Warning: The following post is completely unrelated to politics.
Okay, so sometimes I indulge in that self-indulgent practice of telling a story that no one cares about, just because it makes me grin. And this one does, it makes me grin. And every time I tell it, I grin a little more, so let's call this'n self-indulgence for the sake of a big grin.
Some of my lovely readers (hi, Daddy) know that I've got an ex. To avoid revealing any sensitive details, because I'm cool like that where others might not be, I'm going to call him Farley, which is obviously a fake name because I'd never date a guy named Farley. But let's say that I did, and let's say that we were together for four and a half years and engaged at one point but no longer together because he dumped me unceremoniously for a chick named Sunny - and yes, actually, that is her real name, although in the realm of fake names, it seems to me that a guy named Farley would dump me for a girl named Sunny.
Anyway, I've moved on (couldn't you tell?). I actually had a date today - nothing huge, just a pleasant lunch date with a guy we'll call Todd, again a fake name because I'd never date a guy named Todd (although I'd be more likely to date a Todd than a Farley). Anyway, we're going to say that Todd is a bricklayer (not his real occupation). As you know, Farley is also a bricklayer; I don't chase after bricklayers, but it has to be said that bricklayers usually fit my "type" as far as guys go.
Anyway. I'm out with Todd, and during the course of the conversation it comes out that Farley, my ex, is also a bricklayer. And of course Todd asks where Farley lays bricks, since there aren't that many places to lay bricks in town. And when I tell him where Farley lays bricks, Todd immediately recognizes him and goes. Freaking. Nuts.
"Oh, my God. You dated him? Oh, my God! Everyone hates him. He is such an asshole. He's the biggest asshole. Nobody likes him, because he's such an asshole. I can't believe you dated that asshole. How did you date him? I can't believe it. Oh, my God. He's just such an asshole."
Word for word, I swear. And Todd goes on to tell me about a dozen stories about how horrible Farley is to work with, what an asshole he is, how everyone hates him, and how unfathomable it is that I ever actually dated him. And I'll tell you, the stories differ quite a bit from the hero stories that Farley used to tell, the stories where he used to deliver babies and rescue kittens and compose magnum opi between bricks and everybody just lur-hur-hurved him, and if Todd's stories are true, Farley is, in fact, a real asshole. Really, I can believe it - throughout the relationship, Farley exhibited a gracious many characteristics that, allowed to run unchecked, could rocket him into asshole territory. Todd said that next time he's at the brickyard, he intends to go on and on about how he banged this totally hot chick named ACG the other day, that she was just incredible, like some kind of jungle cat and/or Chinese gymnast, and gosh, Farley, your face is turning red.
And that's pretty much the story, in the end. Nothing huge or earth-shattering; just a really satisfying story from a really nice guy for a girl who's still at the gosh-I'd-like-to-back-over-him-in-my-friend-Jiho's-Touareg stage of the breakup process. Did it make me a better person? Hell, no. Was it satisfying? Indubitably.
Oh, and I didn't actually sleep with Todd. But I'm okay with him telling Farley that I did, just to hear about his reaction.