Boys with Girls.
The wife has been in contact with a lad she used to go to Primary School with quite recently. Now… this lad has a girlfriend, and he knows that Emma knows this. And yet over the past week he has continued to bombard her with overly-nice and flirty text messages. If she doesn’t reply within a 5-10 minutes, he’ll send a follow up text “Is everything ok?” or “Oi, you not talking to me?” Does he literally spend no time with his woman? And why put so much effort in when it’s clearly never going to get anywhere??
In situations like this, I would never say that she is in the wrong for replying to his messages or even for flirting with him. At the end of the day, he is the one who has chosen to be commited to somebody else, whether or not he keeps his word on that is not my wife’s problem.
Having never been cheated on, I don’t know the feeling of having somebody go behind your back. And because of this I find it unreasonable for the women in this situation to hate the women their men are cheating with. The men were the one’s who promised to be faithful… But to us, all’s fair in love and war.
I’ve had a couple of ‘Takens’ on the cards since the Break Up. But the point is, that these men are a lot more attractive to us because the likelihood of having to actually do anything we say to them is very small. Still, it makes me wonder why they bother doing it in the first place. And should we feel bad for playing along with them even though they have another woman on the sideline?
Dan started talking to me on Facebook a couple of months ago. We casually chatted about how we would make a bang-bus movie together (direct, not star in), the size of our porn collections, and the like. He had introduced me to his missus once when we were out about a year ago, and I knew (from what he’d told me) that they were living together and had been together a few years… The Facebook chatting turned into texting. He’d text me when he was at work (obviously when she wasn’t anywhere near) discussing what outfit I was wearing and whether or not i was bending over a desk. He started to tell me how much he liked me… Instant bad sign. I told him I liked him too but that this was just fun, he had a girlfriend who he was happy with, and there was no point in ruining that. I didn’t want to go out with him, it was all just a bit of fun. The texts became more frequent during the evenings and weekends, until one night he rang me up saying she’d been through his phone and that he was really in the shit. I had no sympathy. Like I said, if they chose to break their word, that’s their business. If it wouldn’t have been me, it would have been somebody else.
But is the thrill of the chase actually more exciting than the catch? And not just for lads, for girls too…
There’s a lad who I’m currently half-bedding. Meaning, the opportunity is there, I’ve just not decided whether or not I want to take it. I completely made all the effort to begin with. He’s younger than me, and one of Emma’s mates so it wasn’t instantly set up to be a pull. After I had put forward my flirty efforts with military precision, I have truly bagged him, but now he want’s it, I’ve gone off the idea. I’m such a lad.
Messy.
Thursday evening : Text message received from Corbett – “Fancy Burnley tonight bud? X”
I was already dressed, made up, and straightening my hair. I had already made the decision that, even if the Banter Boys bailed on me, I’d find some ‘partial’ to tag along with for the night. I wanted to get wankered. We made a plan to meet at the pub at half 8… There were a few others who met us there for a pint, but they were all working the next day so drove home afterwards. The sambuka shots started there for me and Corbett.
The wife wasn’t on it, she was out on a ‘sex date’ but I presumed she’d be meeting up with us afterwards. I presumed this because we both share the same theory that sex shouldn’t be long and drawn out like the type most people seem to go on about… Like the one’s who say “I can go for hours”… Why the hell would I want it to last hours?? Just get it done! To clarify, it’s not like I don’t enjoy it, but sex should be like an explosion, like a big bang (so to speak), and after hours and hours it just gets sore and uncomfortable.
I somehow managed to enroll Dunny into the night which was a rarity because when we usually go out, he’s working on the doors. Tonight, however, was a Thursday… All bets were off.
Sat in Wetherspoons in Burnley, I’d approximate that me and Corbett had half a dozen shots, and 3-4 drinks in the space of an hour and a half. I remember feeling alright until the wife walked in, then as my excitement got the better of me, I seemed to have moved myself into an ‘uncontrollable drunk’.
From there the night was a blur of general abuse towards my sober Wife, some admittedly shameless flirting with all and sundry, the pulling of a practical minor (haha), chatting up some woman so that I could scab a fag off her outside Isabar, being sick on three separate occasions, and busting some fantastically large moves on a half empty dance floor. Apologies to all. And to top the night off, I also ended up getting off with Corbett, who is one of my very good mates, after having to drop him to his door due to his incapability to walk alone without dropping to the ground and falling asleep. “Fuck it, we’re both pissed”… Messy. But I’d do it all again.
