Cup Day BBQ

We have people coming tomorrow to watch the cup, drink champagne and bet on nags; so this evening was about tidying up the back to make sure all was ready.  While hanging out washing this morning, the sun was shining and all was right with the world.  Still, I had to dodge bees due to a huge tree that overhangs from next door.  It’s got lovely flowers with a sweet, pungent smell that lingers out the back and a smattering of small white/pink flowers that drop over everything.

I could hear buzzing as I was hanging and the louder it got, the faster I hung.
I’m anaphylactic. Bees are on my no go zone so I raced inside and shut the back doors and windows and then left a note on my list of things to do that encompassed “prune bee tree”.  Hell, I can’t have the guests stung, or me doing the “chicken” as my throat closes over!

So my lovely day off, home alone, really was just about cleaning, ironing and cooking.  What happened to sleep ins..?

So the Squeeze wanders in early from work and I suggest he cleans the bbq and he heads outside rather good naturedly for such a lazy S.O.B.  Rather than me stay inside and complete my ironing, feeling guilty about the heavy work outside; I turn the iron off and go out to help.

I grab a set of 3 foot long pruning shears (I don’t want to get too close to the bees) and start lopping off the overhanging branches.  And I’ll just admit for a second, I’m doing it with ease.  These shears are heavy duty and not only am I snipping, but them I’m using them to flick the possible bee infested branches over my head.

That worked find until the squeeze approached during my upward swing and I clocked him on the forehead.

Well.  That was a display.  Talk about a fire cracker.  He has a cute gash, bump and hopefully, a bruise to show at tomorrow’s party….

What will I do….?

I’m sitting here wondering just what I’ll do if he actually manages to walk in the door with the tent today.

A:  I’d rather hotel than go camping with those flies the size of cows, mosquitos the size of terrordactyls - but I must admit, I did have fun last year.

B:  The Harridan has provided me with hours and hours of fun.  I’ve got to swear and storm about the house, not to mention that I have been able to spatter our life with about a million digs – all in the name of a tent.

The trouble is that I’m incapable of understanding anything this woman does. I’ve often said I must be the man in this relationship; and don’t think that I didn't want to say that she must be from Mars, and me from the womanly Venus; but I seriously doubt that is the case.  And just how does that work since I have a suspicion that she is a closet lesbian anyhow..?  (anyone who can hate an ex that is basically good, must hate them because they blame them for their life...)

Earlier this week, the Squeeze phones the school and asks to speak to the sports department.  This is where the Harridan has told him his tent is now residing.  He chases around speaking with various people only to discover that they have no idea what he is talking about.  His tent is not at the school and never has been.

I mean I can’t even be furious about it.  It is simply utterly astounding to me.  Why would anyone go out of their way to prove so many of your worst qualities; all at once?  I always knew she was vindictive; she is a proven liar and definitely a thief. 

But to let those skills rule you so totally that you would risk your job?  Drag the work place into your deceit and proclaim to everyone that you work with, that you’re a lying thief?  It beggars belief!

Still, will the Moodle prance in with the tent – I doubt it.  In fact, in some ways, I hope not because we have surpassed drama and this is just getting funnier by the week!

Tonight, we are off out to dinner to celebrate two years of relationship bliss.  Or maybe it is to celebrate the fact that two years in, he remains unstabbed…

Anniversaries

It's our anniversay; and where is the Moodle..?

Picking up his mother from the airport.

Great; we have moved into comfortable.

And I’m ok with that… WTF?

Back to work...

I haven't been slack.  Not exactly.
I've had this weird dizzy, migraine thing that has completely knocked me on my arse.
At least the Moodle is in "time off" land, because I've barely said anything about the Harridan - ev en though he did get a "get the freaking tent!" today because he was off baby sitting the 14+ year old.  It's always enlightening; how their mind workds.

ie:  you could get me an iPad for school.

