All Men Are Bastards

ELIZABETH ROSE

“He is not affected by the reality of distress touching his heart, but by the showy resemblance of it striking his imagination. He pities the plumage, but forgets the dying bird.” –Thomas Paine

I’m sure some of you have already guessed I have (yet another) cynical view point on the existence and validity of male emotions. I must confess though that my cynicism on this topic is due to a recent injury to my pride and some hurt feelings.

Those of you who have been following my misadventures will be familiar with the name Finn. He has been a regular visitor to my bed and had even engaged my interest on a more intimate level than I would usually admit.

However… he recently decided to demonstrate his “emotional openness” by rocking up to the pub we met in to watch rugby with his new squeeze. There was no prior notification of his declining interest in me, or that his interest now lay elsewhere. In fact, quite contrarily to that, he had been sexting me that very morning.  When he arrived in the ex-pat bar for the game, he even managed to look surprised that I was there.

(It is worth noting that I never miss a game, and only ever watch it in the one bar – he is the fickle b’stard who flits around Toronto as suits him)

So there we are. He looks at me; I look at him in delight at unexpectedly seeing him. He looks at her; I look at her in confusion and growing distress. Since I am stubborn, prideful and above all fair – I chose not to make a scene. I know she didn’t pick up on the situation, as since she was an innocent bystander to his cuntery I was careful not to involve her.

I did raise the matter with him, when I asked him not to continue making out with her during the rugby match in my direct line of sight since they chose a table between me and the big screen.

Which brings me back to the topic for this week; I don’t doubt men have feelings – but why did he assume that I didn’t? To my mind his behaviour was:

1. Aimed to hurt my feelings
2. The direct result of him not taking even the slightest moment to reflect on how it would impact me.

.

In either case, his actions were utterly and completely inconsiderate.

So in short – all men are bastards.

And I’m sulking.

And by sulking I mean shagging everything in sight to remove all trace of his tongue, hands and hairy penis from my body’s memory.

Bookmark It