She Shamed Me for Leaving My Husband
She asked me if I thought my life was over.
This past weekend, I went out to a bar with my friend group. We ran into a couple of my friend’s friends with who I have attended social gatherings occasionally through the years.
It’s always a good time to make forced small talk with people you pretend to like.
One of the women we ran into was Emma. Emma is my friend’s cousin.
She’s a special type of asshole.
She married young, to someone who owns a company. They live in a large house and have two children. She wears designer clothes and shoes and suggests that everyone get cosmetic surgery, as she has.
Her favorite activity is telling each person which surgery she thinks they should have.
Maybe she’s insecure. Maybe she’s a bitch. Maybe her implants and botox will fall out.
This was the first time I had seen Emma since moving back to England and leaving my husband.
Emma sipped on her champagne.
It’s a casual bar. 90% of people are drinking beer. Calm down.
And then decided to grace me with her attention. She interrupted my conversation with one of the other pterodactyls, to ask me about my move back to England.
