I don't work in the city, I don't do suits. I don't do office drama and drunken Friday night shenanigans with the girls from abc bank/lawyers/brokers.
It is not my scene. Just never has been.
On Friday I was reminded why.
I went into town to join a mate for drinks of the Friday evening office worker type.
On arrival she greeted me with a smile and warm kiss. The sort of kiss in a crowd that says, he is mine ladies so back off.
That is fine, I already knew she was coming home with me so I was more than happy to be owned.
The real sport was in watching a Billy Zane wanna-be get shot down by a bunch of women for being a cheating twat.
You see Billy is engaged, all but one of the girls knew this and the rest were manoeuvring like reef sharks. The girl who didn't know this little detail had been picked up by Billy earlier in the night at another bar. Foolishly he bought his trophy with him to this gathering of friends and acquaintances.
Now there are some simple things about cheating that you learn early in life.
1) you will probably get caught.
2) among women, a cheating man may as well have the pox.
3) among boys, a cheating man is just as likely to be hung out to dry just for the sport of cutting his grass.
The simple solutions are, don't cheat or do it in private. All other options will lead to pain.
Billy must have been a slow learner. The sharks were circling.
The first one darted in for a taste.
"So have you known Billy long?" an innocent smile asked.
I squirmed for Billy, there was blood in the water.
"Do you know him through Julie?"
Ouch. The colour started to drain from his face.
"Um no, Who is Julie?" Billy's mark enquired.
"Oh...no one. Billy can explain." as she backed away.
Billy squirmed. Panic was starting to show in his eyes.
I sat back and got comfortable with drink in hand and wondered how he would escape the inevitable.
Sure enough, another shark, emboldened (or is that embalmed) by cocktails started circling. She had that look that said that if he was going to cheat on his fiancée then it should be with her not that new slapper he just met.
"So what is your fiancée doing tonight? Why isn't Julie here?" the razor sharp teeth gnashed.
"You have a fiancée?" her voice boomed as all nearby conversation lulled.
Like a grenade had been lobbed into the room, people started to dive for cover. There was no etiquette of women and children first, this was a full scale, every man for himself abandon ship.
A few of us sat there transfixed, ready to run but not going to miss a moment. It was the proverbial train wreck.
The interloper stood and straightened her skirt. It was a motion that tried to scream dignity and poise. The shark started to smirk showing teeth like great white. Billy looked around the room for support and found his friends deep in hushed conversation or the tourists like me grinning back like idiots. There was no support. He was a dead man walking.
She turned on one 3.5 inch heel and walked without a word. Billy followed like a scolded puppy dog. Leaving his jacket and manbag.
Like a wave rushing up the beach, conversation resumed but not soon enough to cover the strangled "Just fuck off!" from the street.
We giggled like children at poor Billy. What a tool.
The last shark to have a nibble, grabbed a serviette, scribbled a note and thrust it into his jacket pocket. She would not say what was on it - I can only guess it was either her number or a note to his fiancée....we may never know.
Billy slunk back in. Tail between his legs. The girls all cheered and raised their glasses. Billy sneered, called them cunts and left. They cheered again.
My girl snuggled into my neck and chuckled that there was nothing like front row seats for Friday night theater. I had to agree.
It was all rather funny if you weren't Billy.