By and large, I’m quite a chilled out kinda gal. I’m fairly easy-going; I don’t see the point in being highly strung; and it takes quite a lot for another person to make me genuinely angry (other than poor spelling and grammar, but that’s a given).
But this week, the accolade of Making Blonde Grumpy falls squarely, and with a thud, at the feet of Andrew Cohen, a writer for Politics Daily. And I’m not the only one: yesterday afternoon, Cohen seemed to have a good percentage of the population of Twitter spitting bile at their screens.
His crime? A simple column. A shortish piece positioned as a toast to a lost love.
The catch? The title: On Her Wedding Day, Saying the Things Left Unsaid.
That’s right: for almost 1,500 words, Cohen waxes lyrical about a woman he’s not with; a woman who’s with someone else and celebrating one of the most memorable days of her lives. And, whilst some might - and, bizarrely, do judging by the comments - think that his is a tribute to a loved one on a special day, I’m afraid I’m rather more cynical about his motives.
If he does indeed mean well, and simply wishes to ponder the virtues of a past lover on a poignant day, then all well and good, but dear Gods - there are ways of going about these things. And passively-aggressively isn’t one of them.
Because the piece is essentially Cohen’s way, whether he’s aware of it or not, of seeking revenge; of telling his ex that she's made a terrible mistake. Any of us who has been crushingly in love, only for it not to have worked, has fantasised about the object of one’s desire realising their mistake, come running back. But most of us keep that fantasy to ourselves and sit on it privately until we man up and it passes.
What we don’t do is shout out into the echoing recesses of the internet that it should have been us - the digital equivalent of Mr Briggs’ announcement that “the marriage can’t go on”.
We don’t, under the guise of gushing happiness, list the reasons why our past lover should be with us; list how we’ve changed all the things about us that were used as reasons not to be together; drop in details that serve to remind how we knew them intimately.
Of course, maybe I’m doing Cohen a disservice. Maybe he genuinely meant the piece as a tribute to a woman he’s still very fond of; maybe he’s just happened to deliver it in such as way as so have a British audience, with rather a lower tolerance than our transatlantic counterparts for saccharine bollocks, hurling into their web browsers.
But, sadly, that doesn’t escape the fact that, even if his accolade was done with the best of intentions, it was still the most deeply selfish, self-obsessed load of wank I’ve read since Piers Morgan released his diaries. After all, it’s HER WEDDING DAY, you FOOL: IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU.
And so, whether he’s manipulative, and passive-aggressive, or merely self-obsessed to the point of idiocy, I can't tell. What I do know, though, is that some things really are better left unsaid.
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