Yeah kid.  Ummm father's day was nothing and his birthday is fast approaching.
Let's see what they come up with for that - after my prompting and then just "you'd better get him something or else!" line!

Personally, I don't give it much hope.  Lucky I found something he should like...

Dying of Foot & Mouth Disease

No people.  I’m not dying of the disease; but the Squeeze moves closer to it all the time.  I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone with less common sense; he literally, should never open his mouth to comment without sitting and putting in thought, writing it down, reading it out loud and checking it twice.
He doesn’t understand how some of his comments can be misconstrued; I don’t understand how he can’t know beyond the shadow of a doubt, how the recipient is going to receive his astounding comments.

Perhaps it is the passage of time that means I don’t dwell or Rubik’s Cube them as much as I would once have.  I mean Hell, some utterly outlandish things have leapt from his mouth and caused me torment for days before further discussion makes me realise it’s not what I’m thinking – he is just a moron in the art of romance.

And let’s face it; I could pull some doozies out of my head without putting any real thought into at all.  The piece de résistance came while sitting to watch a romantic comedy one night; he quite likes the genre, for all his bungling romantic ways.  The conversation went something like this:

Me: “Do you believe that we all have a soul mate?  And if so, do you think we get just one or more than one..?”

Squeeze:  “Oh I think you only get one in a lifetime.”

Me [with somewhat dispirited voice and approaching frozen expression]: “Oh.  Who was yours..?”

Squeeze:  “Hmm” [several seconds of mulling time] “that would be ‘Hausfrau’ [yeah, that isn’t her real name, it is a nickname I choose to use that was actually initiated by her uncle J
So; you only get one soul mate; and he had already had his.  Does that mean I can go home now..?
Adding insult to injury was the fact that it wasn’t even the Harridan I was competing with!  You would like to think that if there was a soul mate running around out there that it would at least be the wife; mother of his children!  And when all is said and done, I didn’t have to worry about her, because I know and see exactly what she thinks of him – and soul mate isn’t exactly at the top of my list.

It was some Hausfrau from his youth who effectively ruined his life by rigging a competition her company was running, so that he won a trip to the states.  How did this ruin his life..?  Because the fool was offered a writing job with a television network and he knocked it back to go on a holiday.  Yes.. Yes… I’ve repeatedly said he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.

So you can see how he gets himself into trouble such as last week.  Firstly, I’ve never been motivated by money and couldn’t care less what he has or has not; as long as he isn’t relying on me to support him.   I was surprised that he didn’t know this about me, and in fact, I think he does; which means that it was about him clinging to some semblance of freedom.

I’m okay with that.  I have my own ‘freedom clinging’ rules.  Chief among those is ‘don’t ever come home and tell me the kid 1, kid 2 (and partner) or kid 3 are moving in’; or he will be finding a place for him to move with them.  I’ve done my share of child rearing and I’m not taking on any of this lot.  I have enough drama with my own!

And I’ve had to remind him of this over the last week or so…

I’m getting the distinct impression that Kid 1 has an issue with our relationship/harridan divorce; given his snappiness on Grand Final day and since then, the single invitations continue to come in for the Squeeze. 

Kid 3, whom we had on the weekend, has a hygiene problem that I’m uncertain how to address.  Yesterday I resorted to lumping the Squeeze in with him so as not to single the kid out and embarrass him.  As in: “I hate to trample on the beliefs of your cult, but Kid, if you want a girlfriend – start showering!  You!  If you want to keep a girlfriend, start showering!” 

And the “code red’, upper most in my mind:  Kid 2 and his girlfriend gave notice at the place they are living “clean freak hell II”, without having secured one to move to.  Now with just one week to go and still no place to move to, I’ve told the Squeeze that since the Harridan moved and has extra room – she can have them!

All in all, our life is pretty much perfect.  Or it would be if we won lotto and moved to another country!

A cold, unemotional eye...

