The Rather Unfortunate Tragedies of a Womanizer

 

I never knew that my life would end this way. I always thought that I would die in a heroic matter and go down in history for being the most ravishing, drop dead gorgeous man that ever lived. Maybe I still will. But dangling from a sixteen story apartment building, clutching a Victorian gown tied to the leg of a stained(with God knows what), double-decker couch , my feet swinging over the heads of thousands of New Yorkers, I believe the front page will have a different headline. How on Earth did I get into this situation, you ask? I’m embarrassed to say it was one of the most idiotic mistakes of my entire life.

I attended a baby shower. And not just any baby shower. My second ex…Or was it third…sixth…I’ve seem to have lost track…anyway, my ex-wife’s baby shower. Who knows what I was thinking when I sent her the RSVP. Just as I clicked “send” I realized the horrid mess I just got myself into…the woman was mentally unstable…..and recently pregnant.

                                                                                          ∼

I arrived at her house four minutes after 5:00 pm making me fashionably late. Who throws a baby shower at 5:00 pm, anyway? Carrying the stuffed animal I had my butler, Julio, dig out of the Good Will bargain section, I tapped on the door. Not a second off beat, the wretch flung open the door and greeted me with open arms (not realizing that she was holding her baby). It let out a terrific screech (and so did she) as gravity pushed it down to the front porch. Being the hero and karate master that I am, I expertly lunged for the child, snatching it, before it could bash its head open on the welcome mat.

“OH MY GOD!” She screamed, “YOU SAVED LITTLE GERTRUDE!”

Gertrude. She named it Gertrude. I should have let the baby fall. It would be the biggest favour anyone could have ever done to the poor thing. Before I could pass “Gertrude” to my ex, she enveloped me in a suffocating bear trap hug which reminded me one of the reasons why we broke up. She tried to kill me using a bear trap after our honeymoon. Awkward. Peeling her off, I passed the baby into her arms and dropped the wore-down stuffed animal into Gertrude’s chubby hands.

“Oh Sebastian, you brought my tiny Ger-Ger a present, say thank you, Gertrude, go on, say it.” Her mouth started to curve downwards and her eyes began to flare a certain fury that I saw constantly throughout our marriage.

“Gertrude, you’re embarrassing me. SAY THANK YOU THIS INSTANT OR ELSE YOU’RE GROUNDED MISSY!” Gertrude let out a shrill shriek as I stared at the satisfied mother with horror.

“That’s more like it, come inside Sebastian, my all new vegan feast is ready and the guests are waiting.” She smiled.

Oh god, she’s a vegan now. I didn’t know it was possible for her to be less human.

All they had to eat was pasta. Instead of chips and other appetizers, there was pasta cut in different shapes, delicately positioned on dainty plates. Is that the only food that vegans eat? Pasta? Even Gertrude sucked on raw spaghetti. Oodles and oodles of, well, noodles. It made me reminisce about my childhood when every Sunday, my grandma made her special fettuccine and then Father would pass out drunk after dinner and Mother would begin sobbing in the living room. Fond memories.

After analyzing the carb filled feast, I noticed a man approaching me. He was wearing a glittery suit and his hair was a bleached blonde. It was like a fairy gave birth to an albino, and rather overly flamboyant 26 year old man.

“Hey girl, haiii! I didn’t expect you to be here. How’s my Sabby doing?”

Oh no. This was where I should have turned back. But I’m much too sophisticated to turn my back on the man that filled his pockets with glitter and every time someone said anything related to fashion, he would throw a fistful of sparkles in the air and shout, “PRADAAAAA!”

“Oh, hey Vic, yeah, I didn’t expect myself to show up either, but, uh, here I am.”Placing a hand on my shoulder he moved closer to me until our faces were 5 inches apart.

“Well, I’m happy you did, because you’re just as handsome as I remember.”Did I mention that he might have a crush on me? Because he has a crush on me. Politely moving his hand decorated with bedazzled rings, I tried to make my escape.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Listen, Vic, I don’t think I should really be here. It’s just not my crowd you know?” His drawn on eyebrows sprung up as if they were controlled by marionette strings.

“I’m soooo glad you think that, because I completely agree with you, HA-HA-HA, I know the perfect place for us to go.” Before I could protest, Vic pinched my arm and strut me to the door with him.

My ex realized we were leaving and rushed to the exit. “Gasp! Are you two leaving?!”

“Yes, girl, I’m allergic to mistakes,” Vic pointed at Gertrude. At that note, we left her house and entered Vic’s hot pink Volkswagen Beetle.

It took us 10 renditions of Britney Spears’, “Hit Me Baby One More Time” to reach our destination, and I only tried to break the window and roll into oncoming traffic twice.

“You’re gonna lovvee this club. I go here alllll the time,” Vic assured me.I hesitantly left his vehicle and we entered the club, “Tangy Man-go”. 

“Tangy Man-go”? Oh god. Just hearing the name, I know it’s going to be equivalent to a 13 year old girl’s dream club: Glitter, terrible music, unicorns, rainbows, dogs, disco balls, and cute boys.

I wasn’t wrong.

Streams of men and women adorned in neon coloured dresses, over sized glittery bow ties, horse masks, blue eye-shadow, and sweat danced furiously throughout the club. Bubbles poured from the ceiling and fog doused the floor. Vic had run off with some of his other friends and I recognized him ordering two mini watermelons filled to the brim with colourful vodka. I should have made a run for it…But then I saw her.

