You’re still hot, you know that?

That’s bull. You’re drunk.

No I’m not … I gave up

You stopped drinking?? No way, I don’t believe you

Seriously, you read it in my book. I had to stop. It was killing me. The occasional glass of wine but I don’t touch beer any more, or spirits.

Okaaay, ….  but why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep telling me these things?

Because I still think of you


Because, well, because I loved you and you broke my heart. I haven’t forgotten.

That’s bull too. You didn’t love me. You were married. I was just for playing.

That’s not fair

Of course it’s bloody fair … we dated for FOUR MONTHS and you never thought it was important to tell me you were married! You call that fair? You call that respect??

It wasn’t important!

Of COURSE it was f*cking important!! It was important to ME! I was 20 and was falling in love with you. I can’t believe that you still don’t get that!

But I loved you too, so I don’t get why you took it so personally.

Because it’s lies. Because if you’d loved me you would have found it in you to tell me something as fundamental as the fact that you were bound to someone else by law …. and BECAUSE WE COULDN’T BE TOGETHER!!! YOU. WERE. MARRIED!

We could have been together, but you just got a bee in your bonnet and buggared off

Oh, right, yes. I forgot. We could have been together when she was on night-shift… where you were home alone and twiddling your thumbs. Fabulous. And on all other nights, I could just put up and shut up.

But what’s wrong with that? I didn’t love her any more. The relationship was over!

But it wasn’t over was it! Not for her. You were still living together … still sharing the same bed! Even you admitted that afterwards.

Yeah, but nothing ever happened. Because the relationship was over! But you just went cold on me. Never gave me a chance! You just quit and left!

And you never asked yourself why? Now let me think….  why might I have taken offense ….. perhaps at finding out from our LANDLADY – my BOSS! that the woman standing at the bar, idly chatting to me while I pulled her drink, was YOUR WIFE!!!! I joked merrily with her, while you stood 6 feet away laughing with your mates. You knew she was there, talking to me, that we were chatting, that I had no idea …. that SHE had NO IDEA!

But I thought you knew!

Darling, how the frick could I know. You didn’t tell me and your mates sure as hell didn’t…. they all just sat back and watched the show! Even the bar-staff kept stumm until the whole thing got just a little bit waaaay too uncomfortable. Mrs Landlady-my-boss had to take me out the back and explain!! And I had to go back in there, smile sweetly at your wife, act as if nothing had happened and pull the rest of her fecking drink!!

Sweetheart, it was so long ago, why are you getting so het up??


Because you humiliated me. In front of my boss. You humiliated me in front of the whole pub. You humiliated me by not caring about my feelings. At all. In the slightest. While I did care… a lot actually. for you.

And now, here you are again … 2 wives and 20 years later, you looked for me. And found me. And you want to play. With me. Again.

You asked me to do some work for you. I did that. You paid fairly and promptly. Thank you. You flirted with me by text. By email. I capped that by asking you to treat me with some respect. You sulked and went away. You came back… a year later… copying me on funny emails you were sending to your friends. Until one day I laughed out loud and, without thinking, I responded. You said that had been your intention. To persist until I laughed enough to respond. You got what you wanted. Again.

You said you had written a book. You asked me to read it and give you my opinion. I was cautious. When I asked why, you said that you valued my interlect and respected my honesty. You trusted me to ‘say it like it is’. After 20 years, out of all the friends and famous people you have come to know and esteem along the way, you chose me, to proofread the most personal thing in your life….

I said I would. I read your book. Every last page. It sucked me in and spat me out. I was hooked, from the first page. Not only was it well written, it was like cutting you open and seeing a whole new world inside. A whole new you. A you  I had no notion of. It was a you who inspired me, who warmed me and who desperately needed a love such as I have to give. Yes, really, I felt this was someone I could fall in love with all over again, if I wasn’t careful. But then it was ok, you pulled me back yourself as, between all of that, were smatterings of the you who hurt me, the you who doesn’t care about anyone but himself, a you who thinks the world owes him something back and that it is his right to just take from any woman he chooses, in the manner he chooses and as and when he chooses. Yes, it’s usually the women in your life who cop it for the way life mistreated you. I hear that and, now I’ve read your story, I hear why. I am genuinely sorry for what you have been through. You have led one seriously fucked up life. I just resent playing the scapegoat, in whatever dose. I’m not to blame for what happened before or after me. I just took the clubbed end of your cynicism… of your icy cold, hard-wearing shoulder and of your refusal to open up fully, despite floundering around like a duck in oil, desperate to be fished out of the mire. Instead you pushed me away with your crass jokes and relentless sexual innuendo … you wanted it all. I felt cheap. You were the Alpha male. You were masterful. You could do that to me. And you did.

So here we are again. 2 decades later. Back and forth, back and forth. A text here. An email there. And now pictures. Pictures of you … but always of you the hero. You the powerful, professional, successful Alpha male.

And the messages: I am still in love. I still have it with you … I still want you.

drawing me in against all resolve, but followed, without fail the next day, by the simple message ‘I was drunk’ ‘Oh dear, just ignore anything I wrote. I’d had a couple.’ … and then weeks of nothing.

Until the next time:

You’re still hot, you know that?

That’s bull. You’re drunk.

No I’m not … I gave up

You stopped drinking?? No way, I don’t believe you ….


This morning, the picture came with the one-liner … ‘sobered up and back in the air’

My text back: Didn’t you say you were on the wagon these days?

His response: I lied.

My response: Right.



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10 Responses to L’Incendie

  1. christinemosler says:

    You are amazing. Your writing is fantastic. You deserve so much more than a man like this. I have more to say on this and will be back tomorrow, am shattered tonight. xxx

  2. Ally says:

    *Hugs* That is all. xx

  3. JulieB says:

    Wow. Amazing post.
    Emotional baggage doesn’t begin to cover it.

    • On all counts I think. He’s a lovely person. It’s his way of dealing with what life lobbed at him. I can’t blame him for that. Many would not have survived.
      Thanks for the comment xx

  4. Wow … I think he’s what you call toxic!
    Hug xx

  5. Yes you are absolutely right. There are many different meanings to the word and all of them fit.
    Thanks for taking the time to read and thanks for the hug x

  6. fleetwoodboy says:

    who is this shit ???? OMG I am so lucky in life .

    • Not a shit, just disillusioned. He’s looking for that ‘thing’ that can make him happy and hasn’t found it yet. I think there are many of us out there who haven’t. It makes me really happy to hear you say how lucky you feel. It means that it is possible – and happiness couldn’t have happened to a lovelier person .. you deserve every last drop! :-) x

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