Two Ladies and a Cup of Coffee

Here's one thing I don't think I'll ever understand: the betrayed woman.

I went to grab a bite and for the rest of my lunch hour I did what I usually do: went to a café to write for a while. It was more crowded than usual so I ended up table to table with two other women - pointless to say my writing didn't go that well, for those two ladies were putting on quite an act.

I don't eavesdrop on other people's conversations. I really don't. I could and I would admit it if I did, especially because that might give you such great plot ideas, but I honestly don't. Not usually, anyway. Only today it was impossible not to hear at the rate they were going.

So Lady n. 1 was apparently crying her eyes out (Lady n. 1 is also known as the Lady-with-the-sun-glasses-even-though-we-were-inside-a-pretty-dark-room), while her friend - you got it, Lady n. 2 - was trying to reason with her. Lady n. 1 was saying out and clear to whoever was near that "he" wouldn't do that to all the other women, that she could reassure her friend (Lady n. 2) that "all of his other women" had never been through that.

Really? I mean, seriously? The guy cheats on you with an harem and you're cool with it? And you're still with him? And you're crying over him?

Whether she was the Mrs or just one of many lovers, it goes down to the same thing: why would someone do that to themselves? I can't wrap my mind around.

Self-respect, people. Where did it go?

And the most amazing moment of this lunch was Lady n. 1 snapping at her friend - who had been patiently indulging her moaning and her grouchy mood - when Lady n. 2 insisted for her to finish her food. "Great, my friend cares about me and is worried, so let's yell at her like I was still 3!"

I honestly don't get it. But then again, it might just be me.