All is Right in the World

Well.  I can rest easy now that all is right with the world.  Sleep will be plentiful tonight.    The Squeeze is confident “people” agree with him that I need to step back and not stress that he is a moodle who does as told and pays for all and sundry.

Of course if I listened to my "people", I wouldn’t have lasted past the 4 month argument to take his wedding ring off; complete with the excuse of “I like it!”

Idiot.

The Youth of Today

When I started high school, I wasn’t exactly ‘Miss Popular’.  I wasn’t one of the high school elite, those fantastically pretty girls with perfect figures, buckets of confidence and parents that obviously had bigger pay checks than mine judging by their clothes. 

I was impossibly shy and a little on the pudgy side. 

To make matters worse, over the holidays prior to the start of high school, I had seen a commercial with an elfin faced goddess who sported a very short pixie-ish haircut - and I fell in love.  Not with the model, but with the style.  I knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt that I would be sophistication personified, starting school looking like that.

Up until that time I had quite long blonde/brown hair that had curl.  My mother stood at the hairdressers elbow as she cut, sniffling, watching the tresses hit the floor.  I didn’t care if it was beautiful hair and I ‘was going to regret it’...  I was a grown up, my life was about to change.  I was about to enter the real world.  I felt about ten feet tall throughout that cut.

This lasted up until the moment I looked in the mirror and didn’t see myself suddenly transformed into an elfin faced goddess.  Instead, I looked like a pudgy boy.

Where am I going with this?  Well given the fact that I was a shy, pudgy, boy thing at school, I didn’t get to date much.  I’m not even sure I actually even thought of dating!  Having read that back, I remember that I swooned with unrequited love for the first few years of high school; so I did think about it – I just didn’t get to experience it.

So my familiarity in the dating rites of twelve year old boys is somewhat limited. 

This makes my ability to find resolution to the argument between myself and the squeeze a monumental quest.  If I thought it would work, I could take a tonka truck over there, slam it on the table and say “ready to talk yet moron?”

Silent Treatment:  a sulky twelve year old trapped inside a fifty-six year old body is incredibly unattractive. 

What’s in a Name?

My sleep patterns have been out this week.  Probably why I’ve been off with a migraine today – you can only exist with interrupted sleep for so long before you crash and burn.  And when I wake up in the middle of the night, my mind goes into full Rubik’s Cube mode.  I pull apart a million thoughts and twist them around; looking for answers.  Not that I ever find them.

What keeps my mind active at 1 am today?  The fact that if the moodle and I end; what the hell happens to my blog?

Dating a Hunchback – I loved the name when I first thought of it but if he rolls out of the circus tent; bow tie blinking like a Christmas tree and little paws tapping and turning that ball – then I’m pretty certain I don’t want to look for another Hunchback. 

Doing this shit once in a lifetime is bad enough!

9 Crimes

Funny.  Not sure why that song popped into my head when I sat down to write.  Dictates my mood I guess.   The squeeze and I, as a pendulum; swing kind of wildly from side to side.  Still, eventually it must reach a finale.  End, or next phase; who knows? 

The trouble is, things seem fine one moment, but then erupt.

I understand how that happens.  He is totally lost, but then again, it would require emotion to comprehend how it works; and he really is an emotional puddle.  At odd moments, I almost feel sorry for him.  It is like being picked up and thrown into a totally different world; where everyone speaks a language you don’t understand, but more importantly – you just can’t learn. You never will.  Where you are colour blind and someone’s words are ‘red’.  And for the life of me, I don’t know how to explain it.  How do I explain the colour red to someone that can only see in tones of grey?

If I sit and think about it all rationally, I understand it quite well.  I have an issue – or several.  They all involve his inability to shut down his life with the harridan. 

The issue is never resolved.  Our cycle is that I erupt; I explain; he breathes all the right words…. Says all the right things… can shut it down; can move on – but of course, he never actually does.  He can’t.  He tries; he just can’t.

