The Way We Were

Dave McDowell 05/12/2019 8comments  |  Jump to last
Just before your summer holidays, say 5 years back, your missus says "I'm leaving you but not immediately, I'm moving in with some fella about 30 miles away but I'll go in a few months."

Shell-shocked, you agree; couple of months go by, seeing her everyday, she says "I can't wait to move, my new guy's an upgrade on you, more money, more successful." But you're a decent fella, you bite your tongue, you even wish her well on the day she finally leaves.

A month later, she comes on the phone: "I want the dog and the cat." You're confused: "That dog and cat deserve to be in a better place than with you, I want them."

You love that dog and cat. Regrettably, you let the cat go but somehow hold on to the dog, he's a loyal dog.

Anyway, the months go by… you realise after 11 years together your missus didn't really bring anything to the relationship for a long time; it was stale. You kick yourself – you should have split up at least 4 years earlier.

Some years go by, you have a couple of relationships, some you thought were serious – that Dutch bird… but she turned out to be a money-grabber. The fling you had at Christmas luckily just an expensive mistake. She was boring in the sack anyway.

You'd heard way back that your ex-missus got kicked out by her new fella, deep down you smirked. Last you knew, she'd moved to Spain.

Life hadn't been so bad since she left. You'd come into a bit of money through an unexpected windfall and you're thinking about moving to a brand new house, somewhere with a cracking riverside view.

Unfortunately, your latest squeeze hasn't worked out: promises made, not kept, communication issues, decent lass, just not as expected.

Out of the blue, you get a call: it's the ex-missus "How you doing, be great if we catch up, I've really missed you, my head wasn't in a great place when we split and too be fair I guess we were both to blame. Let's meet up for a drink."

You're thrown; what the hell? She played me like a fiddle at the end, she can go to hell. But you've got some problems at work, you might be demoted. She was always good in the early days at getting you through the tough times at work. Maybe her turning up is kismet. I could do with some companionship, some support.

You meet for the drink, talk about the good old days, you remember all those fancy expensive restaurants you went to, never got the meal you wanted, laugh at the good times had at the chippies and burger bars.

She says she'd never have left you if you'd treated more like a Princess, gave her more money to spend… in some ways, it was more your fault she left than hers. She complains you only took her on holiday to Europe once.

You go home together, few drinks, one thing leads to another and you end up in bed together.

You wake up in the morning, look over, and think about last night, think about what's just happened. You were drunk but, my god, that sex was boring, workmanlike, nothing new, passive. You remember the previous times you had sex and how often you fantasised it was with someone else.

After breakfast, you say you've got an appointment elsewhere. She leaves, saying "Call me, that was great, we were always a great match."

You close the door, lean against it, bang your head on it and say "Fucking close call, that!!!"

Reach for your phone, smile… chuckle even; open up Tinder and move on.

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Reader Comments (8)

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Steve Ferns
1 Posted 05/12/2019 at 17:39:53
Dave, that was brilliant. Appreciate the effort you spent on that, the humour and the message is spot on.
Jay Wood

2 Posted 05/12/2019 at 17:47:18
Top drawer, Dave.

Anything to alleviate the tedium of the Long Goodbye.

John Keating
3 Posted 05/12/2019 at 18:58:33
Nice one Dave. Very apt

Like the young bird down the road. Heard she was good in the sack. Been around a bit. Had a fella in Hull and one down in Watford and been booted out by both lads.

You couldn't believe it. She's young, good looking in a latin type way and you can't wait to get to grips even though she's stringing you along a bit

Finally, after spending a few bob on her she moves in.
After a while you realise looks aren't everything. You completely understand why those two lads in Hull and Watford binned her.

You realise you've got to bin her quick before any little ones come along so finally you just tell her straight. It's not working she has to go.
Before she leaves though she wants a pay off. It's worth every penny in order to send her on her way.

You close the door, lean against it, bang your head on it and say " Fucking close call that !!!"
Reach for your phone, smile, chuckle even; open up Tinder and move on.

Alexander Murphy
4 Posted 05/12/2019 at 20:26:51
Bravo Dave.

Brilliant and accurate.

Tindr it is !

A few bevvies first tho with My good mate, Big feller from north of the border. He takes no shit.

Dave McDowell
5 Posted 06/12/2019 at 11:30:28
Many thanks guys, gallows humour seems to be the default on the roller coaster ride of supporting Everton.
Dave Evans
6 Posted 06/12/2019 at 13:11:35
Great read, Dave.

You must try not to be tempted by a mercenary in a red dress residing in the far east.

Jerome Shields
7 Posted 06/12/2019 at 16:33:10
Very Good Dave, I am sure many can relate to the story and absurdity of real life as it unfolds. Seems to parallel my relationship with Everton.
John Nugent
8 Posted 07/12/2019 at 10:42:19
The funniest and cleverest analogous article I've read on TW for years.

Thank you, Dave.

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