Pass the Cunt

I've been thinking about a previous relationship that died a necessary death. I'm dredging through the details here, apologies if some of it bores. But I'm trying to understand something.

Some months into the relationship, we started playing this party game with each other. She went abroad to teach, I started flirting with other people. It was a cunty thing to do, perhaps.

After a couple of week-long trips abroad, at my expense mostly, she was pretty detached, as if she wasn't glad to see me. I decided she was a cunt.

So then it dragged out, dragged out. I asked for a break. What a cunt, eh? We argued about it and so on. Then she dumped me. Two weeks before she was due to come back to visit. And she didn't change her accommodation plans. Cunt.

Well, she came back and it was one of those games where you try to out-hurt each other, until your senses are fecked and you can only fall back on the primal urges of the body and throw your genitals about until by some fluke of waggling an orgasm convulses into the refuse bags of your pride. (I think that stage in the relationship was the only time we were on equal footing, because we each thought the other person a cunt and both felt ourselves to be cunts. I only speak for myself, though.) We split up.

From then on, I didn't want to talk to her. I was a cunt to her on the phone. She told me she'd pulled someone else and went into cuntish details about him. Finally, she came back to see her friends. I told her not to. I was an adamant cunt. She arrived, like a cunt, to sleep in the room next to mine, in the house I was renting, and she was a cold, distant cunt about it, so I went and got cunting drunk and drugged up for five straight days, acted like a cunt, while she cunted about flirting, and I went out and made a cunt of myself in front of 4 different women on consecutive nights, and woman no. 2 again on the fifth night.

So, I cut all ties. She must have thought I was a cunt. Meanwhile, senses came back to me and I started seeing Woman No.2, casually... during which time the 'ex-' decided to restore contact. She emailed me. I didn't want to hear from her, I thought she was a cunt at first.

Then I got over it, responded. She wanted to meet up. I bumped into her by accident one day, outside a cafe, and she started crying. I felt absolutely nothing and left. She thought I was a cold heartless cunt.

Then she apologised for being hormonal. Told me she was dating someone else, that friend she flirted with when she came back from abroad. What a cunt. That, rather than the crying, scraped the burnt pig-rind out of my memory's roasting dish.

Blah blah, I wasn't interested, just annoyed. It flipped back and forth. I insulted her a bit, nothing major, fobbed her off. By some accident, she came to see mutual friends one winter, and I showed up with my new partner, girlfriend no.2. That made the cunt hit the fan and piss through the blades to boot.

All this synopsising has led me to believe that I'm trapped in an endless Erinyes-Blood-Feud-style game of pass the cunt with her, that will never end until one of us is dead. The latest to happen is a text message, asking to meet up because she was back in the country. This, arriving on the night I was due to go for a weekend-trip with current girlfriend. It pretty much left a cuntshadow over the trip.

I'd really like to think there'd be an end to the cunt-passing, but the worst part of it is that even the slightest mention of ex- in presence of current girlfriend cuntifies me instantly.