You’re Inquisitating Me!

Weird; I don’t see myself as daunting.  I don’t intend to intimidate.  Yet if you listen to the squeeze, I’m the Step Father.  Hell, I’m the husband in Sleeping with the Enemy.  I’m that creepy individual at the movies that just showing them on camera makes you gasp...  So much so that the squeeze invented a new word…  (Not that I don’t like it.)  But you’re inquisitating me..!  (Yes, there is a defence!)  WTF does that even mean?

Of course I’m not inquisitating him.  I merely ask questions and he deals answers with avoidance…  One word at a time.  His bouts of looking over his shoulder to see if I’m looming behind him (perhaps with a switch blade or one of my Tridents) while he is on  the phone or reading a text message is no more than ‘guilt’ or perhaps more ‘moodleness’.

He figures that if he can “protect” me from some of the bullshit, I will stress less and he will have it easier.  Having it easier, I assume in moodle world is not having to admit that you’re a pathetic weasel who is incapable of standing up for yourself.

Humph.  In my world, lying by omission is still just lying and if you have to lie to your partner, well hell, it’s dead in the water anyhow.

Yesterday, son one calls to say he is back.  Back..?  He doesn’t go home to his house but instead goes to Squeezeville.  Instead of moving out and making it on your own, modern move out is pay some tosser for a back room at their place, but just make sure you stay at dad’s every night!  Upside for him is the illusion of independence and meals.  Downside for squeeze is bills haven’t reduced but any help with rent has (not to mention downside for me is the fricking mess left).  Having said that, I am typing this to his practising piano and since he is fantastic, that is a bonus.

But I digress.  While on the phone, I was ‘looming’ around my lounge and happened to mouth the word “tent”.  He then asked if son one had bought the tent home.  We left it on the proviso that all the stuff we left for his use would be dismantled and bought home.  I argued with the squeeze that he could kiss the tent goodbye, because mummy would not let him pull it down and bring it home.  The squeeze told me he had made it clear and it would be fine.  The poor bastard is delusional or living in a fairy land of how things work for others obviously.  How is it so obvious to me how the Harridan works, but he is still living in denial..?

Anyhow, when I realised that I had effectively set up a camp with tent and fly and tarp – for the harridan and her family, well let’s just say I was less than impressed.  She delayed us going… Wasted a day for the Oliver “more” part with her demands on presenting the first aid bag; she sent the “you are a weak prick” text for no apparent reason – but hell, we had spent time and money setting up her camp!!!

I’ll admit that I’m pre-menstrual, but hey, I’m fast getting over the emotional and financial vampires that rule his world (and garlic does nothing to this lot… I haven’t tried the stake yet.)   But in about five seconds, when we are living together as planned, they are going to be ruling my world too… 

The tent seemed the final straw.  Yeah, I know nothing… I get it wrong… blah freaking blah.  I literally screamed his head off and stormed off to bed where I tossed and turned.  I know myself well.  I know that he is ensuring that I will steadily fall out of love.  How can I not?  How do you love someone you don’t respect?  And how do you respect someone that can’t respect themselves?  I may as well pull a lipstick out of my handbag and write “victim” on his forehead.  He just rolls over and lets them kick him – at will!  And our life doesn’t have to be like this.  He does not have to “perform” on command (except in the bedroom).  He does not have to pay $1000 because she decree’s it.  WTF?  Go to court, get an amount for maintenance – he couldn’t be worse off!

At the end of the day, money has never been a major motivator for me.  But I do want a house and home with him.  I do want a life.  And while he rolls over and lets wife and children suck him dry (and not in a creepy way), what hope do I have of attaining anything with him?  But more importantly, when I can’t take any more of this shit and leave, is that what he wants his life to be..?  Bossed around and terrorised by this bitter, miserable woman?

So although we both know what the issue is, that we can see that his inability to shut the wife down is ripping us apart, we are at a loss as to how to rectify it. 

This morning, when I got up, he dumped me and was going back to clean freak hell.  Yes… yes… How dare I be pissed off.  And there’s the solution, let’s dump possibly the only person on the planet that actually loves you!!!  (What a fricking moron)

Ok, I can admit, I’m a bit Joan of Arc-ish’ but that is who I am.  Love it or fuck off.  Abuse him and I want to stab you.  Hurt my children and I want to pull your eyeballs from your head and feed them to a dog!!!!  Harm my family; and I’m going to get me a shovel and a bag of lime!!!  That is who I am; how I was raised.

My suggestion is a very simple “fix the fricking issue and it won’t be an issue anymore!”  And now..?  We await the end of February.  If fixed, great, let’s get on with our life.  If not, I will have my answer on life and love because I’ve made myself pretty damned clear so if it isn’t fixed, I’ll know that keeping me isn’t as important to him, as it is to me.