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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

On Monday night I experienced one of those relationship milestones, one of those things that we all have to go through in order to grow up, move on, develop and go forward feeling strengthened and renewed. This kind of event happens to us all, I understand that, but caught in the moment it seems like an almost surreal happening, and I just hope that I coped with it as well as all of you have when you’ve had to face up to it in your relationships.

That’s right. On Monday, I faced that old classic where some girls have made badges of your boyfriend’s face, and other badges that say things like “I love [He Who Only…]”, and they are wearing them as decorations around their great big heaving bosoms.

Of course, I’d seen it dealt with in a humorous manner on American sitcoms. I’d heard it discussed on Trisha and Richard & Judy. But it’s funny; no matter how long you’re expecting it to happen, it always comes as something of a surprise.

I think the only person more horrified by the idea than me was He Who Only… himself, although I forced him to go over to talk to these ladies, who were sitting at a table not far from us, with the instructions that I wanted a “I love [He Who Only…]” badge, and he was not to return until he got one. And, true to his word, back he came about 10 minutes later clutching said badge in his hand and looking a little faint.

Having been a lady who regularly attends comedy gigs for the past ten years or so, I’ve been on the receiving end of many a vicious glance from comedian’s girlfriends, as they misconstrued my interest in their boyfriend’s performing work for something a heck of a lot more predatory, and now that I’ve found myself on the other end of that particular stick, it’s a very strange place to be. Although I’m not sure that my suspicions about these particular girls’ interests in He Who Only… are misplaced, I decided to be the bigger person in it all, and so a short while later I went over to the table of girls, from whose aforementioned heaving bosoms my boyfriend’s face was merrily smiling, and congratulated them on a job well done. If anything, I was enjoying this, simply because it was making He Who Only… so darned uncomfortable. I don’t think I’ve seen him looking quite so ill at ease without two belly dancers and my parents also present.


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