. Phone calls nearly every day. To all my friends, it's becoming apparent that the bitch is determined to cling on to me as some sort of puppet and try and hijack my social life so that she can have some real friends.

I, of course, don't realise this. No, I follow blindly until she drops Bombshell No.1
Bombshell No.1: There's a bloke on her course who she fancies. God knows why, he's some flabby, ginger public-school git. Worse, he has a girlfriend. She's met up with him for coffee already and been assured that the poor girlfriend is nothing more than "a minor consideration."

Alice decides to seek advice. From me, her ex. She wants to know whether it's worth trying to pursue a relationship with this fat cunt who is openly admitting that he's happy to cheat on his girlfriend.

Hmmm...not difficult, is it?

So WHY did the stupid bitch decide that actually, it would be a good idea to positively fall into bed with this revolting oik? What was the point in even asking for my advice when you were planning to draw your beef curtains either way?

And why, WHY, did you then come crying to me when the inevitable happened? You knew I had an exam the following morning - or at least, I'd mentioned it when you called me AGAIN on that morning, but perhaps it was presumptuous of me to assume you actually listened to what I was saying. And yet still you called me the night before an exam and told me that you'd had sex with another man. You called because you were upset that he wasn't going to leave his girlfriend for you (what did you fucking expect?) - how the fuck do you think this made me feel?

So, no sleep for me that night. Just a long night spent lying in bed getting angry, jealous and frustrated and going on the following morning to cock up a plasma physics exam on which I'd previously expected to do quite well. Thanks a fucking bundle.

Bombshell No.2 doesn't get dropped until a lot later. So by this time I've just about got over the incident with the fat ginger cunt and accepted that she is going to be loitering round expensive bars with her Chelsea-bitch friends and chatting to rich, greasy, revolting city-boy types who are just looking for a trophy shag.

I, in the meantime, have seemingly no prospect of finding a new ladyfriend. (Partly because I've got her calling me every day and asking how my sex life is progressing. Well, it isn't. I'm still going to be available to be your fucking lapdog. Happy?)

So she comes out with a few of us to a favourite haunt of mine - the blues bar just off Regent Street. The Oscillating Gibbon was there in fact. I think all of us were a little shocked when she started talking to a random stranger and snogged him twenty minutes later, barely six feet in front of me.

And yet the self-centred cow couldn't understand why I was so angry. Oh, don't worry love, I'm just the jealous ex-boyfriend who's had to watch you porking a complete stranger. Fucking hell.

Somehow...fuck know how...I almost forgave her. But then she dropped Bombshell No.3.

I think even she realised she'd gone too far this time. She fucked a good friend of mine.

In fact, she clearly knew she'd gone too far, because she asked that we meet in a heavily wooded area of Putney Heath. The loathsome little coward had obviously anticipated that she was going to be shouted at.

Now I don't hold anything against said friend, because he had no idea that this bitch was milking me of my better nature. But she fucking knew better. What the fuck did she expect to achieve by this?

And that's why I stopped speaking to her. Finally, it got through to me that this bitch only had her own interests at heart and was just going to fuck whatever she liked the look of, regardless of how it made her 'friends' feel.

Time for a happy ending, I think. After the last blazing row with the Uber-Bitch, things slowly picked up. Due to feeling like utter crap, I ended up in a couple of relationships with girls who were perfectly nice, but with whom I was completely incompatible, and to whom I feel I might have been a bit of a twat on occasions.

But in the meantime, partly through the Bearded Whumpus, I was socialising a lot more with Ms Crow. She became a really good friend very quickly, and, a little while after the second of the aforementioned relationships fell apart, I realised I'd fallen in love with her. And I've been so much happier ever since.

As for the Uber-bitch, last thing I heard, she'd fucked off to Singapore and got a banking job. As long as she's on the other side of the world and no longer trying to contact me then that'll do just fine. I only hope she's never found anybody who'll treat her as well as I tried to, and she'll come to regret being such a bitch. But somehow I doubt it. Oh well.

Apologies for going on and on and fucking on, but it's been surprisingly cathartic. Thank you all for your patience.
(LongJohnBaldry, Mon 13 Oct 2008, 23:29, 6 replies)

Advice
I'm going to make my two teenage lads read your two posts so they know what to look out for and know to drop such girls as soon as it looks ropey.

I've already told them that if a girlfriend rebukes them for something they're perfectly entitled to do, they've to bail out before it gets too far.

Which gives me an idea for a QOTW suggestion...
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Tue 14 Oct 2008, 1:18, closed)

If she ever does contact you,
remember to let the missus deal with it. It's her job, and her pleasure.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Tue 14 Oct 2008, 7:33, closed)

We all need to be bitter and twisted for a while.
It's part of the healing process.

Just let go now and enjoy your life with the wonderful Mrs Crow.
( girlinthehole, Tue 14 Oct 2008, 8:44, closed)

As I said to her in the blues bar that night,
"it's not necessarily what you do, it's how you do it. And the way you did it was bang out of line. If you want to meet guys in bars, in front of your ex is neither the time nor the place."

....she didn't understand what I meant. But I guess she could barely see who was talking, me being further away than the end of her nose and all.
(The Oscillating Gibbon is eating curried squid, Tue 14 Oct 2008, 10:20, closed)

Man
that must have been hard,

I went off the rails by running into an ex in a club with her new bloke by coincidence (I was drunk and acted like a tit)

I applaud your restraint and a well told tale!
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Tue 14 Oct 2008, 11:33, closed)

You've all been very kind
I initially set out to write these in the hope they might be an entertaining yarn, but actually the process of splurging my bitterness liberally over this small region of interweb proved to be surprisingly cathartic - you know that warm feeling of satisfied tiredness you get when you've finally let something go?

Thank you all. Truly QotW am teh fluffiest subsection of teh interweb.
(LongJohnBaldry, Wed 15 Oct 2008, 13:50, closed)