Thursday, October 20, 2011
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!
Posted by Mistress at 5:38 PM