I Am a Radical Feminist

Or so I’ve been told by a guy I didn’t sleep with

Photo by Arthur Savary on Unsplash

There are a few places that are bound to absorb the odor of rotten utterances.

Twitter.

The comments section of pretty much any public figure or newspaper.

And Instagram DMs.

For the most part, I have given the first two a rest.

I’m not a massive ‘grammer, either. But I have heard tales of inboxes resembling the dark, putrid alley at the back of a glamourous theatre.

Now I know why.

There’s this guy (when is there not?) Let’s call him Jose*.

Jose and I didn’t speak for about 3 years, for a valid reason which I will get to in a minute.

One rainy day last year, I get a ‘Hi’ from a foreign number. I don’t recognise it and the Whatsapp picture just isn’t clear enough. To be fair, I’d just had a head injury so that probably didn’t help.

I’ll spoil the surprise for you — although you may have guessed — yes, it was Jose, messaging me from the pits of the ex-lovers underworld.

We have a polite exchange of niceties, with how-are-yous and where-are-yous. He attempts an allusive apology by saying he sacrificed our friendship for superficial purposes…