That Bastard, Act I, scene I

That bastard. That shitty fecking bastard; I let him get away with anything everything and all.

He was boinking his ex. His best friend’s girl. I found the evidence that he didn’t even make an attempt to hide. He lied and he lied. I know he did. All those times he was late from work, all those times he was playing ball….

It’s over, I moved out. I would have kicked him out but he’s the one who wanted to live there, not me so much.

If only it were anyone but Rebecca. Why did it have to be Rebecca? The skank, whore sleazey slut queen of them all. His ex. Bigger chested, naughtier. Legs like a stripper’s, not my chicken legs. I know why he likes her. Men are all alike.

I’m moved out, I’m living on the street. I refuse to be a victim I’m gonna live in my car and the last thing I need is to come crawling begging to some one like Mademoiselle D who will only cluck and say “told ya so” (in French) and … and … I couldn’t bear it.

Those lurkers* who remember from my UMKC blog, Mademoiselle D was my room mate, who is perfect, beautiful, brilliant and successful. A law degree. Working on a medical degree. D’s sister, “Maggie’s” sister-in-law. Legs up to there. Well, to hell with her. I will not ask; I will not give her the satisfaction. I am glad that I got all of my CDs and my clothes. And the Glenlivet. (It’s mine. What’s left of it.)

Here I am at Muddy’s and I’m on the Wi-Fi. Sigh. Fucking fucking FUCKED over again.

*what lurkers? who am I kidding? no one reads this but me.