What the…?

Sometimes I’m difficult.  Sometimes… it’s hard.  I admit that.  Hell, one of the guys at work told me I made a mistake.  I’m not a little bit mad – I’m definitely psychotic.  I figure as long as I’m not burying people in the back yard under the lilies, that just makes me interesting – but hey, what do I know?

Still, I realise that the Squeeze and I are not singing from the same hymn book.  We are not speaking the same language – I doubt we are from the same freaking planet.  I realised today that the reason I feel as though I am talking at him; am tired of talking at him – why I ask a million questions; is quite simply because there is no input!

Empty!  Zilch!  Nothing there.  No body home!  We are talking echoing inside his empty skull!  Like dice rattling around in a yahtzee cup!

I asked him about something tonight on our walk and he said “we already discussed and agreed to this.”  When we got home, he went out for a night of jazz with son one and to be honest, I just breathed a sigh of relief; because he is hard work.  It meant I could pour a glass of red, put on music and just not have to think for a while.

And then it hit me.  He thinks we discuss things, thinks there is some sort of dialogue… Input.  But in fact, I talk at him.  He says okay – but it is a hollow word, it’s not real.  It’s the ‘ok’ you give when you are not really listening, just to get them to shut the hell up.  It’s like a Simpson’s episode.  I am Homer and he is Santa’s Little Helper – and all he is hearing as I open my mouth is blah blah blah!

So I ask again, because as far as I’m concerned, I’ve offered a suggestion.  There has been no discussion, no feedback, and no agreement.  So I ask!  And I get “we already discussed and agreed to this.”  

So we have no dialect or discussion.  Yet apparently, agreement is magical.  I just have to have an idea and state it – and it’s an agreement!  Wonder if that will work with rose gold… or diamonds!

Anyway, he buggers off to the sound of my sigh and I decide it’s shower, undies and a glass of red and then I settle to watch a show I only half watched while sick the other week.  I open his laptop, throw in the stick – it lights up and there on screen… Is an email from the Harridan.

Of course I read it, hoping it was dialogue about the “talk we need to have” – but no… Nothing so simple.  No mention of the ‘talk’ or the divorce.  Not a breath about the texts or emails asking for an agenda that she has deemed fit not to reply to.

Instead, there is a task list.  Call the doctor and make and appointment for this time and you can have kid 3 tomorrow after work and take the day off Friday and blah blah, orders, orders – jump you moodle faced prick, jump.

And in gmail, you get each email and reply.  All neat; together.  So easy to actually just flow on from there.  So here the moodle replies with the doctors appointment – WFT?  This bitch has robbed you blind!  Has ignored every text/email requesting an agenda and divorce for 3 freaking months!

If I’d have replied, it’s not fit for a blog what I’d say.  What does he say..?

Why he grabs his heels and a nice little skirt, throws a pencil behind the ear and takes dictation – like he is her freaking secretary!

And then they have several replies – to and fro.  Planning the weekend and him being told what he is doing and where to go.    Funny; I thought this was my home..?

And then I realised…  In his head, he is still there.  That is still the relationship.  That is why there is no divorce; because I’m the third wheel.  I don’t get the discussion about the kid or the weekend or what goes where – because he still bows and scrapes to wife.

And after 1.5 years…  After living together…   
It just makes me wonder why the hell I am wasting my time...