The Soap Opera as Written by One of the Players
The following was written as a release of steam and in no way represents real life...apart from the entire section from start to end...that does...
What is it about some insipid people who have suffered pain and angst, that makes them insist on thrusting such bleakness upon others when an opportune and vulnerable moment arises? An urge for company in the darkness? A misguided anti-life-jacket that only serves to pull people under the murky waters of their misery swamps?
It bemuses me that there are these people. People who, when they see another in sorrow, will do their utmost to ensure the sadness is not only indelible and entrenched for longer than it should be, but will make themselves feel better by mixing up a cocktail of gossip and assumption to guarantee that their susceptible "friends" retain a hang-over of anguish and despair far longer than necessary. All in the guise of "care" and "affection", but rampantly emblazoned with the reality of voracious malevolence.
Of course, I am being a tad extravagant in my floridity due to the fact that my life and the life of those that I love have been affected by such bitter slop-suckers. But, hey ho! Inspiration for venom will strike where it may strike.
The horrific facts of my marriage failure last year were that a) we couldn't make it work & b) we tried to but failed. We were with each other for six years in total, lived apart for one of those years and were married for another. Along the way, we had a beautiful son. Can you imagine how the camp fires around town roared at that juicy story. They should have made a blockbuster film, based on such an intricate and turny, twisty, juice-entwined tale!
Unfortunately for me but, more importantly for my separated wife, the tale wasn't quite juicy enough for the bottom-feeders. They saw vulnerability in an abandoned "wife and mother" in "such a painful way - [that it] will have its reprocussions [stet]" - a quote, from someone who shall remain nameless, but saw fit to lecture me in a poorly written rant of an email (whilst, quite oblivious to the fact she was lying to me about me, simpering for updates to her low-traffic website that serves to denote her fading acting career and attempts to break into the business of making people suffer with her unpleasant music).
They found a way to dig their claws in. There were guts to be spilled and tears to be shed in order to satisfy their crud-lust.
“What was said?”, I vaguely hear you inaudibly mutter! Well, let me pull just a few from a long list of twaddle. Hmm, let me see…
- “He made another woman pregnant.”
Easy to understand - as I have three children with two separate women. This in itself is obviously proof that I am unable to stop my seed spilling forth into (and perhaps onto) unsuspecting females. I’m a baby machine. I have no reproductive brakes.
- “He’s gay.”
Again, easy to comprehend, since I am relatively camp in nature and anyone with a modicum of creativity or sensitivity is certain to be gay.
- “He was having an affair.”
Perhaps the most damaging, as I had made friends with several new people over the failing months of my marriage (gay, straight, men & women) and didn't introduce them to my wife - one of these being the girl I am now with. So, too much of an easy target. That said, I also developed a rather cumbersome haemorrhoid during that time and failed to introduce her to that. Inconsequential? Perhaps!
- "There's a pattern…I'm just saying…there's a pattern."
So, I abandon my relationship because that's what I am programmed to do. Let's face it, I've done it before, I did it this time and I'm bound to do it again. That, or some obsession that leads me to leave spouses for tartan, plaid or perhaps floral designs?
- “He's an alcoholic.”
Fair play. I enjoy a drink, but would I really toss aside my family to be an alcoholic alone if that was the only reason? I can't recall, I was too drunk.
- “He didn’t leave enough time before leaving you before he went with another woman”
Suspiciously, I was unaware of the official legal mourning period after a split. Having made so many women pregnant and having left so many wives before, you’d think I would have known better than to cast aside solace and care in order to flagellate myself for failing yet another relationship.
- “You and he weren't able to make it work.”
Of course not. That was never suggested. It was too far-fetched to be true.
I could go on for hours about what people assumed, based on circumstantial or simply fabricated evidence with the sole purpose of generating the desired level of tears in an unsuspecting party. Alas, my need to vent has subsided, as has the glass of wine (see point e. and adjust quantities according to taste), which has achieved the desired level of nonchalance I so desperately sought to find.
To put the record straight and for people who may wish to hear my side of the story:
We tried. We split. We got back together. We got married. We tried harder. It didn’t work.
I am so sorry that there was nothing more than that. I'm sorry that people were no doubt hurt by something as simple (yet, may I add, fucking painful) as our situation. I am so sorry our simple failure wasn’t more interesting to you. In our defence, we never set out to entertain.
To all those who so desperately want to hurt susceptible people in order to make your own miserable situations more bearable, please note - you will never escape your self-portrait of anguish if you try to paint it over with bullshit. You will simply make it a picture of bullshit, painted in bullshit.