When I spoke about making a deal with the devil when I asked J-Fed to help Mr. Ex and I move, I meant every word of it. I know that everything comes with a price with J-Fed, whether it be big or little.
Well, it wasn't six hours after the big move, when Satan came to collect. I heard my phone jingling from the other room, the special ominous tone I have programmed to alert me that the ding dong is ringing me.
"Hey Kiki. Did you get moved in okay?" he asked in that pseudo-sweet voice that's anything but.
"Yes, J-Fed. I want to thank you profusely for helping us. It was really nice of you," I said graciously.
"Well, you said you owed me one..." he started. I hit the button on my stopwatch. That didn't take long at all. But it's not like I didn't know what I was in for. After all, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I'm not insane so I obviously knew what I had gotten into.
I don't know what lofty request I expected, but it most certainly wasn't this one.
"Going forward I'd like for you to stop referring to her as T.O.W. (the other woman), please refer to her as T.W., as in The Woman," he said firmly. Before I got a chance to reply, I had to go change my Victoria's Secret panties as I had just pissed myself from laughing so hard.
Oh dear, J-Fed. You want for me to start referring to your girl as "The Woman" and not "The Other Woman." While I'd normally tell you to go fuck a chicken and die, I'll stop short of that. I have no problem calling her The Woman. Do you know why? Because for the last two years, maybe two and a half years. She's been The Woman in your life.
Remember the Stevie Nicks concert we went to right after you hurt your ankle and professed your undying love for me from the hospital bed. Well, it was just a couple of nights later when you snuck out of the arena to "have a cigarette." Well buddy, I checked your phone and no doubt, you were likely smoking, but you were also speaking... to her.