Claire
Claire was a pal of my best mate's missus. Claire and I had been seeing each other for a few months. Claire was something of a headstrong and uncompromising lass. Claire and I weren't really going anywhere.

Anyway, she announces that she wants to go on hols with her friends for a week. I'm not the jealous type so it's "okay, have a nice time".

No postcard, no telephone call and no dodgy Greek souvenir later Claire returns and we spend a highly unsatisfactory day together. Then she decides we need "a talk". At this point we're in the car and she's telling me stuff like "I needed a week break from you" and "What is it with you!?" not to mention "Why aren't you fighting to save this relationship". Astute observers might notice the theme whereby every wrongdoing on my part is rubbed in my face and indeed it was apparent that her proportion of responsibility for any relationship issues amounted to 0.001%.

The character assasination I received lasted twenty minutes of relentless criticism and bile. At the end of it I was too exhausted to stop the car in the middle of nowhere and order her out of it. So I just drove her home and left it at that.

Then my mate slips that Claire had shagged two Greek barmen while away on holiday (oddly, this little indiscretion did was not mentioned in favour of blaming me for absolutely fucking everything). Three weeks later she calls me "childish" because I refused to speak to her when we bumped into each other on a night out.

Now, before you do as I did then and judge Claire harshly for her Blair-esque levels of bare-arsed arrogance the karma fairy stepped in and evened up the odds.

Claire pissed off for a year spent travelling in Oz so I avoided any unfortunate "having to be cordial with the ex" situations. During this time I developed a gym addiction and landed a plush new job. Fast forward a year when Claire appears suddenly amidst a night out sporting a faux Oz accent.

"Gah-die" she said

"How are you keeping?" I asked

"Thiz iz Styve" she introduced her new b/f

Oh my God... The humiliation... Steve was oddly reminiscent of "Donk" from Crocodile Dundee. He wore a battered brown leather jacket circa 1989 and was something of a salad dodger. I'm not terribly vain but in my head I was thinking "Him.... Me....?" trying to find any logical explaination as to how I explain that my ex who has supposedly moved on to better things drags along a neanderthal with personal hygiene issues. How could I possibly be ranked below him on a desirability scale?

Karma fairy struck gold once again as Donk turned out to be a workshy gambler. She quickly got pregnant and was reduced to raising a child single handed while Donk spent what little money he earned on horses and greyhounds.

She's still with him, too stubborn to turn her back on her lot. Donk, for all his faults has done something I never did. Spunked a fortune on a greyhound and named it after her...
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 20 Apr 2007, 18:30, Reply)