Gloden Shower Boy...

First...a short history lesson.

I first met Golden Shower Boy when I was seventeen. He's a 'mate' of my Hubby's and we were at a party for another one of their friends. I was wearing a short black dress; no doubt showing off my long tanned legs- and this must have given him the impression that I was some sort of easy chick that might welcome his sleazy attempts at half-arsed seduction.

Hardly; I was just young in the head.

When my Hubby- remembering that back then I was just an occasional fuck to him- left to get us more drinks for a moment, Golden Shower Boy took this as his opportunity to chat me up- disregarding the fact that I had arrived at this party, clearly with somebody else- and that somebody else was supposedly a friend of his; but when no interest from me was forthcoming he grabbed me by the throat, threw me up against Hicksey's Colourbond fence and proceeded to scream at me that I was just a stupid fucking slut. My Hubby came outside at that moment and, seeing me dangling from his Neanderthal's grip told him to put me down, fuck off and leave us alone.

To cut a short story even shorter I guess he never did.

I've gleaned the name Golden Shower Boy from a prison-bitch-name-generator that somebody (who I'll only identify as Miss Fancy Pants) sent to me in an email. It's the name he'd presumably be called if he ever went to jail; which just quietly is always on the cards. My own name is Turd Packer. My Hubby's known as the Altar Boy. It's also how Twinkle Toes got his name for those of you playing along at home. Anyway- Golden Shower Boy is as apt a description as you're ever likely to get of this poor excuse for a man.

Misogynist.

We only saw him sporadically in those first early years; it wasn't until only the last five years or so that my Hubby and he have regularly drunk together at our local pub. I'd disliked and mistrusted him for years- how could I not after how we had first met? He is one of only three people who have ever called me a cunt to my face in my life and I have never ever been out with him. And I hardly think that's ever likely to happen-seeing as the nicest thing I can say about him is that the thug looks like an ape.

Over the years me and Golden Shower Boy have had numerous drunken stoushes. One that springs to mind was on Melbourne Cup Day a few years ago; my Hubby had been down at the pub watching the race and when he got home all drunk and merry he told me that I could go down for a couple of drinks if I liked because all his mates were still down there and so I'd have somebody to talk to. Well; there were a few others there as well-Twinkle Toes among them- but it was Golden Shower Boy who made comment that my Hubby had let me off my chain for the afternoon. I let it slide; I was just happy to be out for the afternoon. I tried to ignore him. I really did.

But then he started to get nasty for no reason other than that he was drunk; saying that my Hubby always tried to 'cut his grass' with the women that he met ( ha; my Hubby's no Granny-Grabber!) to which I retorted that he was just jealous that what could have been a foursome one night quickly turned into a threesome because no one was much interested in fucking him. And to fuck right off- because nobody at the table even liked him that much.

Well that did it. I don't suppose a woman had ever affronted him so much before; at least not without getting a slap in the chops.

I should explain I suppose. The night that I got pregnant with my Little Son was also the first and only time that my Hubby and I have ever had a threesome. We were at the pub- naturally off our heads- and ran into Golden Shower Boy- who was sleazing all over this chick named Simone. She wasn't a bad sort; and lets just say that me and her hit it off better than they did- which was somewhat unfortunate for Golden Shower Boy because he also fancied fucking her. Long hours into the night and after much eight year old bourbon was drank we found ourselves kissing and oblviously stripping naked in front of Golden Shower Boy- who obviously thought his lucky day had arrived, and then woke up my Hubby to tell him the exciting news.

Just to make it clear; my Hubby and I aren't swingers. Really. That was the first and only time I've ever 'cheated' on my Hubby- and it was in front of him. So we went to bed, this girl and I and my Hubby. And we had sex and then my Hubby had sex with her and then we all had sex together. And Golden Shower Boy got nothing. Not even a little rub on the tit.

And I think it made him just a little bit jealous.

So fast fwd to the present day. I first met my friend M through Golden Shower Boy; who was fucking her on the side when he couldn't be with his 'real' girlfriend. It didn't last long; M would have told him to fuck off as soon as he'd showed his true colours anyway. M tells me that meeting us (me and my Hubby and all of our other friends) has been the only positive thing that has come out of their 'relationship'. This is because every time he sees M out at the pub with us he yells abuse at her -calling her things like a fucking dirty red rooter slut.

Charming huh?

This happened again the day after Australia Day. My Hubby and Twink were having a beer with M at the pub when he strode in- angry- looking for my Hubby to confront him about our friendship with M. Once again he thinks we are all fucking M- he has told the whole pub before that we are swingers and to watch out for their women when we are around.

Now I'm not blowing my own trumpet when I say that my Hubby and I are popular people- almost everybody that we meet tells us that we are an awesome couple; and on the surface we are. People want to be our friends; but to stress a point- I never fuck my friends. We both think M is an awesome chick; which means that even if I did want to have sex with her I'd much rather be her friend. And that means no sex. Ever.

