Forget trying to be positive. It doesn’t help and makes me even more depressed.
Our first marriage therapy went well.
Second not so good. He hardly spoke to me for days after.
The third was still a struggle. There's so much going on. It's been scratching to get out for years and now the surge to be heard gets 50 minutes a week. I won't be defeated. Not yet anyway.
Three things that happened since the last session that have made me hate him
1) Hellish Thursday
Spent the morning taking his dear lovely grandfather to Gatwick (he'd had a fall and is in a wheelchair). But it was much much longer than expected because the airport is crap. I was pushing an old man in a wheelchair and pulling the luggage trolley behind me. How did they expect me to get up the escalator, let alone walk a mile up a ramp. Ended up on a car park roof where we waited half an hour for an electric buggy.
Drove fast to get back to computer at 2.30pm. Thereupon discovered major flaws with work emails. Threw PC and laptop into car and headed back PAST Gatwick to Haywards Heath, where the computer doctor lives on one of those modern estates in beige.
But before I left I called the Prince to explain what was going on. I apologised and said I would not be able to pick up Rosie and so please could he do it? Instead he said he’d been asked to help out at work with the Peru earthquake (in his spare time, he finishes at 3.30pm).
“It’s the first time I’ve been asked to use my Spanish and I really want to do it.”
“I need you to help me,” I said.
“I’ll call in half an hour and see if you’ve sorted it,” he said.
I put the phone down perplexed. Half an hour ain’t gonna fix this problem and duly he rang back 30 minutes later.
“Are you still going?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you’re not going to make it by half past five if you haven’t left now”
The sad thing is he wasn't concerned at all about whether I made it in time – there was only one thing vexing him. Himself. He didn’t want to come home and collect Rosie. He wanted to show his dedication to his work buddies but what about his girlfriend? He's NEVER left work for a domestic crisis... EVER.
(Not even on the day I couldn't lift my head off the pillow - or the day my Granny fell and was rushed to hospital and had a pacemaker fitted. I spent a lip biting day at the hospital dealing with the escalating health problems, trying to be strong for my terrified Grandmother but having to sneak out to the corridor to arrange childcare because the Prince wouldn't leave work early. That day I almost died of hypertension racing back at a stupid stupid speed and then getting stuck in 20 mile gridlock on the M25. And I didn't collect Rosie until 8.30pm from her classmate's house in Blackheath.) But I digress...
The Prince thinks because I’m working at home, it’s not really work. I’ve been getting up at the same time as him (6am) yet my workload appears to have increased.
Since working at home I’ve suddenly been tasked with all the school drop offs, the pick ups, dinner, bath and bedtime. Nine times out of ten the Prince comes home, goes to the “bathroom” then flags infront of the TV. At least when I commuted I only got to do either the morning or evening childcare.
I wonder what he thinks he gives this “partnership”?
Back to nightmare Thursday… in Haywards Heath for an hour and a half. Migraine firmly set in place. Computer doctor works miracles. But migraine is hurting and he’s talking an alien language. Feeling ill and want to go home.
Handle recovered PC as if it’s a premature baby. I place her gently on the front seat. Driving out of surburban nowheresville, back on the road to London, it is now half seven and I call the Prince. He sounds grumpy.
“Rosie’s in bed. What shall we have for dinner?” he says.
Grapple through jaded mind as I follow signs to the M23 to think what could possibly be in the fridge.
“Um, um, um, I don’t know,” (Why the fuck can’t he just say “Oh listen you must be feeling so exhausted after your stressful day, I’ll fix blah blah for dinner and have it ready for you when you get home” He doesn’t.)
I remember the smoked salmon. “Ok, how about smoked salmon and scrambled egg?”
“I can’t do scrambled egg,” he quips.
“I’ll do it when I get back,” I stupidly offer.
“When will that be?”
“Should be around half past eight but I’m not going to hurry, I’ve got a long drive ahead.”