Sitting there by herself. Stirring a scotch and soda. The most bodacious creature I have ever seen in my life (other than myself, obviously). I felt my breath escape my lungs and the shivers that I felt when Gertrude almost plunged to her death returned to me, shaking my entire physique. She was wearing a simple royal blue cardigan and deep maroon jeans. Her hair was the colour of slightly toasted copper, baking in the sun’s heat. I need her. I know this is true love. I just feel it. I grabbed the nearest alcoholic drink near me and guzzled the entire cup.

Showtime.

She noticed my approach and I could tell I already dazzled her with my good looks. Next is charm and wit.

“Now, why is such a gorgeous, stunning, and mysterious woman doing in a gaudy, booze-filled, Alice in Wonderland glitter fest like this?”

The woman giggled, “I enjoy the atmosphere. Now, why is such a stunning, handsome, and mysterious man doing in a gaudy, booze-filled, Alice in Wonderland glitter fest like this? I’m Victoria Elizabeth, by the way.”

Score.

“I’m Sebastian. And I honestly, think that I died and this is some kind of crazy after-life, so, you must be my angel.” That was smoother than the wings of a slightly moist seagull, gliding above the salty ocean. Oh yeah. That smooth.

Victoria’s eyes started to glimmer and she reached across the table to touch my arm, “This place is getting loud. I want to continue our conversation, you intrigue me, let’s head over to my place.”

That was fast. As expected.

The last image I saw before we walked out the back door was Vic flailing his arms, sobbing, and mouthing the words to Beyonce’s, “Halo”.

We soon arrived at her building. It was sixteen stories high, right in the middle of New York. It was completely covered in mirrored glass so all you had to do was look straight at it and see the city stare back at you. She must be quite a wealthy gal to afford to live in a building like this.

We took the elevator up to the top floor and I sensed her analyzing my every move. When we made it to her flat, I could feel my anticipation grow as Victoria turned the knob.

Then I saw her apartment…It seemed as if she went to an interior design company and showed them a picture of the queen’s head-quarters. There was a gigantic chandelier looming over a long wooden dinner table able to fit fifteen people. Paintings of royalty were framed on the walls and Michelangelo statues were pasted at every corner.

“Come hither,” she literally cooed. I was a little distraught at her pigeon noises but I decided that it was just a quirk that she had and I shouldn’t take anything by it.

That was red flag number one. But I’ve been single for so long, (surprising I know), I didn’t want to miss my chance. So, I slid my shoes off and stepped onto the red velvet carpet, careful not to crush any of the pearls carefully placed along the edge of the room.

“Do thou hunger? It has been sore to scour for exotic birds and meats, so I hath found a modern type food that thou boil and slather in “tomato sauce,” she laughed and left the room.

What on earth did she just say? I didn’t know I needed a Shakespearean translator! But I believe she was describing pasta. What is it with people and pasta? I thought avocados were on the craze or someth- beside the point. Victoria’s voice was completely altered. It’s as if, when she entered her house she became the Queen of England.

Oh my god. That’s it.

This girl has some kind of illness that makes her believe that she’s living in the 19th century. I’ve been with crazy before but never this crazy. It never ends well. Despite my fondness for her, I can’t repeat my past. I slipped back into my shoes and tried to break for the door.

It wouldn’t open. There were multiple locks on the door. And not just your typical chain lock. There were bars, master locks, and steel chains. It was locked from the inside. This would have been the dream if she wasn’t a freaking nut job! She emerged from the kitchen and my heart nearly failed. Her hair was decorated with diamond clips, a large tiara sitting atop her head. Victoria’s face was powdered white with heavy red blush and bright cherry lips. She had a Tudor ruff around her neck and her mousy outfit was replaced with an elegant gown. Oh dear. What have I got myself into? She slowly and gracefully glided towards me and began gently (but forcefully) pushing me into the living room. It wasn’t as spectacular as the entrance but it still screamed, “I have so much money that I have no idea what to do with it, but I also have this quirk that makes me believe I’m royalty so all my funds go into making my apartment as pretentious as possible”.

“Hey, so Victoria, listen, you have a really nice place and I totally get this Shakespearean thing you have going on here but I’m not really into that because, you know, I’m a 21st century kind of guy, hah, so, I’m going to get goin-”

Before I could finish, she put a finger on my lips to silence me. “How thy tongue doth wag! Doth not fret, King Sebastian. I have now a husband, a king to name mine own. Aye, I have had others but they doth not compare to thy beauty. Thou shalt never abandon my chamber. Cometh!” She murmured and beckoned me to follow her into her bedroom or chamber or whatever.

“Um, uh, I willeth stayeth hereth for I needeth to, uh, maketh a phone calleth,” I stuttered.

I bet my Shakespearean just made William Shakespeare roll in his grave. But she seemed to understand because she nodded and floated out of the living room. Now’s my chance! I whipped out my phone only to reveal that I have no service. Drat! I examined the area to see if there’s some escape route I can take.

Aha! The window!

I rushed to the open airway only to realize that I’m in a sixteen story apartment building. After a minute of contemplation I noticed a small ledge on the 15th floor. Maybe if I find a way to jump to there, I could alert someone of my, uh, situation. After another scan, I found a long dress in a glass case in the corner of the room. After managing to remove it, I began tying it to the leg of the silky double-decker couch to create my make-shift rope.

And now I’m here. Dangling from a sixteen story apartment building, clutching a Victorian gown tied to the leg of a stained (with God knows what), double-decker couch, my feet swinging over the heads of thousands of New Yorkers. If only I listened to my brain and not my, uh, you know…. If only I didn’t go to that baby shower. Oh no, I can feel myself slipping. I tried to call out and reach the ledge but it was too late. And as I’m falling to my death, my final thoughts,

 “Did I leave the oven on?”

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