Episode 8: The Man, The Mistake, The Margarita

Cosmo Farfetch had many talents: drinking martinis before noon, collecting bans from respectable establishments, and, most of all, making catastrophic romantic decisions. His latest? A dark-eyed vision named Julian, whose jawline could cut glass and whose charm lasted precisely until the second margarita.

It was only afterwards — post-tryst, mascara smudged, one shoe missing — that the truth emerged. Julian wasn’t just any divine mistake. He was Tiffany’s ex. Yes, that Tiffany. The brunch-saboteur, handbag-flashing nemesis who had already ruined Cosmo’s social life, financial prospects, and inheritance prospects. Now she could add “romantic humiliation” to the list.

Cosmo insisted he hadn’t known. The Zorro mask had obscured things, or perhaps it was the tequila, or perhaps he simply hadn’t cared. Tiffany, naturally, saw it differently. By the time the Gucci eye patch was fitted (don’t ask), she was screeching about betrayal, syphilis, and vengeance. And if Tiffany was many things — petty, spiteful, alarmingly committed to Pilates — she was never idle in revenge.

Cosmo, meanwhile, lay on his couch, equal parts soiled and smug. He liked Julian, he admitted that much. But to be anyone’s sloppy seconds — especially Tiffany’s — was a bridge too far. The narrator (and anyone with sense) knew it wouldn’t stop him from answering Julian’s texts.

And so, we end, not with triumph, but with Cosmo swirling the last inch of his margarita, declaring to no one in particular: “I will rise again, duckies. In sequins, in scandal, in infamy.”

The stage is set for new disasters: Tiffany plotting her revenge, Miles lingering too close for comfort, Big Merv still chasing rent, and Nanna scheming her comeback tour.

Cosmo may never win, but he will always perform.

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