He sounded so cross. I accidentally cut him off but when I called back (twice) he didn’t answer! Finally he did and he was really pissed off because I said I didn’t want to hurry. He shouted with such gentle undertones:
"OK, I SAID DON'T HURRY... I WILL WAIT FOR YOU."
Wept convulsively ALL the way home, absolutely all of it.
Got home. Eyes puffy. Look like Ike Godsey from the Waltons. Made dinner. Worked at computer all evening.
Friday night – he was tired as he’s been looking after his grandfather a lot, plus getting up at 6. See? I acknowledge these things (part of the reason I did all the drop offs and pick ups and now seem to have set a precedent).
So he was asleep in bed when I went up. I kissed him gently and stroked his head (don’t worry, no sex expected) and went to turn his light off. But he’s got one of those ridiculous lamps that you have to touch to turn on and off and this one DOES NOT WORK. I stood next to him for about five minutes, touching it fast, hard, lightly, dampening my fingers, tapping it. Anything I tried didn’t switch the light off. So I pulled the darn plug out (which he hates) and went over my side of the bed. He raised his head Loch Ness monster style, checked his plug socket and said in hateful tones
“why did you unplug it?”
“Because it wouldn’t switch off.”
“Only you are so stupid as to not know how to switch the lamp off, it’s so easy.”
Should I just give up being nice to him as it always seems to deliver such a harsh blow?
Saturday - Rosie's at her friend Finn's house again. The Prince and I go to the movies. After we take a wander round Greenwich market - hand in hand! He says:
"I suppose one thing this stuff with my Grandfather has shown me is that you have to live your life.. you know, it's too short."
Hope soars! Might he be coming round?
"You know, I'm glad I bought that scooter.... you only live once."
2) Heart bash
Then, Sat night in bathroom – talking about Rosie’s little friend who’s 4 and started getting erections.
“Maybe he’ll be a highly sexed man,” I said.
“I can’t remember when I got my first erection,” the Prince replied.
“Maybe that’s why you’re not highly sexed,” (it wasn’t an insult it’s fact).
"What do you mean?” he said.
“Well let’s face it, you don’t appear to need or want sex very much.”
“I used to,” he said. And didn't qualify it. More bashing to my poor old heart.
Later in bed – ask him if he still fancies me. He says he does. Ask him why he won’t have sex with me anymore. He says “I’m too tired.” It’s the catchphrase of his thirties.
3) Sunday lie in
Sunday am – 7.30, get up and put Scooby Doo on for Rosie so I can sleep in (am very very tired at moment). Go back to bed. The Prince gets up and goes to the loo (irritating because he could have done the Scooby Doo run). Comes back to bed as I’m trying to fall back to sleep and it feels like the elephant in the room has got into bed with us. He’s thundering about all over the place, getting comfy to read his book, going online to read the Sundays. Whatever. Just as I get to sleep Rosie starts patting my face.
“Wake up mummy, Scooby Doo’s finished.”
I actually hear the Prince say “come on let’s go downstairs and look for your toy.” Inside I smiled, hurrah a lie in. But he buggered off by himself and she kept on patting my face.
Got up in foul mood. Came downstairs and he was lying on the floor watching motor racing on the plasma. I complained vociferously which made him fly in to a rage.
“WHAT HAVE I DONE WRONG? JUST TELL ME WHAT I’VE DONE WRONG!!!” Over and over. Went and got the washing out of machine and started hanging it up (third lot this weekend).
Every time I think I like him again (like after we saw the Bourne Ultimatum yesterday) he does something to set me right back. He’s hostile, rude and not very supportive. This is a farcical marriage.
In the interests of fairness I should add a few positives:
1) he's actually asked about going on holiday just the three of us in October to Egypt!
2) he did Rosie's dinner and bedtime today (Sunday)
3) he unloaded the dishwasher today, yesterday and Friday and did our dinner twice (and last night cleared up afterwards too)
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