I usually don’t suffer fools gladly. Except, this fool was bearded, listened to Wild Beasts and well, at first he seemed really, properly lovely.

So yeah, I suffered fool.

I saw the signs, I ignored them. I heard the alarm bells, I played deaf.

The man was a bitch.

Sure, I’ve heard of them before. I’ve seen them, out and about, being all sarcastic and “cool.” They’re just like those Sweet Valley High girls from private all girls high school who wear the fragrance of Aloof & Unapproachable with finesse.

Bitch isn’t a word I throw around willy nilly, oh no.

In my defence, it was easy to fall under The Dupe. Bitchy boy, aka Mancow, is a strikingly handsome, successful guy with a magnetic personality that seems to paralyse women and men alike into a revoltingly embarrassing stupor, one that has fans wilting at his feet. Raised well, kind to the homeless, soft spoken and intelligent… did I mention strikingly handsome?

Slowly…surely, it became clear. Our friendship was all about me bestowing compliments and gushes of love and garlands of recognition. Oh, and I was only too happy to do so.

Because you know, its all fun and games until the fun and games stop. Ie: when you overhear Mancow speaking about your friends, or people who can’t elevate his popularity.

Sadly there are many Mancows wandering these plains, I am told. Men who never really have to worry about the gritty real friendships you slog at day in and day out for rewards that come their way for free anyway.

So here I am, reflecting on the hilarity of it all and vowing to appreciate my nerdy, dorky, ridiculously true friends even more, with well-placed and reciprocated grandiose and terribly uncool displays of affection.

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