I got an email, a text, and a Facebook message from one of my best friends in the area earlier today, someone who witnessed firsthand the sheer idiocy of a personal relationship I had that spanned from approximately October 2002 through approximately December 2006. (The creepy text messages didn't end until March 2010, but the last physical sighting was definitely '06.) This friend said she had something to tell me, and I had an immediate suspicion that it had something to do with said idiot relationship. Man, was I ever right, and it was deliciously entertaining.
It turns out that my friend's BFF has a close friend I know. Not through personal interaction, but through the periphery known as the sexual travails of the aforementioned personal relationship. Yup, this is the person with whom Brian Coffey cheated on me numerous times. The one and the same. At this point, I can't even vouch for whether I was the only person that got cheated on with this individual, however; seeing as how Brian failed massively at having an exclusive relationship with me, there's no telling how many other people actually thought at one time they might be his "girlfriend." I'm sure there are many layers of us lurking in the Boston area. I suppose we should all be thankful that none of us has syphilis, gonorrhea, AIDS... At least, I don't, so YAY. I could provide a name of the massively offending female party here, a Twitter link, a Facebook page, etc. It isn't worth it, however, because I'm the only one who needed to put a face to the name to get closure and see what I was inadvertently "competing" with. Blech.
So back to the anecdote--My friend was hanging out with the BFF and this other woman without realizing at first who she was, and eventually she put two and two together and figured out her identity based on statements she was making that culminated in a request for parking for a 1976 Cadillac. My friend made a point to say whose side she's on in the situation, and I love her for that. I also hope that she said, verbatim, "I don't have a parking space for that red-headed slut" like she said she did on the phone in describing her opinion of Brian, to this other woman in person. That would be extra icing on the cake.
What I find especially amusing is that amidst all his lies and talk of how the things we did together meant so much to him, Brian was banging a suicide girl who loves Dave Matthews. Talk about as opposite as you can get from me, in both aspects... And speaking of opposites, I rule, and Brian and everything about Brian sucks. In addition, Bill's ex from New York sucks and is probably still a huge bitch and I hope that the coke kills her. Or ebola. Or, hell, AIDS, just to bring it up again. EBOLA HEART ATTACK AIDS!!! (It's probably a speed metal band in Poland somewhere.)
The great thing is that I'm deliriously happy with my life, my body is no longer trying to eat my intestines and kill me, and I'm pooping like a champion racehorse. This enables me to feel entitled to talk about the two people I hate the most in the world (with rational hate, as opposed to irrational hate, like what I feel when I see Troy Tulowitzki), one of whom I will never meet, and the other of whom I hope to crush in an embarrassing social situation that reveals just how flawed he actually is. Well, or I could just continue to ignore him. That's just fine, too.
