The end of The Doctor

I have never heard The Dame cry. Until today that is. An hour ago, to be precise. Over the telephone she told me how The Doctor had ended their relationship.

It was true, a few weeks ago, before The Dame’s relationship became ‘serious’ she had forgiven The Doctor a night of ‘crashing’ in someone’s bed once they’d declare themselves an item. By crash of course, I mean sleep, and so did she. The Doctor went to a ball, if my facts are correct, and spent the night with two girls. She said she ‘pulled’ one of these. Here we are, yet again, in the realm of ambiguous definition.

So The Dame forgave her, because this is in The Dame’s nature. For once she choose her own happiness and forgave lines of deceit that were creeping into her relationship. We both agreed that our definition of ‘pulling’ didn’t include mere crashing in a stranger’s bed. Our definitions included sex and tongues. There must be more to this, we thought. But no, if you’re going to attempt to forgive and forget, you have to do it wholeheartedly, and so she did.

Now it transpires that our definition ‘pulling’ was perfectly correct. The Doctor slept with the (let’s call her) plum. Further, when she should have been with The Dame, she went for dinner with the plum and, this afternoon, declared how strong her feelings for the plum were to The Dame. Let’s be thankful she came clean before anymore damage was done.

Now, I’ve always had such respect for people who follow their desires in the face of adversity. But, do we really have to trample over people in the process of it all. Can’t we be dignified in the approaches we take to our love lives?

So, The Dame is distraught. Because she laid herself bare, her insecurities, her fears to somebody she thought might understand her. And The Doctor ripped this respect to shreds and did the worst thing she possibly could. I won’t say that I hope that the plum is worth any of this, for I’m certain she won’t be. What I hope for instead is a day of reckoning where she comes to realise what she has lost with The Dame.

The more brains people have, it would appear, the less they know how to use them.
Of course, a part of me will always hope that The Doctor too will on day be ditched in favour of a lust filled thunderbolt. That she too will have to put up with deceit when she is perhaps at her most happy and most vulnerable. It seems only fair.

As for The Dame and myself, I suppose we’ve had enough. That people think they can trample over us and blame their private parts is shocking and, quite frankly, demoralising. Onwards and upwards, for there are bigger, better, cleverer fish in the sea.