So, before I go in balls deep on this hussie, you need to know we are friends. Proper friends. Years of it. Shared drinks and shared secrets and shared hangovers and the kind of history that does not get cancelled because someone gets a bit lippy. I do not want dog-piling. I do not want pile-ons. I do not want strangers turning this into a morality play. She just needs to know who her superior is. This is retaliation, not an attack. There is a difference. Retaliation is when they take a swing at your work and you swing back with better aim and a grin on your face.
I had a few playful digs. Meant in love, of course. I, quite frankly I was a little envious. She started her Substack and she is hitting near my subscriber count in a few weeks. I have been at this for years. Years of grinding, years of shouting into the void, years of building the thing brick by brick while she rocks up and the numbers start climbing like the algorithm suddenly decided she was the main character.
I am proud of her. I mean that. Every post she does is not easy for her. She is alone a lot of the time. Emotionally she is a black hole. She does not have the same easy tap I have when it comes to bleeding on the page. When she publishes something it costs her. That matters. I am proud of her and I think it is great. I will say that as many times as I need to so nobody pretends this is some bitter unravelling of a friendship. It is not. I want her to win.
That being said.
Oooooh, hell no!
You do not get to take apart my articles just because you have a degree, girlfriend. You do not get to sit there with your new academic pillow and act like my work is sloppy because it does not come with a bibliography and a seminar voice.
We, in the best way, are going to counter argument.
A counter.
You came for the work. The work is going to come back.
The Secret Guy Thing
Firstly, when I call Flipper a hussie, it’s because she’s not. I know, to my subs in the States it’s a weird use of words, it’s just what we do here. She doesn’t leave her flat most of the time. She’s only ever had two boyfriends, doesn’t do hook-ups, she’s the most sexually boring person you would ever met. She’s as dull and lightless as she looks.
Sex is all about experience. Sexually dull people need awakening, they need to feel what’s possible, and not what they have settled for. So when I put my contact in front of her like a dangled carrot, it was purely to expand her experience. I honestly didn’t even think she’d use the number. But I knew this guy would fucking crater her hard, she wasn’t even close to his level of experience. But in doing so, I think she’s become a bit too high above her station.
Secondly, I never said you had to stop seeing him just because he now refuses me. Even if by some miracle and twist of fate it is him. Which I can’t see. He likes us ugly ones that can stand their ground and take it and not amateurs with two previous boyfriends, wet sex drives and pretty faces.
He’s still a mate. Granted he’ll never tell me if you are, officially, but I’ve never asked him either. Accept maybe when our arrangement was live. We don’t now obviously. Basically I cannot keep quiet about it when we do. That is the entire mechanism. I am a blogger. It is what we do. If something happens I will write it. If I write it, people will know. If people know, the thing stops being the thing it was. So I am banned. Not in some dramatic official sense. The mother fucker just said nope!
I was in the States. You took my carrot, asked for his number. I know you don’t get out much because of your eyes. I knew you needed it. So I told him. He was okay, sure. Then I sent you his number. I knew what the guy’s thing is. I knew full well you were going to get railroaded in a way I know all too well. I was under no illusions. I did not hand you a mystery box and pretend it was a teddy bear. I handed you what you asked me for. I knew the terms. I knew the aftermath. I knew you would come out the other side looking like you had been hit by a very specific kind of weather. But you are now, you’re his day off girl, his recess. When he wakes up and says, I’m not working hard today. That’s your day.
So this jealousy thing is a fabrication.
You actually owe me.
You said you were not seeing him again. That you dug in out of solidarity. Honestly, I did not care. If the roles were reversed it wouldn’t phase me in the slightest. This is the married woman’s go to, he’s not exclusive to anyone, I wouldn’t think twice, I don’t care who he was with before, who he’s with now, I don’t care who is ex’s are, I don’t care if my best friends are his ex’s. He knows how to keep quiet, and he’s good at what he does.
So my articles you posted, evidence of contradiction. Actually, they are proof I don’t care what you’re doing.
How many times have I said, all that matters is your pleasure. You only live once, married, partnered, situationship, you do whatever it takes to have fun. Cheat, lie, betray, you owe nothing to anybody, you do it all in secret, you do it unapologetically, you do whatever it takes to have a good time in your life. This man works around your needs and keeps your secrets. It’s a slam dunk.
So, you declared solidarity. And I was like whatever. I am not going to know either way. I am not checking. I am not staking out anyone’s read receipts. I have a life and a publication and a tendency to assume people will do exactly what they were always going to do the second they get a quiet evening and a reason. That is not surveillance. That is pattern recognition. And I did, I got on with it. I didn’t care.
Then we did our livestream. I posted the screencap and the article. Now several viewers noticed something I missed. In the clip I had a dig. I said I have got Lisa/Flipper, on my podcast, so I can keep an eye on her. When I said that, the viewers noticed the expression on your face, just before you laughed.
That, GF, is a look of panic if I ever saw one. I can’t actually believe I missed it.
And it was not until a few days later that I saw it myself. That little flicker. The one that is not acting. The one that lands before the performance catches up. So thereafter I had a few digs because I am me. That is the job description. I see a crack and I press it. Not to destroy you. To remind you that I am still watching. I don’t care what you’re doing or who with. We are friends, I’m happy someone is actually bringing out of yourself, its nice. Who it is isn’t relevant, but I don’t like being lied to. If you have to lie, then don’t bring the subject up.
Logically
So it is obvious Flipper was going to pick up her text. When she got dumped last week I felt really bad for her. I did. I am not made of concrete. A dumping is a dumping even if you saw it coming from three postcodes away. And our mutual friend was inevitable and predictable. Of course it was. You do not get handed a solution like that and then sit in the wreckage of a breakup pretending the solution does not exist.
But then, I’m like, wait, that live stream was before she got dumped. So I’m like now thinking, you way to go girl, two on deck? I am so proud of you it bellows. This guy in the inbetweener, he fills the void whilst you’re between partners, but it’s not quite as easy as that. It’s the kind of thing you miss.
So you can take my articles apart all you like, sweets. You are only getting your fun because I allowed it and set you up for it. That is the part that seems to be causing the most noise. You want the moral high ground while using the access I gave you. You want to dissect my tone while sitting in a situation I built. That is not analysis. That is ungrateful editing. You, my little friend, are in my debt.
This is where the superiority bit comes in, and I am not going to pretend otherwise. I have been doing this longer. I have been writing the messy stuff longer. I have been the person who says the unspeakable and then lives with the fallout longer. You arriving with a degree girlfriend and a sudden appetite for taking my pieces apart does not make you the adult in the room. It makes you a friend who got a taste of the machine and decided the operator needed marking. Cute. But incorrect. I can be proud of your growth and still tell you when you are out of your depth. Those two things are not in conflict unless you need them to be.
No, I will never apologise. Not for the digs. Not for the screencap. Not for the article. Not for being proud of you and still telling you to sit down. Lol. Do your worst. Take the pieces apart. Quote me. Annotate me. Get the degree to help you with structure if that makes it feel more official. I will still be here.
The annoying thing is, I don’t even care who it is your spending time with, it could be a totally different guy, which I’m confident it is. I’m just really glad you’re having a bit of fun. You’re always so sad, so lonely and sometimes I get really worried about you. You don’t date, you don’t go out, and i get it, being restricted to the darkness and shadows must be horrible. I don’t care who you’re seeing, even if it’s an empty arrangement. You’re doing something that makes you happy. And that I’m happy for you, you’re finally taking notes off me. But bitch, carry on poking me, and we’ll be swinging arms. XD