Try telling that to Golden Shower Boy.

After hurling this abuse at M my Hubby and Twink told him that he wasn't to speak to a friend of their's like that while they were around- just as they should've. Like we 'd want to hang out with him instead of her. Just because he fucked her a few times doesn't mean jackfuck to me. It doesn't make her His or exclude her from being our friend. My Hubby called him outside and the weak prick stepped down; said he didn't want to fight. I know why, though. This 'man' is not only physically and verbally intimidating but he can throw a wicked punch; he's smashed in that many faces that I've lost count- my Hubby told me he got smashed with a baseball bat in the face once and he never even blinked. And my Hubby's knocked him on his arse. Twice. My man can fight when he has to.

He told him that if he wanted to keep carrying on that they should take it outside, but Golden Shower Boy wasn't prepared to take him on right there and then- so he left, just as the Publican and barman were getting ready to throw him out anyway- asking my Hubby if he had it sorted yet.

So my Hubby left the pub- we were having another barbeque because there was so much leftover meat from our Australia Day barbie- we're all drunk on the leftover beer and had organised another six pills of E. My Hubby didn't want to have his that night; we've been on them pretty hard since Christmas and spending a fortune- but Twink sorted that by sneaking up behind my Hubby and popping one into his mouth.

Then Twink left. Drunk and driving. Without even giving me one.

Phonecalls ensued. The situation was rectified as Twink came back- attempting a seven point turn and only narrowly avoiding the neighbour's car. The missing pills were finally located on the passenger seat, quickly consumed, and calmness descended momentarily.

Then my Hubby shit himself. Yes; it's embarrassing to admit but that's how the night progressed. The drugs just went straight through him and his body shit itself. Literally. He threw his pants out the window and then told me he'd thrown them on our neighbour's verandah.

Luckily; he'd missed. I would've had to speak to them if his aim had been better; and since we haven't spoken since they turned their lights out on me when I was yelling at them that my house was burning down (how I wish it had spread to their house) it would have definitly been an awkward moment.

But I'm straying from the story.

We are off our heads- the barbeque is in full swing. My Hubby's phone signals that a message has arrived. I answer it.

It's Golden Shower Boy; calling my Hubby a hero-cunt for standing up for M at the pub- telling him that if he still wants to go over to the park to punch-on then he is ready. Finally. Like he didn't have his chance at the pub. I can't remember all of the message- he basically said that my Hubby was no longer a mate of his; that he was a low cunt and fucking gutless- and I was fucking furious. It got me so fucking mad that as soon as I had shown everyone what the prick had meticulously written( no-one knew he could actually spell) I rang him up.

"What the fuck is this shit you are writing to us? What the fuck is your fucking problem? Why are you doing this to us queer-cunt?" I think I said...

He starts on that my Hubby is hiding behind his Missus. Not. I just wanted to give this cunt a piece of my mind, too. I wanted to give him an earful myself for being such a complete fuckwit. You should have heard me go off at him- for ten minutes straight I called him everything I could think off. I'm fucking over him and his shit.

"You're schizofuckingphrenic"...I think it went...and then he said that if my Hubby wanted a fight he had one.

He told me this had nothing to do with me. How could it not be? He's been calling me a slut down the pub to anyone who'll listen and swears black and blue that I'm fucking M as well. I told him this and he denied it- the fucking coward...I have that many witnesses. He implied that my Hubby and Twink were always going out- hitting on women. I laughed "Twink can do whatever the fuck he likes. And I know my Hubby better than that- it's you who does that to the women you go out with. You're the one who's a fucking cheat. You know what you are. You know what you do." He's even less happy by this stage. I couldn't even help it. The drugs were dictating.

"And then what will you do when you face my Hubby in the park? You'll back down again you fucking wimp!" I remember that part because I screamed it down the phone. And then I threw the phone to my Hubby. Twink gave me the thumbs up. My Hubby listened for a moment as Golden Shower Boy went on in his ear; still thinking he was ranting at me. Then quietly said, "You're talking to me now Cunt". He said that shut him up for about half a minute. After he had carried on for a bit longer, my Hubby told him to wake up to himself and then turned off the phone.

I was fucking ropeable. Wild even. How dare that prick message us that sort of shit? He's got the impression that we are all fucking M- like it's any of his business even if we were. He was the one who dumped her anyway; why should he give a shit who she fucks? The idiot. He's the one who's caused all this- he could've been our friend but instead he chooses to be a fuckwit. Why are we his targets when time and time again we are the only ones who've ever even given him a proper chance? Especially my Hubby- even after this cunt has has called me and him the worst imaginable names thinkable in the past- he has still gone down and drunk his beers with this dick on Friday afternoons.

I suppose he still thinks M is his hole in the mattress.

More later. This is ongoing...