They hadn't broadcast the news through social media posts yet. Which meant I was one of the privileged to hear it straight from her mouth. An honor normally reserved for close friends, right? Weird! You are probably thinking, "Bitch, what's weird about that?" Well, let me fucking enlighten you.
Many years ago this particular broad and I were very close. Close enough that I asked her to be in my wedding. To which she responded by dropping out of my life. No contact. No phone calls. No text messages. No emails. And I couldn't figure out what the hell had happened. I was stumped. I was hurt. And as time went on I was pissed. A mutual friend later filled me in that the ambitions of the broad's own soon-to-be husband lead to the end of our friendship. She was apparently too good to be associated with me. The couple of times I saw the broad in public, she stuck her nose in the air and walked the other way.
Fast forward many years later when she re-entered my life because Dickhead forced the issue. Having been childhood friends with her siblings, he wanted to hang out with them again and I had to go. I managed to blow off the first few get-togethers, but eventually I ran out of steam. Each time Dickhead returned from hanging out he'd lay it on thick how the broad asked about me and wanted to reach out to me, but didn't know how I would react. Well, I found out soon enough when I joined him at one of these little social events. I'll be fucking damned if she didn't run up and try to hug me, acting like we were long lost friends. Oh, twat waffle, not a good move. I stiff armed her, stopping her in her tracks. I don't do fakey-fake shit. With my first snarky comment Dickhead pulled me aside and told me to behave. By the time we left the inside of my cheeks were raw from biting them to keep my mouth shut.
Since that time I've managed to avoid the twat for the most part. But some occasions come up where I simply can't. She's gotten less annoying, but each attempt she has made to get close has resulted in me stonewalling her. Now why would I do that? Because the cunt hasn't attempted to discuss what the fuck went down. She hasn't apologized for abandoning someone she called a "best friend". If that's her version of being a best friend, she has a long way to go. First step would be graduating from that elementary school mindset.
This leads to the rest of my awkward conversation regarding the baby news. The twat proceeds to tell me the name she has picked out. Wait for it.....COTTON! Yes, Cotton. As in Cotton Ball, Cotton Schwab. Cotton. What an awful name. I can't stop hearing the lyrics "Where did you come from, where did you go? Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?" You're welcome by the way, for me getting that stuck in your head. Then the double whammy comes. "I want the middle name to be your name". Bitch say what?!? I couldn't stop myself. "First, why the hell would you name your child something that kids are going to make fun of? Do you want to scar your kid for life? Second, you are obviously one delusional bitch if you think naming your kid after me is a good idea. We aren't good enough friends for that honor. You destroyed that a long time ago. Naming your child after me isn't going to bring that back. Pull your head out of your ass." Silence. Awkward silence. "Congratulations on the pregnancy though." *click* The dial tone in my ear was the indicator that my message was heard loud and clear. Maybe not received, but heard.
Do I feel like an asshole? Not really. Should I? That's debatable. What is absolute though, is that I can hold my head high that I'm not a fake Bitch.