Buttered Up.

Buttered up.

Before we moved out of the house, I made a breakfast sandwich for him at his mother’s place.

I usually fry eggs in butter, and for him, I used more than usual because he likes his eggs well done and I didn’t want it to stick.  I also added peppers and onions to the pan, which had temporarily increased the visible liquid.  If you’ve ever even put something in the microwave, you know that liquid cooks off.  

He started streaming that it was going to be greasy and disgusting.  That I was a fucking moron and I couldn’t do anything right.  

He did it in front of his mother, who told him to shut up when people make food for you.  He glared at her until I finished his breakfast sandwich

He assured me he wouldn’t eat it.  I told him if he didn’t want to eat it, then I would.  That was sufficient motivation; he wouldn’t want me to get to eat without him, that would mean I was more special than him or something.

Then he praised it.  It was delicious.

Do you think there was an apology?  You already know the answer to that.

My parents moved closer to my old neighbourhood. I often have to drive by to visit them.

I still get chills and that heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach when i think that I might see him. Or worse, that he might see me.

Ghosts

Driving in our his neighbourhood this evening. That tightness in my chest returned.  I held my breath when I drove past our his road.  

The neighbourhood is haunted.  Cursed.

Today in Review

Me: I have a lot of work to get done today, and people are depending on me. Oh shoot, I have two appointments that will interrupt my day too. I should probably get started.

Brain: Maybe you should panic and do nothing for four hours instead.

Me: ... well, no, if I plan and start n....

Brain: PANIC AND DO NOTHING FOR FOUR HOURS!!!

I used to get a little satisfaction when he'd make me tweeze his unibrow.

He was such a baby about it, especially since he insisted I get Brazilians for him. So it was kind of gratifying hearing him whine.

I may have pulled some of those hairs a little slower than necessary...

Damned if you don’t

I hated running into people we both knew after he’d kicked me out.

He'd sent me to buy him dinner one night and his cousin was at the restaurant.  In retrospect I am confident she would not have known that I was aware she was there.  To be honest, I saw her for only a moment before looking away and my back was to her for the remainder of my time there.

I was his ex as far as his family was concerned, and wasn’t keen on an awkward conversation. Plus, I didn’t see who her companion was; she could have been on a date. So I kept to myself, went to the bar, paid, and left.

I told him that I saw his cousin with someone. If I ever went anywhere and someone told him that they saw me, but I didn’t mention it, he’d lose it.  He’d say I was withholding information and this was evidence that I was the same monstrous slut I always was.

So I told him and as per the usual, he used that information to torture me. 

He did some investigation to see who his cousin was with.  He made a point to call and tell me his sister and his cousin were very offended that I chose not to say hello. He said they congratulated him on being rid of me.

That’s possible I guess. But I’m calling bullshit. Just another opportunity to make me feel terrible.

Retrospect.

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