Just today I listened to the radio and found a young girl playing a prank on her boyfriend - supposedly trying to make him jealous. Never actually saw the sense in that but judging by the shockingly blue streak that spewed from his lips, she succeeded. Took mere seconds for our bad boy to go ballistic. Washing the thug's dirty mouth with soap wouldn't have sufficed since I'm sure only heavy-duty carbolic acid would do the trick. And all the time he threatened bloody violence, the silly filly just giggled possibly thinkng that her threatening brute of a boyfriend was so the man.
Seriously. Is this barbaric throwback to the Neanderthals what girls really, really want? Call me back when you're bruised, battered and beaten in a women's shelter.
Are we all doomed to repeat the same mistakes? Reminds me of a friend all eager to introduce her new beau - after going through a recent bitter separation. One would expect that she's learnt her lesson.
So when will the next hit come?
I was wrong. Whispery Wilhelmina came in with ... what we have termed a clone of her jerkoff husband. Seriously. It was like her brutish husband revisited. I had to rub my eyes twice to make damned sure I wasn't encountering deja vu.
The minute she took a seat, it was like the start of the Belittle Wilhelmina Game with Jerkoff Joe as the outstanding contestant. I didn't even have to ring the bell for the games to start.
Joe : You gonna eat that? It must contain a thousand calories.
Wilhelmina : *giggle* Sorry. Of course not.
Joe : And you still have all that baby fat.
Wilhelmina : Yeah, I'm working hard at it.
Joe : Obviously not enough. God, you're sloppy. Wear a bib, would you?
Had to stop myself from joining in the mean fun.
Look, Wilhelmina has her faults, I know - but we love her, warts and all. Though the temptation to shake her does come occasionally. So question for Jerkoff Joe - if you actually see that many fatal flaws, why are you dating her? Go find some other stick-thin anorexic bleached-blond then.
Worst of all, Wilhelmina doesn't see it. Blinded by love ( and black magic? ) the man can do no wrong. The unprepossessing Joe is playing all the same cards as her ex husband did - and yet again she seems to be falling hopelessly for the same pack of lies. Poor Wilhelmina. Near Pavlovian, she sees scumbags and drools in response. A scrub magnet no doubt trapped in some Freudian love game, doomed to love dominating bastards in a two-hundred-mile radius.
Yeah, I know I'm harsh. But I feel like shaking her hard. Didn't I listen to a litany of complaints about a jerkoff husband? And now she's back with his twin? Scumbag Version 2.0?
Maybe some serious aversion therapy would work. Electrocution?