Fat Bastard & His Poisonous Ways

Mood: Pissed Off

I haven’t blogged about Fat Bastard for a very long time. But in light of the exceptionally bad behaviour on display by him and his mentally disturbed fiancé over the weekend, I am in need of a very good venting.

The history behind Fat Bastard and I goes like this – boy meets girl, boy dates girl, girl leaves boy after finding out boy wasn’t as single as girl was led to believe, girl hates boy, girl tries to forget boy, girl moves on, boy calls girl months later, girl lets boy back into girl’s life, girl gets burnt by boy again, girl hates boy even more, years later girl finally forgives boy, girl lets boy back into girl’s life (again) and girl gets incinerated by boy.

Yes, so we met through mutual friends, we dated, and we split when I found out that I wasn’t in a mutually exclusive relationship with him. I moved on, but he came back for a second bite of the cherry, and I let him. Disgusted with myself afterwards, I trash talked him through years of hatred. I eventually forgave him and myself and started talking to him again, only be drawn into yet another web of lies and I wound up with a broken heart and messed up ego, again.

In early March this year, I told Fat Bastard about my blog. We met up for a drink, as friends, and talked through a number of issues. At the time, to complete my circle of recovery, I thought I needed to be completely honest with him, so I told him about a number of not-so-flattering entries relating to him in my blog. He was keen to read them, so I told him where to look but only after he agreed to remain calm at all times during his review. I also repeatedly reminded him that I was upset when I wrote the entries.

He broke his promise and flew off the handle. He told me that what I wrote was tantamount to libel and that the paper-thin disguise I gave him was a pathetic attempt to hide his identity. By calling him Fat Bastard, I may as well have flown over Sydney in an airship with his face plastered all over it, announcing to the world that he and Fat Bastard were one and the same.

I was crushed. For the longest time, I held on to a belief that Fat Bastard was someone special, someone I wanted to keep in my life, someone worthy of my time. I spent the next couple of months grovelling and apologising, hoping to be forgiven for allowing him to read my diary. In no uncertain terms, he asked me to remove those entries, to which I stupidly and blindly complied. I even posted a public apology as a follow up.

This proved to be the end for us. There was no going back. There wasn’t even a remote chance of salvaging some form of friendship. Fat Bastard and I were over. End of story.

In all the time I’ve known Fat Bastard, I’ve also know of S, his childhood sweetheart. They dated for 10 years before splitting for good at the beginning of this year. I had never officially met S – I’d heard about her and seen her a few times at social gatherings. Over the last 4 years, I grew an intense dislike for S, not because S is a horrible person, but because I chose to believe the fat lies that Fat Bastard fed to me about S.

When Fat Bastard and I first started dating, he told me that he had just ended a long-term relationship. He assured me that the relationship was over, and was ready to enter into something with me. As it turned out, the whole time Fat Bastard was dating me, he was still seeing S. I became suspicious of S’s presence, and Fat Bastard explained it away with "She’s been in my life for a long time and I want to remain friends with her". I was told I had to deal with it, so I tried my best to be understanding.

At the time, S too became suspicious about my presence. When S no doubt questioned Fat Bastard about me, he explained me away with the fattest lie of all. That I was stalking Fat Bastard.

Worse still, it was communicated to me that S was calling me names and branding me a stalker in public. Fat Bastard relished in the drama of my increasing loathing towards S based on his repeated reminders that S hated me. Lies, lies and more lies. And he loved it. Not only did he infect S and me with poisonous words about the other, he managed to create an illusion to the rest of our group of mutual friends that S and I were tripping over each other fighting over him. Talk about having tickets on himself.

Things may well have turned out differently for everyone if Fat Bastard hadn’t met Special K, the aforementioned mentally disturbed fiancé. They met earlier this year when Special K advertised for a flatmate. Fat Bastard moved into the house and they started dating almost straight away. Within 5 months of dating, Fat Bastard and Special K were engaged.

It was a bit of a shock to me, as Fat Bastard had always been against marriage. Earlier this year, prior to meeting Special K, he also told me that one of the main reasons he and S broke up was because S was pushing for marriage, and he knew he would never marry, so he had to let her go; set her free. So when I found out Fat Bastard was getting married, to someone he’d known for 5 minutes, my heart went out to S, even though I’d never met her and I still held a belief that she hated me.

On Saturday night, I finally officially met S. And I kicked myself for not having the courage to meet her sooner.

S is lovely. She’s funny, friendly and outgoing, exactly the kind of person I would enjoy spending time with. It was awkward for the first couple of minutes, but we soon chatted like long lost friends.

A mutual friend was hosting his birthday bash in the city on Saturday night. S and I were both invited, as were Fat Bastard and Special K. I arrived at the party first, followed by S. By the time Fat Bastard and Special K arrived, S and I had become fast friends.

I chose to stay out of Fat Bastard’s way, but we still managed to bump into each other. He was civilised and we exchange muted greetings before walking away. I saw Special K from afar, but was never introduced to her. Nor did I want to be.

Everyone seemed to be having a great time, but I couldn’t help but notice that at various points of the evening, Fat Bastard and Special K seemed ill-at-ease and chose to sulk in a corner and talk between themselves instead of joining in the party.

