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Dreadful Nonsense

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

It's always good to start any post with a photograph of a toilet door:



We were out for He Who Only...'s birthday celebrations. He's old, but I'll let you into a little secret: he's not as old as I am. But ssssh, don't tell anyone. Particularly not him. He's under the impression I'm about 25. Don't tell him any different, it'll ruin the dream.

But that's beside the point. At said celebrations there was a gathering of friends old and new, and it was all highly enjoyable but relatively well behaved stuff. A gathering on a week night will always have that effect on the participants, and so booze flowed, but not too freely, and we all managed to return home with the correct partner and all of our underclothes intact, as is befitting of a gathering of people in their late twenties. Dignity, at all times.

Now, the one tiny beef I had with the whole gathering was the fact that, sprinkled around the participants, were one or two ex-ladyfriends of He Who Only...'s. I'm not the jealous type - that is to say, in the course of a day I can allow He Who Only... out of the house in the full knowledge that at some point during said day his gaze will alight, however briefly, on a lady of the fairer sex. I am, though, safe and happy in the knowledge that he will not, no matter how tempted he is, run off with this fair maiden, leaving me bereft in a flat full of mice. Of this, if of nothing else, I'm perfectly sure.

However, I am second to no one in my hatred for all things ex-ladyfriends. I would go so far as to say my feelings in this relation are bordering on the psychotic. Last night, at a rare quiet moment, I texted my good friend Mrs Bishop, asking her if she would defend me in Court if I went on a crazed killing spree and destroyed all evidence of each of He Who Only...'s exes, in an attempt to allow me to sleep more restfully in my bed. She advised against it, explaining that although it is a truly natural and understandable emotion, these things don't tend to play well in front of a judge and a jury of peers. Therefore, the ex-ladyfriends must continue to live.

I did have a little chat with some of the other ladies who were present at the evening, those ladies who have never, to the best of my knowledge, been anything other than utterly platonic with He Who Only..., and I was very comforted to know that they, each and every last one of them, also hate their boyfriends ex-ladyfriends with a vengeance that matched (and in one case even surpassed) my own. It's nice to know that, even in the most secure and comfortable relationship, there is still some craziness lurking just under the surface.

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