Oh, boy. This whole story would have been a lot of fun under normal circumstances. By ‘normal circumstances’, I mean just enjoying the gossip and spreading it as one does. This girl enjoys watching the telenovela called Life, can’t blame her for bringing popcorn to the screening. A girl has to do her part, you know?
This time, however, I played a minor (or major) role in this story – very much against my will, may I add. It all started one year ago when I opened the doors to my house – and my life – to a Colombian-French marriage that had just landed in Montreal. I mean, the pandemic was happening, my friends were all having babies, and Olivier is fun, but not fun fun, so I needed someone to get wasted with. So, why not?
Here’s why not: the marriage was dysfunctional as fuck, which is not absolutely terrible, but they were also kind of dull. In hindsight, they weren’t worth the effort. And yet, we ended up hanging out with them for one full year because it’s better to be in bad company than off alone. I ain’t gonna lie, this whole story is a plethora of bad choices.
Did I know this from the start? Yes, I did, but did I do anything about it? Of course not. I see a red flag and I charge at it like a bull at the matador. The only problem is that I remembered a little bit too late that the bull usually ends up dead.
We were going on vacations with them this summer, but we cancelled due to my switching jobs, so they went alone. They were not happy, like, not at all. Olivier mockingly said that we were the glue keeping them together, and us not going would probably lead to their divorce. I should have marked his words because that is exactly what happened.
The wife exploited the Latin connection – and also the fact we were co-workers – to send me daily updates on how her marriage was crumbling apart. It was obviously a secret, and I hate repeating gossip, so I only told my besties (and everyone else I knew) once.
Am I the drama? Seriously, am I the drama?
It was still kind of funny until things took a dark turn and the wife told me her life was potentially in danger. Wait a minute, what? She just dropped that bomb on me right after I told her to dump her man? Was I in danger now?
Well, fuck. I’ve always wanted to be famous, but I didn’t know my shot to fame would be starring on my own True Crime documentary. Things got so real that I even sanitized my Instagram feed, just in case Netflix featurs it on the show. My soon-to-be dead ass still believes in aesthetics, y’all.
