Kitchen Cabinet: RIP.

He's ordering a new one. It should be here Friday or Saturday. Mind you, he didn't say which Friday or Saturday, which should provide a nice little loophole if it doesn't turn up when expected, which is what I'm expecting.

We had a good weekend. Elvis didn't have to work at all, for what seems like the first time in ages, so it was nice just to spend some time together at home.

We got to watch more American Football at the pub last night, which I enjoyed immensely. A Brit that has just moved here loves it, too, so we watched it together. The more the merrier, is what I say. We're trying to convert the rugby fans, but I don't really fancy our chances. Although, as long as there's nothing important on, sport-wise, they're perfectly happy to let us watch. Sometimes, they even pay attention.

A couple of guys sat at the bar were watching the game intently. "Look," I said, "more football fans!"

"Nah," says the Brit, "they're just trying to figure out what's going on." Considering the fact that they left during 4th and 2, I reckon that he was probably right.

Remember Lover Boy?

Turns out Brenda's been seeing him for the past few weeks, despite the fact that she's been warned that he is, shall we say, less than stable.

She walked out her front door a few days ago, and who does she see? Lover Boy! And not just Lover Boy, but Lover Boy and another woman. He saw Brenda, gave a little shrug, and just kept on going, female in tow.

To be fair, she herself had a date with French Guy, whom she was dying to go out with, until she took a nap or turned off her phone or something on the day they were supposed to go out, resulting in her basically standing him up. He hasn't called since.

In any case, when she told me this story, I resisted telling her that I'd seen Lover Boy cruising for women at the Late Night Bar of Evil the week before, on a night she wasn't there. What I couldn't resist was asking her why, especially since she'd heard all the stories, and not just from me. She didn't explain why she agreed to go out with him in the first place, but did say that she enjoyed his company. Fair enough, I suppose: she is a grown-up, after all. She didn't seem too upset about it either-- in fact, she was stressing the funny aspects of the tale, and wondering why he would be so gormless as to parade this other woman right in front of her house.

The answer is fairly obvious, actually: because Lover Boy thought Brenda was out of town, and didn't know that she had came back early. I'm sure that she does, too, although we didn't discuss it. I was just glad that the whole thing didn't end in tears.

Except that it did. When we got to the Late Night Bar of Evil (after sending a group of golfing jerks off to the disco with the understanding we'd join them later-- we get enough jerks in the LNBOE as it is), there was Lover Boy, eyeing up a group of hot young things in the corner.

He completely ignored us, and that went double for Brenda. Brenda is not the kind of woman who likes to be ignored-- far from it-- so that didn't sit too well with her. She tried dancing and flirting with other guys; possibly to show Lover Boy she didn't need him, possibly to make him jealous. And she kept on drinking, which was less than helpful. Then she went into the familiar girl- who- has- been- dumped- and- drank- too- much mantra: But I really, really li-i-ike him, how could he do this to me-e-e.

It was around this stage that I found out that she hadn't just been seeing him. Or, rather, that she'd seen a whole lot more of him than was probably prudent, since they've been sleeping together. And that's when I started to get Lover Boy: he's all about the chase, about wanting what he can't have. And once he gets it? See ya!

Brenda, I suspect, is like that, too. Look at French Guy: she agonized over whether he would call for weeks, when she told me that he had she was literally jumping up and down, and then she sleeps through their date? What's up with that? I told her as much, and instantly regretted it. Brenda, however, is straight-forward and honest, and she expects others to be the same. This applies even to herself: she thought about it for a moment, then said that I was probaby right. But-- she still wanted Lover Boy, and she certainly didn't want him to continue ignoring her.

Brenda is also not the kind of woman to take this sort of thing lying down. She likes to confront, lay all the cards on the table, and settle things once and for all. . She decided to go over to the corner where he had spent most of the night (faintly leering), and have it out with him. I advised her to leave it be, go chat up Tall Bloke or something. I mean, was he really that good in bed?

The answer to that question, apparently, is 3 out of 10. Maybe a four, on a very good day. Still, she'd convinced herself that she really liked him, and was even more determined that no one was going to get away with treating her like that. Lover Boy, on the other hand, didn't want to know. Not merely "Sorry, it's over", but "Who the hell are you? You don't even look familiar."

Poor Brenda. She came back over to us on the verge of tears-- tears of hurt, anger and frustration. She left soon after that, alone, and she refused to let anyone go with her. We do know that Brenda made it home safely, but she turned her phone off yesterday afternoon and we haven't seen her. She'll be fine, of course: Brenda is one of the most relentlessly cheerful people I know, and certainly not one to sulk and brood. And she's got plenty of other men more than eager to go out with her: in her case, the sea is teeming. Still, I plan to give her a call tomorrow.

I just wish she would have listened. On the other hand, if she didn't go out and do exactly what she wanted to do, Brenda wouldn't be Brenda.