Case of The Bitter Ex.

My Dearest Readers,

It has been a while since I last wrote to you all, largely due to the fact that I was and still am away on vacation in the lovely Tanzania. Packing my suitcase for a two week adventure and saying goodbye to my loved ones was what I had in mind...little did I know what was in store for me. Not a week has gone by with out the ghastly Softspot sending me one obnoxious message after another, calling me pungent and the likes. I beg the world, answer me this:- am I truly the one bitter and in desperate need that we get back or is it he?
I’d like to present my case to you all, please judge and respond accordingly.

I’ll first call to the stand the endless messages that this boy-man will not stop sending me. Be it about a stupid photograph or in the name of his (suddenly close) relative who he feels he must vouch for my attention...this bugger will not let me be. Should I reply his insulting text messages, he will embark on taking me round and round on a trip that I shall not entertain anymore. Scolding me harshly, telling me to shut up and loose weight among other things have become is favorite basis for abuse. Advising me to take a second look in the mirror at my ‘ugly’ self...insisting that what he heard about my ‘money’ is not entirely true. If he had known earlier (I recently found out) then he wouldn’t have bothered, implying my amount in shillings or dollars or whatever currency he chooses to count in is purely not good enough for him.

Please Note: I haven’t complained to him about him not being able to give me anything for the whole seven or eight months that we had been together other than a shriveled up onion and a couple badly bruised tomatoes that surely could not have cost the cheap son-of-a-bitch more than 300/= (and to the rest of you, that’s less than $1) not to mention the whole idea of him having borrowed quite a sum of money from me before we even started dating...tsk tsk

I must say, dear Jury of the Court, he is not only rude, but seriously out of line to be coming at me from that angle of argument. Is it because he thinks he has a face of gold? I will not lie, it is cute at first glance but surly after a week of looking at that expressionless face with protruding dumb-sized ears; one does get tired of its features. So shall I conclude that this phoney-balony expects the fairer sex to pay for the rest of his life for what he holds as undying beauty? He doesn’t age for one, that I’ll hand it to him, but surely its not only demeaning, but largely embarrassing for a boy-man of 27 or 28 (he never is quite sure about his date of birth) who recently completed what was remaining of his pitiable education at a fairly dysfunctional university (at a fairly old age, might I add) under the roof of his parents; to be taken care of by a girl of 22, still in school, without a definite field of work and under her parents care. Its appalling, what is this world coming to?

Next, I’ll proceed onto bringing into the court for analysis the endless phone calls that all end with me hanging up on his gruff, commanding voice. I implore the audience, isn’t it that once a relationship is terminated, any kind of affiliation and superiority between the two that were once held are all completely destroyed once an agreement is met? I should think so, but it’s not like this for that sucker. Should he call me, he shall bark into the phone on the other line a rude question pondering whether I got his messages or not. No greeting, not salutation, nothing. A rude to-the-point question as though I should still know what it is of his I have, where it is and what his voice sounds like over the phone. I at times think he decides to take his fury out on me when he is pissed with alcohol or just plain bored. The world that has known me for quite some time all agrees that he has failed to ‘get over’ me as such, probably because now the little dim-wit has realized the diamond he once possessed in his power which he decided to thrown to the lions. I’m afraid, I am not that tolerant and I was built to withstand break ups. I do believe that it is he, who is having a problem letting it go, for it’s been almost a month and a week but the bugger will not let another day go by without uttering a word.

This all is very disturbing because I have indeed moved on and I’m currently in deep relations with another. I wouldn’t want to spoil something that has been soooo lovely to experience merely due to this old Ex and his failure to move on. I wonder, what is a girl to do in this situation? Surely his pre-mature boy-man mind must tell him that we have surpassed all stages of reconciliation? That abuse and threats shall not stop me from continuing my life, just as before.

Please Note: I haven not sent in troops to beat the poor old geezer into a coma, nor have I made his name soiled in town. I informed those dear to me and fled the country for fear of the twit actually making his last threat while I was on Ugandan soil true: that he should find me in a bar some night and haul a beer bottle to my head.

I would like to rest my case by pointing out the fact that (in his words) I am “the weak and pathetic one” who “desperately needed” the other night and day. Who could ever blame a girl for showing her man her unconditional love? It didn’t matter whether he pissed-drank himself into a drunken stooper of alcoholic arrogance, lay around the home all day
(smoking up a storm and reading my diaries) waiting on his housemaid of a girlfriend to come back in between classes to prepare his midday meal or simply comply to his sexual needs. See, the beauty of being young and naive?

I’ll tell you what being weak is: its not being able to even attempt to look after your very young, pretty and ambitious girlfriend who took you in full knowing that her family tree could outrun yours three times over with both their academic gene, natural born intelligence and wealth from just one generation.

As for being pathetic, being pathetic is: not knowing where you are headed to after university while full knowing that you haven’t passed your degree highly; quitting the only job that could have given you some back ground all in the name of other people being promoted apart from you (gee, I wonder why...duh! your academics sucked); and stringing on your girlfriend to believe you just aren’t trying hard enough to look for a job when in fact the point is you have no qualifications for a job in the competitive market...instead you rely on HER MOTHER getting you a job (the one you currently have, if you haven’t been fired already)

Desperately needing the other, that is: absolute bullshit! In reality I didn’t need another burden to carry when in fact I was already juggling school, two certificates, three jobs and a truck load of friends. I was a miracle waiting to happen to the bum:- an unending source of cash, a punching bag when the need arise, pleasuring tool, maid, advisor, mother, comforter and friend all wrapped up in one. I took over and fit into every aspect of that suckers life, without me he could have never accomplished all that he had set out to. So you decide, who is more desperate?

In a nutshell, I will not accept, and beseech the Jury to side with me, to be continuously treated as though that was my normal nature and that anybody can get away with ordering me around like a solider, being insulted like a black south African in the early 90’s by a white south African or simply being contacted like I want to have anything to do with him, and like nothing ever went wrong between us.

Jury of this court, I would like to sign out with this simple question: If it were you, what would you do?

Thank you all for your time. I rest my case.

Sincerely,

Naughty Nali