Stand by Your Man
He got her home safely and she is now upstairs pretending to be asleep.
I cooked some pork and herb sausages and ate them wrapped in soda bread in lieu of a properly balanced meal, since they'd stopped off at the Evil M on the way. They also came home bearing gifts. Not just the black tights for school I had hinted would be most welcome but also two jumpers, a quite lovely skirt, some jazzy tights for casual wear, some knickers, some thermal vests and a set of jazzy underwear comprising vest and shorty pants that were the in thing in beach wear last summer.
Thankfully the line was drawn at a pair of boots given that she has two pairs already and the shop the duffel coat his mother had wanted to buy wasn't available in her size.
She went just about straight to bed but as far as I can tell she hasn't settled.
He's finally fucked off. Long after I wanted of course and long after his being absent could be any use to me.
I'm sitting here and I've had about three units of alcohol and I'll probably get through quite a bit more before the night's out (or before he comes back). I need to dry out desperately. Today, after the after effects had begun to lift I swore I wouldn't drink today but, well, as I've already recorded I have done so.
Currently I'm listening to Tammy extolling the dubious benefits of Standing By Your Man.
Yes, Tammy, Sometimes it is hard to be a woman and it is equally hard to give your love to just a man. You're bloody right I've had bad times, and he the fucking freeloader has had plenty of good times; I've understood that all too well.
I long ago lost count of the number of times I'd forgiven him, and I've forgiven him plenty of times since. Divining quite why he is the way he is would challenge a psycho-analyst of freudian genius if not necessarily freudian persuasion. Trouble is, Tammy I no longer love him and I no longer love him largely because there's nothing about him I can be proud of, given that he's such a poor excuse for a man.
And that's why I justify so long ago denying him my two arms or any other part of my body to get warm with on even the coldest of nights. And he made bloody sure he wasn't lonely.
You say "show the world you love him", but what if that's a lie; a downright filthy dirty lie? What should I do then Tammy. Should I walk away or stand, like I have been since November 1991. Giving him the best (and reproductive) years of my life. He can fuck of and fuck someone anytime and get a second family but I won't be able to. I've squandered my life on the fucker.
And that sect his mother's an adherent of would honour me for having stood by him all this time, kept my head down and taken the abuse. They would think me a good woman for having wasted my life; my God given life.
I cooked some pork and herb sausages and ate them wrapped in soda bread in lieu of a properly balanced meal, since they'd stopped off at the Evil M on the way. They also came home bearing gifts. Not just the black tights for school I had hinted would be most welcome but also two jumpers, a quite lovely skirt, some jazzy tights for casual wear, some knickers, some thermal vests and a set of jazzy underwear comprising vest and shorty pants that were the in thing in beach wear last summer.
Thankfully the line was drawn at a pair of boots given that she has two pairs already and the shop the duffel coat his mother had wanted to buy wasn't available in her size.
She went just about straight to bed but as far as I can tell she hasn't settled.
He's finally fucked off. Long after I wanted of course and long after his being absent could be any use to me.
I'm sitting here and I've had about three units of alcohol and I'll probably get through quite a bit more before the night's out (or before he comes back). I need to dry out desperately. Today, after the after effects had begun to lift I swore I wouldn't drink today but, well, as I've already recorded I have done so.
Currently I'm listening to Tammy extolling the dubious benefits of Standing By Your Man.
Yes, Tammy, Sometimes it is hard to be a woman and it is equally hard to give your love to just a man. You're bloody right I've had bad times, and he the fucking freeloader has had plenty of good times; I've understood that all too well.
I long ago lost count of the number of times I'd forgiven him, and I've forgiven him plenty of times since. Divining quite why he is the way he is would challenge a psycho-analyst of freudian genius if not necessarily freudian persuasion. Trouble is, Tammy I no longer love him and I no longer love him largely because there's nothing about him I can be proud of, given that he's such a poor excuse for a man.
And that's why I justify so long ago denying him my two arms or any other part of my body to get warm with on even the coldest of nights. And he made bloody sure he wasn't lonely.
You say "show the world you love him", but what if that's a lie; a downright filthy dirty lie? What should I do then Tammy. Should I walk away or stand, like I have been since November 1991. Giving him the best (and reproductive) years of my life. He can fuck of and fuck someone anytime and get a second family but I won't be able to. I've squandered my life on the fucker.
And that sect his mother's an adherent of would honour me for having stood by him all this time, kept my head down and taken the abuse. They would think me a good woman for having wasted my life; my God given life.
posted by Enyo @ 9:38 pm
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