I finally spoke to Simon yesterday, after my previous failed attempt. On Tuesday, I drove all the way out to his house to speak with him in-person, only to find out that he had company.
Male company. Sexual male company. I could tell from the loud grunting noises coming from an open window.
The bastard had already replaced Ted. I stormed off, deciding that, if he is "Eve", he's not worth saving. Why would I bother helping someone who can just throw aside my best friend? The fucker can rot in a tree for all I care...
But, unfortunately, I seem to have a nice guy hidden somewhere deep inside me. I decided to give Simon a chance, and called him last night. I directed him to my blogs, told him my theories. He immediately called me crazy and told me to never get in touch with him again.
I exploded. I screamed at him about already sleeping around when his boyfriend had died only two weeks ago. He hung up on me.
Let the sonuvabitch die. I don't care anymore. Ted didn't mean a thing to the fucker, so Simon doesn't mean a thing to me.