“I told you I wanted a few days to mull it over before I discussed it with you!  But you’re on me as soon as I walk in the door!”  This is what I was met with upon my waking an hour earlier than required and telling him I’d had a sleepless night. (While he was wearing Speedo’s mind you, combining revolting with petulant is a truly ugly combination.)

Now had he said “on me like a fat kid on a cupcake”, I’d have been moved to violence instead of tears; which would have been nice for a change.  I’m uncertain if this idiot is incapable of understanding basic human emotion or if I am only now understanding, after all these years, that he belongs in the ‘narcissist’ silo after all.  Hell, given my track record with men, it would appear that I have a penchant for them!  Either way, the violence would have been preferable to feeling like crap – something I seem to be feeling on a regular basis these days as my self esteem takes a beating.

It short, is somewhat apparent that the Squeeze actually believes the feely good psychology line of “it’s all about you; what you want.”  

Okay.  I’m not sure why I am the one that has to explain the basic facts of life to a fifty-six year old with the emotional maturity of a fourteen year old kid, but here we go...  Ummm , Moron.  We don’t live in a vacuum.  You are not the only person in this equation; I also exist here.  Have an opinion!  A stake in what happens!

And perhaps while the Nut Doctor is sitting there, offering the Moodle and handful of tissues, platitudes and SWOT analysis, he should point out that the reverse side of the coin he is carelessly tossing in the air, is that by the time he sits and thinks and makes decisions about what he wants; that what he wants may no longer enter into the equation, because I’m fast approaching the end of my rope here. 

It shouldn’t have to be this hard and trust me, the last two years have been one crawl forward, five back.  And it’s getting harder, because he either doesn’t care or is too stupid to understand that this past week has left me empty and wondering why the hell I am putting myself through this.  Why am I bothering to argue with someone that doesn’t get such a simple set of requirements?   Sorry, but I seriously do not think it is too much to ask that the person I live with, not have a joint bank account with the wife.  It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t access it, or that it means nothing to him.  It means something to me; as does the fact that he didn’t correct my misconception that he had removed her from the account when we moved in together.

There is a refusal on his part to understand.  To his mind, the problems are me; mine.  I’m Rubik’s cubing things and coming to my own wild conclusions.  I didn’t bother to point out that it isn’t exactly a huge leap for me to understand that there is something wrong with our relationship, given that he is lying to me, hiding things and spending most of his sessions discussing my shortfalls instead his own inability to say no to the Harridan.

To that argument, I get “you are talking about the past!”  Umm no.  Just because she has called and demanded anything for a few weeks does not mean he is suddenly cured.  And in short, I really only had to say one word.  Tent.  That sent him off on another tirade about how I leap back to bring up the same things over and over again.

Anyone with an ounce of intelligence may have understood that we go over the same things so many times that I’m sure his freaking chair could explain it to him.  So why do that?  Why not just attend to these things that are creating havoc in our relationship?  Or is it that it is only because it affects me, therefore not important?

I mean my upset seems relatively simple to me.  He was originally going to see the nut doctor to help him understand that when the Harridan calls/texts/phones with her standard “UG!  Do this.  Pay this.”   That instead of doing as told, he should maybe make her understand that she has it all already and there is no more coming.

And now instead of him discovering why he is a Moodle, it would appear that the conversation centres on the failings of our relationship.  Suddenly he has to “decide what he wants” and do a SWOT analysis!  Use a cold blooded, business tool to determine an emotional relationship?  And if this idiot he is seeing actually thinks that will be of a benefit him… Looking at our life with a ‘cold unemotional eye’; then he really has no idea just who this person is!

He looks at everything with a cold, unemotional eye!  That is what he is!  A husk!

And the roller coaster whizzes down… Again

So we work out the hiding/lying and to be honest, I think I take it pretty well.  After all, I’ve been in emotional hell for 2 or 3 days wondering if I should be packing (or in this case, having him pack) but the short of it is, I don’t go ballistic.  I don’t scream or rage or even get in a huff.  I do give him a bit of sarcasm; ie:  “can I have a mink?” (Which I wouldn’t be caught dead in anyhow) so I think he got off pretty light.  