Whereas I kept my distance, my best mate Emily spent a fair chunk of the evening talking Fat Bastard and Special K. I will never understand why she does what she does. She said she "needed to appear to be strategically friendly" with Fat Bastard. If only I knew what that meant, then I might not feel like she is somehow betraying our friendship.

Meanwhile, I spent a fair bit of time talking to S at the party, and the more I talked to her, the more I was kicking myself for thinking she was anything else but a lovely person. S’s date, G was equally lovely and we shared many laughs throughout the evening.

Towards closing time at the pub where the party was, we were asked to move from our bar to another bar on the ground floor. As S and I were about to move, Special K barged her way through the very small gap between S and I and mumbled something along the lines of "move out of my way, midgets". Granted, S and I are both around the 5’3" mark – we can’t help being normal height. At nearly 6′, Special K was the freakishly tall person amongst us, but that didn’t give her the right to be nasty to people she’d never met, nor was it a free pass for her to drop her shoulder and hip into me to push me out of the way.

I chose not to let it bother me, and continued to the ground floor bar to have another drink. By this time, the body was getting more and more weary, and at 1am, I called it a night. I bade farewell to S and G and Em, who was originally going home with me but chose to stay on with the party, and went off in search of the birthday boy. A big hug and a kiss later, I was on my way home.

I was to find out over the course of Sunday and Monday what happened after I left.

At the next venue, Fat Bastard and Special K targeted S and displayed some incredibly appalling behaviour. Fat Bastard caught up with S and asked her why she was at the party, when the guest of honour was his friend and S had no right to be there. S countered that the birthday boy was also her friend, and she was extended a personal invitation to the party. Heated words were exchanged before Fat Bastard slunk back to a corner and continued to sulk.

Special K went one step better. With a drink in her hand, she approached S and proceeded to empty the contents of the glass all over S. For S, it was a complete surprise as 1) Special K was a stranger to her – they had never met, and 2) the action seemed to be condoned by a man she loved for 10 years. As if that wasn’t enough, Special K then took a swing at S, who fortunately missed the flying fist. Unfortunately, another friend, L, ended up copping the blow and left the pub with a black eye, utterly disgusted by Fat Bastard and Special K’s behaviour.

Amazingly, the bouncers did nothing to eject Special K, which left her and Fat Bastard with more time to plan the next assault.

Sure enough, Special K came back for Round 2. This time, she had another full drink in her hand which she threw all over S, with a large amount landing on Emily. Special K took another swing, this time connecting with S’s head. Some pushing and shoving ensued and the entire party was eventually ejected. S was understandably upset and shaken, and went home with her own black eye.

Round 3 continued on Sunday, when Fat Bastard sent S an SMS, telling her he hoped she had learned a lesson from the previous night, and that S should know by now that she was not f@#%ing welcome at future gatherings.

No, dude, you are the one that is no longer f@#%ing welcome at future gatherings. Too many people either saw or heard what happened, and your actions, along with those of your crazy fiancé’s have rendered the two of you persona non grata.

Did it irk Fat Bastard to see S having a good time? Did it make him feel all horrid and twisted inside to see that S wasn’t a wasted wreck of a human being that he had predicted she would turn into when he dumped her? Instead, appearing in front of him was one gorgeous and confident young woman whose date spent the evening fawning over her. One he can never be with again.

I can only surmise that it almost killed Fat Bastard to see S had moved on and was looking better than ever. He may have had delusions of grandeur that she would completely fall apart without him, but even Blind Freddy could see that she was much better off without him.

I too am better off without him. For so long, Fat Bastard fed me lies – how he felt, what S allegedly said about me, how S allegedly felt about me. I believed the poison he fed me. And that’s what it was – poison. No doubt he’s been feeding Special K the same brand of poison, only this time, the poison had a different effect, which saw Special K launch herself at an innocent S, someone Special K has never met and knew nothing about.

So, as a parting shot, I dedicate Alice Cooper’s "Poison" to you, Fat Bastard. You are poison. May your actions continue to speak louder than words, so that everyone may see your true colours.

Your cruel device
your blood, like ice
One look, could kill
My pain, your thrill…

I wanna love you but I better not touch
I wanna hold you, but my senses tell me to stop
I wanna kiss you but I want it too much
I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison
Your poison running through my veins
Your poison
I don’t wanna break these chains.

Your mouth, so hot
Your web, I’m caught
Your skin, so wet
Black lace, on sweat

I hear you calling and it’s needles and pins
I wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name
Don’t wanna touch you but you’re under my skin
I wanna kiss you but your lips are venomous poison
Your poison running through my veins
Your poison
I don’t wanna break these chains.

Running deep inside my veins
Posion burning deep inside my veins

One look, could kill
My pain, your thrill…

I wanna love you but I better not touch
I wanna hold you, but my senses tell me to stop
I wanna kiss you but I want it too much
I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison
Your poison running through my veins
Your poison
I don’t wanna break these chains.

Poison…

I wanna love you but I better not touch
I wanna hold you, but my senses tell me to stop
I wanna kiss you but I want it too much
I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison
Your poison running through my veins
Your poison
I don’t wanna break these chains.

Poison.

Advertisements

One response to “Fat Bastard & His Poisonous Ways

  1. Oh my goodness!!! Hugs to you (and S)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s