Ruminator – Part 3

Click on the links for the previous posts:

Part 1

Part 2

I was at Fatboy’s Cafe…with you know…a couple of Fat Boys. Too much beer I guess. I took a big sip from my pitcher and wondered how long my liver would withstand this nonsense.

Randy, the bartender & I were now on friendly terms…on account of me having made this place my second…I mean third home. I checked my phone to see if there were any messages. know…anyone…

Nada. Zilch. I was all alone. No mail in my mailbox. No text in my inbox. No friends. No Family. Nothing.

A normal person would have felt sorry for themselves I guess but I was past that.

A simple choice lay before me. I could continue to go down this path…and well…it would end badly or I could choose to get off this now…like today…and get a bit of normalcy back.

Normal. I didn’t like the sound of it. No, normal me was boring. Normal me would wake up in a bad mood, have a cup of coffee, rush to get ready in the morning…spend the entire day navigating through loads of BS at work, mentally kill my boss and colleagues at least three times, come back home, hit the gym and run till I couldn’t move and then collapse on my bed with some take out food and Netflix.

Normal me.

I took a deep breath. I impatiently tapped on my phone to find a phone of the one. Yeah…the one that got away. Not my ex. Or the one before him.

I deleted that photo. I deleted his number. And then I regretted it. But it had to be done.

I ordered a second round of beer, ignoring Randy’s disapproving look.

I wrote a long mail to my father telling him we were done and I never wanted to see his face again. Judge me all you want…he’d been an asshole of a parent and I was better off without him. I’d stopped getting angry at him. I was at a stage of indifference.

I wrote a mail to my HR, telling her I would be joining back in two weeks. Two weeks. I felt a bit scared. I didn’t know if I was ready to head back into the big, bad world just yet. Well…only time would tell.

Lastly, I called up Cheryl.

“I was wondering when you would call. Where are you?”


After half an hour she walked in, looking stern.

“You look like shit.”

“Do not!” I spluttered as I put my glasses back on to hide my dark circles.

She smiled and sat down beside me.

Randy looked at me and scowled, “Another one of your drunken friends?”

I scowled back with equal ferocity,”Shut up and do your job.”

He grinned at me and looked at Cheryl,”She’s my favorite so far. I’d even ask her out if she’d clean up her act.”

Cheryl snorted. “She’s fucking crazy. Don’t do it.”

Both of them grinned at each other. I scowled, pretending to be annoyed where as I was secretly pleased to know that at least two people in this God Damn world cared.

“So tell me…what’s been going on?” Cheryl spoke to me, her voice unnaturally gentle. I sniffed.

I looked at her and shook my head,”No, I won’t whine anymore. I just want you to know I’m sorry for being this way but..”

“I know honey!” Cheryl interrupted me.” I know I have been harsh…I’m sorry. I’m there for you.”

She gave my hand a tiny squeeze and to my horror, I felt a lump in my throat. Both of us sat there in silence…me – drinking my beer and her – squeezing my hand and teasing me about Randy.

After a long time, I smiled and I realized…I didn’t like being alone. No…it kind of sucked.

Over and out.




Ruminator – Part 2

For part one – click here.

I woke up with a very, very bad headache.

I cursed my self, my foolishness, the bartenders who had served me, my new friends who seemed to have nothing else in the world to do except drink, my ex – husband for not being an asshole and making me feel guilty for breaking off my marriage, my ex – boyfriend who was an asshole and my ex – ex boyfriend who was the love of my life and had never reciprocated my love…

Yeah, it was a pretty long list and that was just the beginning.

I walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. No water, as expected. Beer. Tons of it. And some old bread. And oh – milk.

I scratched my head. When the hell did I buy milk? I looked at the milk carton, trying to fathom how something healthy had made its way into my fridge.

I checked the expiry date to make sure it wasn’t outdated like…you know…my misery and took a swig. After I downed half a carton, I realised I was feeling nauseous so I rushed to the bathroom to you know…puke my guts out.

A couple of weeks ago, Cheryl my ex – bestie would have been there, holding my hair back as she always did.

But we’d had a fight.

She’d told me to ‘get over my self’ and ‘stop whining’ and ‘life sucks, accept it and move on’. While she might have been right, I wasn’t in the mood to hear what I already knew so I just walked out of my house…yeah I know – what is it with me walking out of my house you know….good I have two of them….

So! I walked, in my usual buzzed state to my other house…this one actually…and since then I’d avoided contact with any familiar faces for fear of pissing them off.

Yeah, I know I sound like a loser but you know what? I don’t care.

I was pissed and hurt and angry and I wanted to fucking dwell on my misery and feel sorry for my self till there was nothing else to do except move on. I wasn’t ready to move on quite yet.

It was 12 PM. Great. I could go over to Joey’s Pizza for you know…pizza and then by 2 PM Happy Hours would start at Fatboy’s cafe which was my new haunt and I was sure I’d find a couple of my new alcoholic friends to spend time with.

Come to think of it, life wasn’t that bad. I mean – look at me. I was young, attractive, rich, I could eat a million carbs and never put on weight, I could make friends wherever I went…yeah…life was good.

I brushed my teeth, washed my face, rolled my hair into a bun, put on my sunglasses, my jeans and a new linen shirt and breezed out of my house into the God – Damn sunlight.

It felt good to be alive.

To be continued

Ruminator – Part 1

Ruminator. That’s what my bestie…or rather, ex – bestie called me. I liked the sound of it. It kind of rhymed with Terminator. Made me feel bad ass.

I took a swig of beer from bottle number…who knew? I looked over to the left, there was somebody in my bed. I really couldn’t remember who. But he snored which meant that I was out of there. I had a hazy idea of how he landed up there.

NO. I didn’t invite him over. You see, me and a couple of my…my drinking buddies (for lack of a better word) were hanging out. This guy, he said…he wanted to piss so all of us stopped at my place since it was the closest and then carried on to the next bar down the lane…I guess he was so drunk that he passed out on my bed.

Leaving my own apartment to run away from a snorer? Yeah well, I live in a fancy, studio apartment which didn’t have anything precious unless he decided to wreck it while leaving…

I chewed on my lip, scribbled a ‘let yourself out’ note, grabbed my keys and walked out. To where? To my other house which was around twenty minutes away on foot. So I decided to walk. I wasn’t drunk enough not to walk.

Yeah yeah…call me a spoilt, rich daddy’s girl. I wasn’t any of that. I hated my dad and all I had, was from my own hard work. I was a lawyer, currently on sabbatical following a very nasty divorce but hell, I was loving it.

My ex – husband’s house was ten minutes away. God, I hated his guts. He actually had the gall to tell me he still loved me. I’m pretty sure that he did.

I walked slowly, taking an occasional swig from the bottle. He did but it wasn’t of any use. You see, I was damaged goods by the time he & I had started dating.

Yes, I was.

I hadn’t realized that till after the shotgun wedding but anyway…I was home. I wearily climbed into bed and before I knew it, I was asleep.

To be continued…