The roller coaster had been on a downward spiral for days and not was chugging back up to the top of the rise.  I was annoyed, but in the scheme of things, it could have been worse.  Still, I understood deep down that the hiding things, lying to me; well that says something about our relationship.  I just haven’t had time to sit and contemplate what that may actually be, not yet.  Although let’s face it, it isn’t going to be good.

Today the Squeeze had visit to the “nut doctor”.  I mentioned this morning that he should probably talk to him about the ‘issue’ we had this week.  Although I hadn’t really thought about it outside of its negative connotations, I figured that he needed to understand what it meant.  And seriously, if it came painted on a Mack truck and mowed him down, he still would get it.

He has matured some in going out with me; meaning he now has the sense to pause before opening that death trap in his face called a mouth; he no longer just starts blurting out an off the cuff remark.  This possibly extends his life.

Still, we went off to a gold class movie (please note, although I’m obviously a money grubbing ho that can’t be trusted with his money – I actually purchased the tickets last week…) and he refused to discuss the ‘nut doctor’ conversations until he had let it sink in; which in code means he was awaiting comprehension in his head before he dared discuss it with me.

This is wise, because I ask a million questions and it’s like Alice down the rabbit hole; a question leads to the next, then the next, and the next thing you know, he is in trouble.

After the movie we grab dinner and I ask what, if anything, the nut doctor had to say.  And he waffles on for a bit about having to work out the varying priorities which in actual fact, I have said to him many times.  For some reason, especially in the first year or so, the family came first and I was on the bottom of the Squeeze Totem Pole.

In regards to the “hiding things and lying to me”..?  Well that was about the Squeeze having to sit down and work out what he wants.  In fact, the nut job decided that we should do a SWOT analyses over our relationship.

Yes people; grab the butchers’ paper and take turns marking out the Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats within the relationship.

Am I doing the SWOT?  No.  I’m not.  I kind of figure that since we have gone out together for two years; we are living together and thinking of buying a house; well call me old fashioned, but I had already worked out what I want at that point.  And he hasn’t..?

And that was when the roller coaster started whizzing back down the hill and I closed up once again, sitting watching mindless television while my heart started into palpitation land again with the stress.

And I wondered; what the frick am I doing here..?

Emotionally Retarded/Just Plain Dumb

It is not often in life that someone I have known for a long time, surprises me.  You know how it goes; you’ve known so and so for years and they never fail to make you laugh, or disappoint you, or forget your birthday. 

My life is full of little silo’s and each person slips into their designated spot; well worn over time.

Then out of the blue, every so often, someone wants to leap out of their silo and slither down into someone else’s.  This would be fine if the silo hopping was taking them to a higher level of spirituality, or humanity; but it’s not so great if they are down hopping their way into the silo slums.

This, I’m afraid, was the Squeeze over the past week.  He obviously didn’t like residing in his “emotionally retarded, spousal abused, gun-shy hiccup on society, moodle, yet amusing and generally, a pretty good guy who wouldn’t hurt me” silo and thought he would jump across into silo’s I had previously reserved for those who at separation became “dead to me”.

The trouble with the “dead to me” set, is that they were actually pretty good at being emotional cripples with a tendency towards bastardry and narcissism.  The Squeeze, bless his little husk of a heart, is not.  

Not being good at those ‘black silo arts’, means he is a crap liar.  Not unlike me, he may as well have a bright red, neon sign screaming LIAR LIAR across his forehead.  And guilt is a powerful blush/stammer instigator; and he stammers in spades.

So when I combine the blushing and stammering to my relatively simple question regarding finances, my internal (sometimes external) siren sounds “liar liar!” goes off. (Sometimes with a muttered undertone of stab the bastard now) And this is what happened last week.