So how do I coast along happily?  Because in reality, I have to know and understand that there is a reason that he can never put me first; that he can’t seem to shut this person down from interfering in our lives.  Why he can’t stop paying for her.  Why he can’t divorce her… Why he can’t put my feelings ahead of hers.

And it is in those moments when I face the reality of that truth, that it guts me. 

It is at that moment that I walk away.

When we were friends, I pitied him.  I pitied the fact that he loved a person that was so obviously unworthy of that love.  I thought her a manipulative bitch who whistled through fingers every single time he even thought about finding happiness.  And each time, he would shut the door on happiness and run home.  Happiness for my moodle lasted weeks, then it lasted days – but still he ran home - bow tie; hoops of fire, and all.

Now I see why any life he could have of chosen would never have worked.  Even if he hadn’t of gone home, I doubt many could have coped with this evolution that barely moves.  I mean hell, we are 1.5 years in and discussing moving in together and he is still paying her health insurance.  Has no hesitation in dumping me when commanded too; and doesn’t seem to understand or care about the damage that causes to our relatiohship.

Our relationship is like a bucket – full of water.  Each time he puts me last; leaves me home; goes for the “happy family” option – he dunks a cup into the bucket and empties it.

I’m not sure how much is left anymore.  But these days, I pity me.

One Day My Prince Will Come…

And the moron I am currently dating is so obviously not him…

It is Thursday.  Monday is Valentine’s Day.

Due to the emotional and financial vampires we have bred, things are a little tight in the financial department at the moment; especially given that Valentine’s Day falls on the 14^th and we are both paid monthly on the 15^th. 

So… we didn’t exactly have anything earth shattering planned.

I don’t think I’m over the top on ‘presents’.  Spending a fortune has never been the key to gift giving (I’m sure he would breathe a sigh of relief here…) however, putting a little thought into it and choosing something a little different as opposed to the generic gift, no matter how small, is important.

So is spending time. 

I’m talking about quality time; alone… Just us.  That is something we don’t get very often these days.  Actually, that is something we have never really had.  When in ‘Clean Freak Hell’ we have that permeating odour of ‘who the hell knows what’ combined with a deplorable mess.  Even without the less than romantic setting of filth, there is a kid at every turn.  Always a kid. 

Could be kid 2 who lives there or kid 3 who comes and goes via access or worse, kid 1 who doesn’t live there at all, doesn’t require access, just comes to eat the food, leave a mess and have slappers steal my stuff.

Yes, we are pretty light on in the ‘quality time’ department.  Whereas once we could circumvent the issue of nil quality time when on his side of town, this all changed when I dragged only girl back from out of town so that she could turn her life around.  My relatively cosy existence evaporated and given that quite often she has her boyfriend over… Well let’s just say that even though the ambience is better, quality time is nonexistent.

Sadly, the lack of quality time is a fact of life when we both have kids – even if we should be living alone most of the time.  Shit happens.  Kids come and go, find their feet then get knocked down again and need another dose of finding their feet.  Add to that friends and families and it’s a wonder that anyone ever actually has any form of romance at all!

Still.  Every so often, if only a couple of times a year, you have to turn off the world and put your partner first.  Those days could be counted on one hand.  Birthday.  Christmas.  Easter.  Anniversary.  Valentine’s Day.

So you can imagine my disappointment when I received this via email this afternoon:

I have to look after boy 3 on Monday and Tuesday so we might have to postpone Valentine’s Day till Wednesday.

I reply to say:  “You don’t have to.  You choose to.  She is not God.  You can say ‘sorry, busy.”   But no; apparently he can’t, because she has to go on a school camp that she obviously only heard about yesterday!

Postpone Valentine’s Day??? 

You can’t just postpone events to fit in with the harridan.

Oh I’m sorry, let me correct that – not another soul on the planet would “postpone” an event to pander to that dictating bitch – except my little moodle.

And sadly, I’m more annoyed at the fool I go out with because he leaps onto that circus stool when she cracks the whip and attempts to stand on his head. 

Sigh.  Just once, I would like my feelings and needs put before hers.