When she's out of his life, last few bits of driving her shit around, just to make sure it's the fuck out and etc. She starts jawing and jabbering about her family shit. "So and so brother's, sister's, husband's, second cousin..." blah blah fucking blah.
He had a moment of sanity. As he said to us: "Hey. You walked the fuck away from me. I don't know why you want to tell me this crap. This is no longer relevant to me. Not interested."
Object lesson right there on getting her the fuck out of yours ASAP when things go south. Otherwise you're still wasting time, energy, life on someone who has basically said "I don't want you between my legs, piss off..." yet she is quite happy to suck the rest of everything out of you.
The actual words and excuses she used don't matter. They are meaningless. She still wants out of your life...
...and you're still wasting your time, energy, life on that. Until you realize.
You ain't related to it.
You ain't married to it.
You ain't best buddies with it. (Fucking aye you ain't best buddies with it! What, you nuts?)
You shouldn't have it in your life any more. It's just another leech on you.
Literally a leech. Still sucking down your time, energy, life.
When what you really want to do is what he's doing. Makes his dinner in the skillet. Eats out of the skillet. Cleans up and puts it in the rack. Life is simple, life is great.
Nice, simple, easy, not 15 separate pots per meal for something that really tastes only mediocre. Then she bitches about how long a day she's had etc. That doesn't actually matter. Not to you. You just want a decent, filling, tasty meal. Here she's put 15 separate pots into the sink, is bitching about cleanup (trying to get you to do it), and she asks the loaded question: "What'd you think of dinner?"
You can be the tactless "complete asshole" and say "it was okay". Because that's all it was. It was an okay meal.
You learn not to do that if you're married. You *know* what she'll be like for the next month - and intermittently for the rest of your life, whenever she feels like being a bitch.
So you grit your teeth, praise the meal to the skies, then go over to her and hug and kiss her and guide her to the couch and sit her down and clean the goddamn 15 pots that she messed up. Funny, this one looks like all she did with it was boil water. Better not mention that.
Yet hang on man.
She doesn't want you between her legs. Piss off.
By all means, be as stupid as you want. I'll continue to laugh at you for bein' a fuckin' dipshit.
The longer it takes you to wake up, the harder I'll be laughing at you once you get it together.
Yes, I know that's crushing your soul. So? Do you really have any actual, valid reason for being such a completely stupid idiot?
I didn't think so.
Do I *actually* enjoy your pain? Fuck no!
I am gonna laugh at you though. The more that my laughter hurts you, the harsher the lesson. Which is really all that I can honestly do for you. Drive that lesson home into your heart, rub salt into it, and make you hurt so badly that you will never forget that hurt which was done to you.
By me? You know better. You did it to yourself. You let *her* do it to you. You're just too chickenshit to admit it to yourself.
Back to him. He's been dating around. As I guess many do, when divorce hits us. Conditioned to have a wimminz in our lives, come hell or high water...
...except that these wimminz are expecting to go out. All the time. "What are we going to do this Friday night?" she asks him. "Eh. The weather's not that great. I think I'll have myself a nice bourbon on lemon ice, sit in front of the fire with a book, relax and read for the night." Sounds good to me. To her though: "What what what what what?"
And she completely cannot understand it. The concept of actually stopping, relaxing, doing something quietly - it means nothing to her. It's meaningless. She has to be *out there*, *being seen*, *doing something* - all that social shit that in her mind means "a good time".
As he says: he'd rather sit in front of a nice fire, sipping bourbon, reading a good book. The drama and insanity can stay out of his door. He's got his shelter, warmth, a good-tasting drink, and some interesting and thoughtful mental stimulation.
He's starting to realize the joys of personal peace and quiet.
Not hanging around with someone who talks too fuckin' much. Especially about utterly meaningless drivel.
Brother, have a bourbon. You've earned it. Good on you for starting to realize what life actually *is* to you, versus what other people *think life is* and *think your life should be*.