I try not to snoop.  Mostly, I don’t feel the need.  But every so often, when the “liar liar alert” goes off, in my mind, I have free reign to snoopsville.  After all, lies are there to hide things from us; generally hurtful things.

Although he would prefer it otherwise, I’m actually not a moron.  So when I question as to how someone is going to give us a investment loan, even though he hasn’t actually sent them a bank statement with the deposit sitting in it; only to get a stammering, blushing fob off; well suffice to say, I’m going to crack it.

As luck would have it, (for him) he happened to remind me that I was late for my physio appointment and so I rushed from the house and the subject was closed.  Upon my return, I suggested that he show me what he had sent the bank and stood behind him at the computer.  He tried the “I sent it from work” tact to which I muttered a “pffttt” and suggested he open his regular email to check… and there it was…  

‘PASSWORD CHANGED; DO YOU WISH TO SAVE THIS PASSWORD NOW”

As you can imagine, that is when it all went wrong for him.  First it was “I didn’t change it!” [Ummm yes, I actually can’t read English, I am the Russian bride you always wanted!]  Then came “I don’t want you going through my email…”  Okayyyy.  This would work if he ever got anything even remotely interesting other than emails from myself, or those bibles of caveman English demanding money from the Harridan. (ug giv moni)

So, he is hiding something and lying to cover it up – and I’m just supposed to run with that?

The moron that I live with, let that simmer for 2 days.  Those 2 days, I completely shut down (not that the fool would notice). Shut down to the point that I don’t even ask what the Harridan is up to; hell, she can throw a tin of petrol and flick a match at him for all I care at this point.  Lying, good for nothing, pig.

And then last night… there it is.

He sent them a statement.  Two things to hide from me.  One – the Harridan is still a joint on the bank account (I don’t care if she uses it or not; kill her off now!)  Two – the fool has 40k or so sitting in an account.

And although I felt relief in some ways, because I couldn’t care less if he had 10 million in an account!  He can withdraw it and burn it for all I care – ain’t mine!  Money is not a motivator for me (obviously because 40k isn’t getting me a mink and a Mercedes sports convertible!)

But then I thought about it.  He knows me.  Knows me better than most.  Why then, would he feel the need to hide it..?

I still have no idea how to feel about it really!  All I can say is that I better get a fricking good Christmas present!

A Game of Strategy

I’ve been sucked in to playing Scrabble online lately.   It blows.  I’m not a big player; never have been, so every challenger is wiping the floor with me.  I was mildly amused the other day when the Squeeze walked in the room, phone in hand and muttered in a ‘holier-than-thou’ voice “playing you is like playing a 12 year old!”  My next move was 42 points, which is about what I’m leading him by now.  He hasn’t played again since then.

This is what life is like.  Seeing where you are, where you want to go, and working out a strategy to get there; adapting when some knob head changes the rules and in the end, being comfortable about where you come out at.

I am not comfortable with life at the moment.  Trouble is I don’t know how to change it; put it back on the course it was supposed to be on.  

This would be news to the Squeeze.  He probably hasn’t noticed that anything has even changed yet, which I guess is part of the overall problem.  He may be bright in some regards, but he is a total novice at the game of relationships.

He once told me that the Harridan said to him “there’s just nothing there, is there...?”  And I’m beginning to wonder if she is not right.  He is empty in some regards.  I can go without the hearts and flowers all the time, but I’m not sure I can go with the emptiness.

Is it empty you ask..?  Yes; in some ways.  Mostly, I feel like I’m house sharing with a friend.  And lately, not even a very good friend; for when someone starts lying and hiding things from you, then they do so to keep you in the dark for a reason.

Not exactly a good foundation for a relationship.

Well, I may not win the relationship, but I’ll eventually beat him in Scrabble I’ve not doubt!

Snap

I feel like I’m sitting in the middle of a card game.  Could be ‘snap’, but the level of stress that evolves in this game, would indicate it is more likely ‘strip poker’.  

