How to brutally end an affair without remorse, lessons 1 to 5:
(post-coital chit-chat)
V: Anything, absolutely anything you could do. What job would it be?
H: I would love to be a taxi driver, me. Especially in London.
V: Really? Tell me why?
H: Because you can drive your passengers to all these famous places without having to go inside.
V: Why wouldn’t you want to go inside?
H: Well, obviously I would. But only just the once. It is never as good as you expected it to be anyway.
V: I don’t get it.
H: It would be a privilege, you see. Day in, day out, taking customers to places they want to see or need to go to.
V: Because tourists have saved up money to finally make that dream trip to shitty London?
H: Yeah, could be. But not just tourists. The busy City banker who desperately needs to make his appointment. The drunk who needs to get home. I could help them to reach their destinations, without the consequences. And London is not shitty.
V: I’m beginning to understand. Like we established the other day, you’re more of a giver than a taker.
H: Exactly.
V: It’s a bit like our unprotected sex. You like taking me there, but are too afraid to come inside.
H: That’s an awful comparison, V.
…
V: Poor A. She is so sweet. What would she’d do if she found out?
H: Did I hear that right? What the fuck would your husband do?
V: He’d kill you.
H: There is nothing for A to find out. She already knows. I told her.
V: What?
H: Oh, yes, luv, she knows.
V: You’re lying.
H: I’ll ring her now and you can ask her yourself. Fuck off. You’re too pathetic.
V: Why are you so nasty suddenly?
H: You can mess with me, but you don’t mess with the Almighty A. Never ever.
V: I don’t understand you.
H: Don’t ever feel sorry for A, ok? Got that? Or patronise her. Who do you think you are? Just because you are so much older and less fat.
V: I …
…
V: She is not gonna tell Mike, is she?
H: No she won’t. But I couldn’t care less, if she did … Don’t fucking try and control me … Our “rehearsals” are hereby officially over … She should tell your fucking sons.
V: Very low, Husten. Underneath the belt. What’s gotten into you? I’ll go now if you want me to.
H: About fucking time. I’m gonna order a taxi for you, right now. I want you out. Out of me house. Got that?
…
(looking scared)
V: Is this how you treat A?
H: Whatever, luv. Get dressed and get the fuck out.
V: The rumour goes you get physical with her. Slap her around a bit.
H: You’re feeling left out?
…
(on the mobile)
H: She is out of my life, lovely. Forever. I’ve just thrown her out.
A: Thank God. That wasn’t the best of ideas you’ve had, Husten.
H: I know. Thank you for opening my eyes. You always do.
A: (giggle)
H: By the way, did you know? Apparently I beat you up.
A: Ey?
H: Yup, that’s what she said in a desperate attempt to get back at me. V’s friends have told her I’m a wifebeater.
A: That’s awful.
H: No, it’s hilarious. I’m just curious to know where that comes from. You know who started that rumour and based on what? I mean, it’s fucking …
A: She is getting to you, Husten. Don’t let her.
H: She is, isn’t she? … Thank God for you, A … You’re gonna see L tonight?
A: I’m already at his.
H: Sorry, didn’t realise. I better let you get on with things. Anything exciting you two are up to?
A: Planning our holiday. L has printed off lots of stuff.
H: Make sure you go to that bar stroke restaurant I told you about. The one NY took me to.
A: L is not too sure.
H: Fair enough. Take care, sweetie, I miss you.
A: I miss you too.
