The art of dating when you are in your 40’s is a perilous, soul destroying mission. I blame my misfortune with men on the 'fairy tale factor'... That never ending belief that love conquers all and that one day a prince will come.
Reality isn't even close to the fairy tale. Especially when the prince doesn’t just come with baggage – he comes with a bitter, money grubbing ex-wife clinging to his back like a hump.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
I love the word ‘conniption’; but in case you are wondering exactly what it means: conniption is a fit of violent emotion, such as anger or panic…Very unsqueeze like to have any emotion really.He is almost serial killer in his lack of it! Romance too.
Anyhow, last night the Squeeze comes about as close to having a conniption as he comes to it (if you don’t count him going ballistic while driving).His “conniption barometer” and mine are vastly different.I blow my top over what I think are important things (which is every damned thing).
Mostly, my conniptions are in regards to the slovenly kid or the Harridan - sending one of her belittling or holier than thou text messages that are still quite plentiful. On the weekend it was "I could almost hear your whining voice in that message." But even worse than her "Everything I DO is for the Kid!" messages that come while I am raising HER kid more than she does; I hate her “orders” texts. It's as though she had changed her name to “she who must be obeyed”.Several times she has started a tirade with “do I have to remind you…” and I’ve wanted to send a quick reply from his phone to say “do I need to remind you that I divorced your ass so that I didn’t have to hear you reminding me…” but if I did that, he’d have a conniption;)
So last night, I was somewhat surprised when he had a tiny conniption which was associated with his inability to find a handful of phone chargers cords that I had spoted earlier sitting in my copper champagne bucket, turning a piece of art into a sack of crap! "Why do I have to move stuff?" he asked and I seriously tried to bite my tongue and not shout "why do you have to keep leaving stuff every where!!!"
Of course I had moved them.Why wouldn’t I pick up the tangle of spider legs protruding from my gorgeous copper ice bucket and put them in the large drawer of the coffee table; dedicated to Squeeze paraphernalia such his creepy collection of wrestling porn – old, fat, greasy guys in big speedo’s with mullet haircuts – locking one another in greasy clinches and breaking this up with the odd fake leap from the ring rope.
Hmmm what a pity he couldn’t have been as upset over the fact that 8-10 of Starbucks mugs are missing – but the theft of my mugs by some unseen entity get's no more than a shrug of the shoulders. The Squeeze went through every cupboard in the house; then the garage; pausing to ask stuipd questions such as "did you pack them up and put them outside..?" Or my personal favourite, "did you give them away..?"
WTF? Who the hell gives their mugs away? Even worse, is dolling them out like I'm living on the ark, because they are going in 2's! A couple of weeks ago I was down to 12. This week I"m down to 10! If the Bermuda Triangle Cupboard keeps this up, I'll be down to 8 next week.
But of course the only logical answer is that the kid is messing with my mind; idiot. And if he doesn't stop, I'll be messing with his bloody face!