The End of a relatively short and destructive Era

Okay so I'm finally single (Again) but this time there are no tears of sadness or tears of regret only tears of "Why the hell did it take me such a long time to end it?"

I can now rejoice in my house (Alone)(Again) in my grey knickers and contemplate my future without having to hold anybody else's hand and comfort them about why their life is so unbelievably shitty and stagnant.

I'm actually surprised it took me the whole 9months to put an end to such a poor atrocity. We never went out to eat, he never really cooked, he never made an effort to dress himself appropriately, never thought to wear the items of clothing I bought for him out of politeness, never bothered to look for work or try to keep the job I found him or do anything else that is a prerequisite for a relationship.

Towards the end I just got sick and tired of being, well, sick and tired- Of having another mouth to feed - one that hadn't been growing and living inside me for 9 months but was merely living off me, contributing here and there when he did manage to scrimp the money together, which happened very infrequently, to buy me some nuggets from good ol' happy and smiling Micky dees.

As sad as it may seem- I am revelling in the new lease of life I have now found for myself- Perhaps staring at the hole in the wall where the telly used to be makes me sound like a lonely and regretful soul- But no, I am not sad just unnerved that the hole in the wall that stares before me is not an ATM machine.

In fact, I still have visions of him unscrewing the brackets off the wall and that makes me a tad squeamish. I didn't actually watch him taking the TV down because quite frankly neither one of us would have left the flat alive- I, instead, chose to chain smoke my way through a packet of cancer sticks, while listening intently in the kitchen.

And then came the tirade of abuse.

The old beaten down spiel when a man has nothing else left to say except to tear apart at the very being of a woman's soul and character.

"You're too old anyway", "People warned me about you and I should have listened", and my favourite, "You're a slag".

What actually makes me laugh is the fact that for months our sex life was virtually non existent and I certainly wasn't indulging in extra curricular adult activity with anyone else, so how the hell can I be a slag?????

I have come to the conclusion that it may well be the act of rejection that turns the quiet ones into raging bulls of demonic fire, unleashing the toxic and poisonous venom that worms its way into my inner child and for hours on end all I can hear are those harsh and untrue words ringing in my ears.

That was, I think, the intended effect, was it not???

So I rise above it, dust myself off, think about how I have come through worse situations, heard far worse lyrics-

Then I look at myself- in my mirror -and I say "I love you, I will never let you down, I am your best friend til the end and we are strong. You can always rely on me for I am the truth and the beauty and will be forever more."

And as I raise my champagne flute in the air I toast myself and give a huge pat on the back and say, "We've come this far kiddo and we got plenty more to do, to see and to achieve. Here's to success" (Alone)

Cheers!

Relationshits

For all you eagle eyed and meticulous literates out there, YES, I did actually spell the title of this blog correctly. I aptly named it so because, I for one, believe that the subject of "Relationships" is a very very tricky and sticky one indeed.

Oh how I moaned for years upon years, crying to anyone who would listen to my lonely soul pleading and begging and wondering and questioning, "WHY OH WHY am I single?" "Doesn't anyone love me, am I not pretty enough or special enough- Am I too fat? Is it because I don't shut up? Is it because I am a bit of a nightmare, handful, headache?"

Well having been in a relationship for nearly 1 year (*Groans) it seems like an eternity, why on earth was I complaining before? I quite liked my solitude, my comfortable evenings just me and the pooches, watching Eastenders with no fear of someone changing the channel when I diverted my attention from the telly for a Milli-micro-nano second.

I mean Jesus Christ, I can actually check my Facebook notifications whilst listening to dear ol' Dot Cotton reciting verses from the bible. Women can multitask remember. But now having revelled in the moment of being a couple all those months ago, he scornfully reminds me that it was I who begged him to move in.

In reality, I remember it as so desperately wanting the 32 inch Samsung to move in and to sing and hum on the newly painted white wall (courtesy of the other half) not actually wanting to share my fridge space, bed, underwear drawer, late nights, gas, electricity, nice biscuits, Cheerios, bloody Heinz's spaghetti hoops and other important stuff that makes a big bloody difference when you have to share it for such a prolonged period of time.

So, I have to come to my own revelation, not anybody else's, that being single does not mean being lonely, it means having independence, being strong, not having to clean up someone else's rubbish, clothes, putting down the toilet lid, opening the bathroom window again and again and probably being a lot bloody richer too.

Okay, so I don't have to grab the ordinary Joe off the road to change my light bulb anymore- I'll just sit in the dark til my girlfriends come over to help!

When I'm cooking, there will be no more cooking two separate meals because I kinda like my food and if I don't then I'm sure Bully and Coco will gobble it up appreciatively, tails wagging while salivating.

The conclusion is I finally realise that cohabiting is just not for me and while the billions of people do it and somehow enjoy it and have relationships that last for years and years, I quite frankly, don't want to.

There I said it.