Yay me! Did a little cleaning today. I snuck up on myself, didn’t let on I was about to start sweeping until BAM! broom in the hand, what am I doing? Sweeping. And I considered stopping sweeping but really, it wasn’t that bad. So there, finally found a way (this once, anyway) to make myself do unpleasant shit. Just start doing it, don’t even give yourself (myself) time to weasel out of it… or I would never have begun. Apartment was a disgusting mess, stepping barefoot around the filthy floor was like walking on gravel. Seriously, gross. I have been telling my sisters I’ll make them proper pancakes for ages, by now they have realised there are no pancakes. Their older sister is crap. But I do want to make them pancakes, I kick ass at pancakes. I kick pancake ass. So had to start tackling the mess, so I can invite actual human beings, even ones who love me unconditionally, into my home. And I’m nearly…. nearly there. We’re not quite ready for food preparation, it’s still pretty unhygienic and nasty, but I’ve made some headway. Scraped the debris of my everyday messy life to one side and shovelled it up. I don’t know where all this grey crap comes from. But it’s done now, the floor has been swept. I’m proud.
It sort of progressed naturally after I began throwing away random husband belongings. Shit he won’t miss, even if he does come back. An odd shoelace that has been roaming the apartment wistfully since before we split up. I always pick it up, put it somewhere safe, and forget all about it. It may be that I’m just constantly rehoming both laces, separately, but this time it surfaced and I decided “screw you, blue shoelace, this has gone on long enough.” And I threw him in the bin. Him? It. I threw it in the bin. It’s a shoelace, not my husband… anyway the satisfying removal of his odds and ends from MY apartment began after I came across some dubious exchange on facebook, between soon to be ex husband and “that girl I disliked when we were still together.” You know there’s always one, it’s an ex or a friend, someone HE gets along with but you don’t really see what’s so fun about her, and she’s not even that pretty or anything but still, the bitch-defenses kick in and you make sure she sees you bossing your man around and putting him down in front of people, and kissing him and making innuendos about some imaginary awesome sex life you have. And she knows what you’re doing. You’re saying, Go piss on another tree trunk, this one’s mine. And she hisses at you but your man never cops on that you are anything but the best of buddies.
So he was commenting something on her page that I didn’t understand, and she liked it, whatever it was, an in-joke or some sexual innuendo or just something boring but whatever it was, we’re split up now and it’s weird not knowing exactly what’s going on with your ex-other half. Actually I think he was more of a quarter, and I was like 3 quarters. I am in most of my relationships. My ego takes up space, and I don’t compromise well. Anyhoo, then there was a message he sent her saying “I miss you so so much, girl!” or an equivalent phrase in spanish. So I’m like, dang. They’re screwing. Now he’s across the ocean in his stupid home country but he’s coming back in October. I don’t honestly care if he’s fucking that bitch, she’s not prettier than me- she’s skinnier and more tanned, but I don’t care about that so much. I win anyway, because 1) I cheated repeatedly on husband. 2) I gave him so much shit about ever having had a mildly flirtatious email with an ex, while I cheated on him repeatedly 3) He never suspected anything 4) I’m skinnier now than when we were together, 5) I dumped him.
So I win. But still, it makes me feel shitty (I won’t say sad, I feel shitty) that he’s seeing this vile wench now, or has something going on with her anyway… because… it’s like he has a cool rebound going on, and I just rebounded onto an old best friend’s cock, and ruined shit. And then went back to my friendless dejected life with my buddy the laptop. And I was kind of wanting him to hate me and move on, so I could feel less like a heartless bitch about breaking up with him for reasons of “I want more cock” and “You’re starting to piss me off” which obviously I didn’t tell him. I told him we were growing apart, I didn’t feel ready for responsibility, we have trouble communicating. True too, but… I wanted more cock and he was pissing me off with his…personality. Anyway I felt like a bitch wrecking what he seemed to think was awesome blissful married life, so I was hoping he’d move on and find some stupid wench to be amused at his repetition of anecdotes from 6 years ago. But now that he seems to have done just that… and with a woman I know, and never liked cause she gave him the eye… and I told him that, I was like “dude, that bitch was looking at you, I’ll cut her, and I’ll cut you, understood?” and he probably laughed at that because I was still in the pre-buying, talking about my future swiss army knife period. So I feel like in his mind, he might feel like he’s got one over on me. It makes me sorta kinda want to smack him back with a, yeah well I cheated on you LOADS. But obviously I won’t do that.
Anyway I feel pretty shitty indeed. It’s like my first bike. Well, tricycle. This is why I never learnt to ride a bike until last year, by the way. My mum got me a tricycle for christmas and it was plastic and has a horse’s head. I loved it. It was my best friend (now I have a laptop) and I used to talk to it, walking around wheeling it with my arm around its neck. My mum said I used to whisper to it and stroke its mane. But I wouldn’t ride it. I think I anthropomorphised it too much, I didn’t want to hurt my horse. Except, sometimes other children would come to play (rarely….so little has changed) and they would get on my trike and ride around. And I would scream and wail and partly I wanted to protect my horse from being abused by mean other children, partly I couldn’t bear that anyone else was using something of mine even if I had left it aside. So I would cry or scream or be a bitch until I got my horse back, and then even though I didn’t want to ride it around, I would cycle it around manicaly so no one else could. Until my mother made me share, or something.
Anyway, I don’t want husband back and I’m not going to ride him just to keep that harpy’s paws off him, but I still feel the mild indignant pain of having one of my possessions used by someone else. It’ll pass- I aint that cut up about it. But it feels weird, you know? We did have a really awesome and sweet relationship for a lot of the time. I wouldn’t have gotten married if it wasn’t special. It’s tough though. It’s a lot easier to break up with someone and then when the dust settles, the clarity and distance from emotion tells you “well that was a fucking good decision, look how much of a dick he was… I don’t know what I saw in him,” and to be honest, yeah, he has turned out to be a total dick in a lot of ways. But he was my total dick! He was mine, I beat him down from an unattainable man who didn’t care about me to a docile pet who was sweet and nice and loving and who tolerated me until I dumped him. And now what, he’s on the rebound? I’m happy for him, except he owes me money. And how dare he get a rebound when I don’t have one. Anyway. I realise you may want to get off the crazy train at this point, so here we go, I’ll stop. You can get off now- I’ll keep on going, you can count on that.
And I’m gonna keep throwing out his useless crap that’s lying around. It’s terribly satisfying.