The Jilters

 1. The Money-Minded

London, ten years ago:

Sen_saven is about to have a (shaky) wedding and is frantically looking up England’s divorce laws:

• “What’s the deal man, why is it so bad for men?” he asks a friend at the pub.

• “Well, we had a woman prime minister (Thatcher) for so many years, what did you expect…”

• “I’ll get a prenup!”

• “Yeah, sure, go for a prenup,” a random nearby guy throws in. “The judge will tell you that your prenup looks absolutely marvelous, but everything’s gonna be split in HALF… I’m a lawyer, I see it every single day…”

• “At least you’re lucky,” sen_saven continues with his friend, “your wife makes more than you, so you won’t have a problem whatever happens…”

London, now

• “I’ve already given 45 grand to lawyers,” says the friend.

• “What? How?!” asks sen_saven, stunned.

• “Well, even just an email is £50, it adds up.”

• “But what’s she asking for? She makes more…”

• “Yeah, but from what everyone’s telling me, she’s probably attacking me just to protect her assets. Wants to crush me—financially, psychologically, everything.”

• (Yeah, and the fact she asked for a divorce right after you finished that ultra-luxury renovation on the country house that’s in her name, also must have something to do with it, thinks sen_saven…)

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2. The culturally inflexible

London, a year ago, third or fourth round at the pub:

• “Come on man, if that chick from the office came on to you, what would you do?” sen_saven teases a married friend.

• “I’d tell her, thanks, but I wouldn’t trade my wife for anything,” he answers, bowing his head while touching his wedding ring.

A few months ago:

• “Things aren’t going well,” the friend says.

• “What happened man?”

• “She wants me to go every Sunday with her to the church.”

• “So go, her family are priests, just give her that…”

• “Man, I even got baptized just to marry her…”

• “It’s fine, patience…”

• “She wants me at her parents’ every Sunday too…”

• “So go…”

• “They speak Arabic… and they even scold me for not having learned yet…”

Last Week:

• “How’s it going? You sorted things out with the priests and all?”

• “Yeah, we’re okay, I’ve already given £2.5k to the lawyer.”

• “Damn, you screwed us… (I wanted to go to that conference today, thinks sen_saven, maybe learn something and maybe even bump into that freaky girl who was fine with me cuddling her but didn’t want to kiss so I wouldn’t get the wrong impression… now I’ll just end up at the pub till 11 again).”

• “Yeah, didn’t want to tell you all this time… that’s why I wasn’t coming to drinks… I was a mess. Anyway, maybe I’ll save the house at least. I bought it before I married her, paid the mortgage myself, but it does count as a matrimonial asset… still, she hasn’t made any claim so far…”

• “Hopefully…”

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3. The Vindictress

First date, after a few drinks:

• “We both know, sen_saven, that I’m stronger than you, I do rock climbing and all.”

• “Great, let’s try some arm-wrestling on this car roof then…”

• “…Maybe try using both hands,” sen_saven suggests politely (there was no competition at all)…

• “No,” snaps the vindictress, pulling away from the roof, maybe annoyed.

A few weeks later:

• “I’m the one who dumps guys, the vindictress swerves.”

• “Cool, then maybe I should dump you first?”

• “No, I don’t know why I said that, it’s not like that… but, for some reason, my ex once showed up at my place without even telling me after I’d broken up with him…”

And, predictably, while they were planning where to go on holiday, the vindictress disappears…

• She said it and she did it, thinks sen_saven.

• “No, it’s all fine,” the vindictress reappears after a few days, sending cheerful messages.

• “OK, let’s grab a drink and see what’s up?” suggests sen_saven.

• The vindictress ghosts again.

• Damn, she’s a pro, thinks sen_saven… she managed to dump me twice in just a few days!!

• “No, we’re not done yet,” she comes back again. “We’re not going on holiday together… but let’s see how things go when I’m back.”

• Perfect, thinks sen_saven. So, let's go for one last dinner before she leaves, try whatever sexual things hadn’t gone for yet (not many left), and call it off amicably…

• “You know, sen_saven,” the vindictress starts after all of the above were finished, “why don’t we give it a real try again… it’s just two weeks, then we’ll be together all the time…”

• “ChatGPT is gonna be so pissed if I agree to this… it’s convinced you’re some sort of curse :)”

• “ChatGPT is vicious, listen to me, I’m a good girl, you’ll see…”

Just a week later, the vindictress pulls the ultimate dump—meets sen_saven, cooks for him, but makes it clear she’s actually repulsed.

• “What’s going on?” asks sen_saven.

• “Nothing,” insists the vindictress, “I’m just tired from the trip… leaving again tomorrow…”

“Let’s just break it off amicably, love is better than hatred” sends sen_saven in a 'mother Teresa' tipsy wall of text after yet another week of ghosting, just after the end of these two weeks:

• “‘Thanks for your message’” the vindictress replies formally (I have successfully applied all my dumping/"pull back" techniques here, nothing else to do)

• OK, soberly-speaking, I am no 'Mother Teresa' but at least you provided writing material & inspiration, thinks sen_saven.