Hell, last night’s stress sent me into a vertigo migraine today that knocked me on my arse.  They are weird little things, the VM’s.  I’d not had one until a month or so ago.  They actually have me staggering.  So I staggered off to St Kilda Road to see my acupuncturist and then staggered my way around Chadstone to order my iPhone 4S and I’m sure anyone watching me would have thought “sheesh, early in the morning to be drinking… Isn’t it?”

Anyhow, back to the card game.  Why am I here?  I’ve no idea really.  All I know is that I’m sitting at the table, playing cards; and the Squeeze doesn’t have all his cards on the table.  He has a bag at his feet with things hidden inside.

So, could this be my imagination?  No.  I’m quite attuned to my surroundings; I have good instincts.  Besides, suddenly changing passwords, computers now shut; when you add a degree of secrecy – well any fool could see that the dynamics have changed.

I’m not talking about an affair.  I suspect it is about a need to keep some areas of his life closed off to me.  And typing those words made me actually feel the stress escalate – because I don’t trust 'hidden'.  What that generally means is decisions made behind my back; lies.  And 'hidden' to cover the lies.

And I’m not interested in a life with someone that will lie to me and hide things from me.  I trust him with all areas of my life; if I don’t receive the same, then what is the point?

What happens now?  Well I guess I start to shut down; because the only way I can live the life he wants, where I’m kept in the dark, have no opinion – is if I don’t love him.  He can’t have it both ways I’m afraid.

What’s with the Creamy Soda?

Last night was quiet around our place; well kind of.  The Girl had gone off on a “date” (I think) with the boyfriend come ex boyfriend and we got home, walked and then settled in to routine.

I’m not sure if he was in a particularly suicidal mood, or maybe I was just in a homicidal one, either way, it was one of those nights where every time he opened his mouth, I seriously wanted to put my fist in it.

In the calm light of day, I feel no less irritated.  Why is this person incapable of understanding what I believe, any mentally deficient person could pick up with ease?  And how do you get to 56, with no idea of relationships?  At least how do you get to 56 without being stabbed at least a couple of times!

Last night we had several run ins where my anger spiked to the point of conniption; where I actually wondered if I may just choke on my spleen or maybe my heart would just give up the ghost.

Firstly, a group of his friends were together and decided to call him so put him on speaker phone.  I had met one of the couples, but not the other which could be construed as weird, given that we have been going out together for two years and are, in fact, living together.

So in his first 3 sentences of discussion, I hear him say “you sound like the Harridan” (obviously using her name).

I huffed from the room and went off to shower, but upon my return, I asked how his friends are ever expected to associate “us” as an “us”, when he drags the ex wife into every conversation.  In my mind, even if he is insulting, that is simply reaffirming a “Moodle/Harridan” combo. 

Did he get what I was talking about?  Not a chance!  Damned idiot is incapable of understanding the intricacies of a relationship and inherited friends.  And this is particularly difficult given that they never actually separated anything.  Oh they separated the money; she took that, that’s for sure – but she wouldn’t relinquish the friends, so there is this weird three-way friendship thing ongoing.

My anger was still on a hair trigger (and remains there) when he waltzes in to the lounge room to flop on the sofa only pausing to ask: “whose is that can of creamy soda?”  He teams this with “the look”; the raised eyebrows.

So the question, when combined with his “look” basically said “whoooa; steady on there fatso.  What happened to the diet?”

Now to give you the whole picture; this is from a guy who went out for dinner and a movie the night before, complete with stuffing a Choc Top down his throat.  Then he arrives home earlier than I from work, where he proceeds to eat his way through the have bag of nuts that is left.  And all this before feeling superior because of his choice to have Lite and Easy for dinner…

After I gave him a tongue lashing I decided to snap an unsuspecting photo of Peter Perfect on my iPhone (below).

Yes people, this is what is giving me dieting lectures!!!!!!!!!!!

Moron.