My Life on a Plate

Hypocrite

Who's the hypocrite? Me, I confess.

I'd planned what I was going to write about today but now I'm here I feel like a good old self-centred gripe. They say problems are better out than in and confession is good for the soul, so I'm using the space to vent. I'm not man bashing in general, this is totally devoted to hubby bashing. I'm a hypocrite and feel guilty because I'm doing exactly what he accused me of, but in my defence I maintain I need to offload and store facts for future reference. I don't expect anyone who squirms at reading about other's problematic relationships to continue, but I make no apologies for being blunt and unpleasant.

I haven't played online Scrabble as frequently lately as I've been busy with WDC activities. But last night, my Canadian friend Paul was online, so I decided to play a couple of games. I've known Paul for almost three years, we enjoy playing together and I consider him a decent, intelligent and funny person. We have a lot in common and get on very well together. Two minutes into the game hubby wanders by on his way to the kitchen.

"Who are you playing?" He doesn't look at the screen any more you know.

"Pitaherb. Why?" We invent silly handles to play under.

"I thought so. Why does he have so many different names?"

Paul was playing as 'Gideon Drunk' last night. lol

"I've explained all this before. It's to do with ratings for one thing and it's just a bit of fun."

"He must be a pathetic person then, if ratings are so important."

"Well I do it too, so that makes me pathetic as well."

"What are you talking about tonight that's so enthralling?"

"Why do you need to know? I don't ask what you talk about on the golf course."

"Well, he shouldn't talk about me then."

"How do you know he talks about you?" He's stopped hacking into my inbox, inspecting history and temporary internet files, reading my letters and searching my files you know.

"I just do. He should mind his own f****** business." He's stopped swearing you know.

"Answer the question. How do you know we talk about you?"

"You must do, or you wouldn't be getting annoyed."

"Tell me what evidence you have to prove we talk about you. You've obviously been snooping again."

"Then you admit there are things you don't want me to see?"

"No, I'm just asking you to prove we talk about you."

"Maybe if you talked to me more, I wouldn't mind you talking to him."

"I've been talking to you most of the day. I've talked about holidays, family, the house and told you things about people on the writing site."

"You never tell me anything about HIM"

"I do. I told you about the hot weather in Canada last week and you said 'So what?' I told you he'd got a new job and you just pulled a face and grunted. You're obviously not interested."

"No, I'm not interested in arseholes."

"I don't want this conversation, so end of matter."

Five minutes later he's asleep on his chair and I'm left feeling tearful, angry and unable to concentrate. I told Paul nothing about all this. We actually talked about the weather, his job, his kids, films, books and had a few giggles over word puns and meanings. Okay, sometimes I do make jibes about hubby, I suspect most long married folk do and the way he carries on it's difficult not to want to tell someone out of sheer frustration. The fact that I'm broadcasting this on the site may seem unfair but it's my choice and hopefully a place he can't access.

I try to dwell on his good points. I try to keep the peace. I try to make things tick over without problems. I try to tell myself the future will be okay. But when I'm made to feel tense and uncomfortable for even tapping a keyboard and playing a simple word game then that's when I despair that things will never change or run smoothly and I don't know how I can take much more. I know there are two sides to every story too. But until he joins WDC and starts blogging you'll only ever hear mine!