You know, I was once chased down a road- while driving- by a soon to be ex-boyfriend who was foaming at the mouth slightly and screaming, ‘Stop that fucking car you bitch! You better fucking pull over! I’m warning you!’
Pull over? As my beloved daughter might say, ‘lolziees!’
I put it in third and vroomed away.
Many years have passed since that hilarious and fateful night, a night I came fully to my senses, and boy oh boy was I ever glad I kicked that puppy to the curb. Love might well be a mysterious thing, but bullies are bullies, and bitter is a fine drink on a warm day in Yorkshire.
But still, the memory remains. As memories must.
What, dear readers, do we imagine the bride might feel upon reading this passive aggressive piece? hum? Love lost? Bitter sweet memories?
Or will she slap the metaphorical gear stick into third and speed away?
Yeah, I guessed that too.