I’m a Mug

I’m so sick of all the drama and the all the shit, and I’m sick of everyone’s inability to just be nice decent human beings. What am I going on about? Guess I should start with last night.

Pete and S didn’t come back until late last night, and as hard as I tried I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I woke up this morning knowing that I couldn’t put off ‘the talk’ any longer, but I wasn’t going to wake him up to dump him. So I left a sticky note on the telly, ‘Pete can you be home by 6pm tonight? I need to talk with you about something.’ That way he‘d be home when I got off work, and I could finally put this whole mess behind me.

Because I was dicking about with the note to Pete (I couldn’t decide how to word the note), I was running late for work, and I rushed out the door without my phone. I didn’t realise until I got to work, and I didn’t want to turn right back around and go home, so I decided to go back and collect it at lunch.

I skipped the café today and went home around noon, and I could hear it as I walked up the stairs. It was the undeniable sound of sex, and it was definitely the sound of Pete’s moaning. At first I was annoyed, a gut reaction really. Then I stopped, and right there as I stood on the stairs a smile came across my face. I was right, he has been sleeping with PoshPhD. This makes things so much easier, because he can just move right across the hall and go live with her.

I walked up the next half flight and stood outside my door. Should I take a theatrical approach: barge in, act surprised and indignant, and throw him out then and there? Or, should I be the mature scored lover: come back later, tell him that I heard it all, then ask him to leave? Or, should I just be the better person: pretend like I didn’t hear a thing, and that night tell him about Fife and I, hoping that he comes clean?

As I stood there facing the door to my flat, weighing my options, the door behind me opened and someone came out said, ‘Shit!’

I turned around and it was PoshPhD. She’d just come out of her flat. My mind was slow at first…if she was standing there…then who was in the flat with Pete… 

Now my mind was racing, it all made sense. His quick departure from Thailand. Why she couldn’t find anywhere else to go. The smiles, their closeness, the mornings I woke up to them asleep together on the floor in the lounge. Oh, my god, I was such a mug.

I asked PoshPhD, ‘How long have you known?’ 

‘Awhile,’ she said.

The noise stopped inside my flat. They’d finished. I went inside and they were on the bedtress. They didn’t even have the good taste to do it in the lounge on the futon mattress, no they were in my bed. Pete jumped up, while Sarah just rolled on her back and said, ‘For fuck sake. Today you had to come home for lunch.’

I couldn’t believe it. She was so cavalier. Pete was hoping about trying to put on clothes, saying, ‘Oh jesus…I’m so sorry…Oh jesus…Listen it’s not…’ Sarah just laid there with the duvet half across her.

I looked at Sarah and just said, ‘What the fuck?’ 

Sarah got up and put on a pair of jeans and a hoodie and said it was ‘no big deal’. That in other, more advanced cultures, partners are shared, ‘You can’t own someone.’ 

‘Fuck off.’ That’s all I had to say to that.

I wasn’t mad that she and Pete were together. If it were different circumstances, I’d congratulate them on making such a great couple. And to be honest, at this point, I couldn’t give a shit who Pete sleeps with. Maybe today was the first time they’d been together.

‘How long has this been going on?’ I asked.

Sarah said ‘That‘s not important. You should be happy for us.’ 

Between PoshPhD’s comment that she’s known ‘for a while’, and Sarah’s, ‘That’s not important’, I had an indicator of how long this had been going on. And now, I was livid. They had been sneaking around in MY HOUSE, while I PAID FOR EVEYTHING. I am really so spitting mad. I didn’t come clean with him about Fife because I was so worried about Pete’s welfare, but Pete and Sarah snuck around so they could continue to use me for a place to live.

I lost my shit. I started screaming, ‘You two have been using me for my flat, my food, my electricity. If this was all about love and happiness, you two would have moved out ages ago.’ 

Finally Pete said something, ‘I was really torn. This hasn’t been easy for me.’ 

Something I could actually understand, so I asked him about Friday night. Did he still have feelings for me then, when he crawled on top of me and started having at it, or was that just a further ruse to keep the two of them living in my house rent free? 

His answer, ‘I guess I was just drunk. But it has been really difficult lying to you. And I wanted to tell you ages ago, but Sarah said…’ 

Sarah then started having a go at Pete yelling at him, ‘What happened on Friday night? You said the last time you slept with her was right after you moved here.’ 

‘Now, now. Remember. You can’t own anyone’, I said sarcastically. ‘And it hasn’t been months, we slept together that weekend inSt Andrews.’ 

She hurled a shoe at Pete’s head. She then turned to me and said, ‘You have this flat anyway. Whether we’re here living here or not. But no, if we told you about us, then you would have been selfish and kicked us out.’

I was/am completely fed-up. I didn’t/don‘t care what happens to either one of them. I want Pete out of my head and out of my house. I want Sarah out of my life for ever. I cannot believe I’ve been used like this. This should so be my way out of the Pete situation, but I feel hurt and betrayed. Not as a girlfriend, but as Sarah’s friend.

I told them to get out of my flat. I wanted them gone by the time I got home from work. I didn’t don’t care where they go, as long as they leave.

I got my phone and stormed out. I passed PoshPhD as I walked out the door. I didn’t realise that she’d been hovering in the periphery this whole time. My god what a sleaze Pete is. Dating me. Sleeping with Sarah. And flirting with PoshPhD. And PoshPhD even knew about Sarah, yet she still flirted with him back. I don’t know how he does it, how he charms so many women, because if you just saw him on the street you’d think ‘dirty hobo’, not ‘Lathario’.

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3 responses to “I’m a Mug

  1. thebitchybride

    Yikes, you poor thing. I hope, at least, they’re gone by the time you get home and this is the end of your drama. xxx

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