Part Two...

Okay; so here's the latest.

After a solid week of abusive text messages from Golden Shower Boy we showed up at the pub on Friday night as per usual- me, my Hubby and Twinkle Toes. The three of us were joking around but all of us were on edge, just waiting for the inevitable. My Hubby had planned on bringing a Wiggle's band-aid with him for any injuries he sustained but had forgotten it. Damn.

I was overly nervous. Everytime the door opened, or someone called out across the bar, or a phone rang, I would practically jump out of my skin. I could barely speak- all my words seemed jumbled as I rode out a particularly bad- but somehow hardly noticed- panic attack. The barman was attaching the TAB pens near our table and had left his hammer behind for a few minutes while he poured some more beers; I couldn't stand it being there- all shiny and new just waiting for Golden Shower Boy to walk through the door and grab it. I could have almost written the script in my head- hammer is picked up, hammer is used- no thanks. I returned it to the bar, much to the barman's un-amusement (is that even a word?). He grumpily retreived it and continued banging away- only adding to my jangling nerves.

We popped our pills. These ones were wheel-chairs- to which I only half-heartedly joked and hoped that we wouldn't all end up in one by the end of the night. My Hubby only has half of his 'cos he wants to stay semi-alert. We reckon Golden Shower Boy is sitting at the next closest pub- drinking a few beers and re-fuelling his anger. Or watching M ( she lives upstairs at the pub) as she leaves; to see if she's coming to 'our' pub to have a few drinks with us. It's the sort of thing the control-freak does.

It's getting closer to dark; the mini-pizza bar-snacks arrive so I had a piece even though it stuck in my cottonwool throat. The drugs were working and I'm relaxing- because he should have been there by now if he was going to show. We agree that he must have seen sense at last- or maybe his girlfriend had been successful in keeping him from making yet another mistake (because you can't be on a good behaviour bond and assault people without going to jail). Some of our other friend's arrive and tell us about their golfing day- Razzle's just bought himself a new set of clubs and has been dragging J around the golf courses. We fill them in with the updates- the whole pub's been talking of nothing else for days; even the publican wanted to be filled in when we'd arrived and then bought us each a beer when we told him the only reason we hadn't been in all week was because we are all flat broke (Twink lost his job the other day, you know, for telling his boss to shove it up his well-fucked arse. We laughed at him for that.) But we are certainly not in hiding as Golden Shower Boy had accused us on Wednesday; just miserably poor.

Anyway. The stories begin. Everyone seems to be on our side and in agreeance that Golden Shower Boy has crossed the line this time and is mentally ill.

Kasper tells my Hubby that Golden Shower Boy is sick of me trying to root his women. Geez. I only cut his grass Once. Get over it I say. She wasn't even interested in Him.

Fido tells my Hubby that Golden Shower Boy can not trust my Hubby around his women- and that he never has been able to. What a crock of shit. That's actually funny; being as Golden Shower Boy is the one who has hit on me before- many times. It's like he's accusing us of the things HE does.

Maybe he wishes he WAS us?

I don't know.

I rang M just before it was dark cos' a few of us were planning to go watch one of our other mate's play guitar at another pub. I asked her if she was still planning on coming down but she was having a drink with her friend Retta and had decided against it. I can't really blame her- I just hope she hasn't decided that being our friend isn't worth this much trouble. She's been copping a lot of shit from Golden Shower Boy all week too; he's been bad-mouthing her at the pub that she LIVES at- how fucked is that? She can't even go down into her 'loungeroom' without being harrassed.

All this because Golden Shower Boy is jealous and convinced that me, my Hubby and Twink all want to have sex with her.

M tells me the word over at her pub is that Golden Shower Boy has gone out of town for the weekend. So- just like I knew he wouldn't- he didn't show. See; I was right in calling him a fucking wimp. That's the second chance he's missed now. He'll never live it down.

So Friday came and went. We had a ball with J and Razzle at the other pub watching our mate go off on the guitar and then we crashed at their house. In the spare room. See; I told you we weren't swingers.

For the whole of Saturday we mistakenly believed that Golden Shower Boy might have grown up; but no such luck. Fido spoke to him last night- the only reason he didn't show was because he'd dislocated his shoulder jumping off the second tower at the local pool and knew he'd get flogged with only one good arm. So he didn't show. Gutless cunt. Was I right or was I right?

At least there is some good news. From what we've heard he's now deleted my Hubby's number (and Twink's) from his mobile; so at least there shouldn't be any more texts. I'm not saying that this will be the end of it- by all accounts the dick still wants to have a fight with my Hubby- well I can tell you this- He's ready for you PRICK. So watch out for your eyes.