Sdtrk: ‘At night’ by the Cure
This morning, I was awakened by my bloody phone ringing at sometime after 8.30am. I lurched out of bed, saw it was a number that I didn’t recognise, and switched the ringer off. Roughly three minutes later, I hear the beep that indicates that someone’s left a message, and I’m thinking, ‘who in fuck’s left me a three minute message??’ So I got out of bed again in order to check who it was, and it turned out to be D_____, a lass that was the receptionist at my last job who I was half-heartedly attempting to chat up. She was going on at length about how she’s just moved her computer into her new place with her current boyfriend, and they got into it this morning, as he had checked her AOL Inbox, and discovered, to his chagrin, several names of males that were not his own. Yeah, he’s one of those lovely, aggressively insecure types of blokes — he’s a cop, which pretty much says it all right there. D_____ had left a message wanting to know how exactly she could make sure she got rid of, or at least hide, any and all Emails from her other guy friends that she’d received, as well as pictures; as one time, I had gotten round to her old place and taken photos of her feet — yes, I’m a foot fetishist, we’ve covered this — and Emailed them back to her. He had asked who took them, and D_____ panicked and said some coworker had taken them, and when I rung her back at work, she said that he was probably going through her AOL account as we spoke. In short, the Gestapo was paying her a visit, and she wanted to know how best to effectively hide the Jews in her cupboards. I honestly don’t know how that analogy came about, but it’s making me giggle.
Basically, I’m sat here shaking my head. Why is it that people get into relationships, and knowingly stay in them, with fuckwits? I’m telling her, ‘well, D_____, if he won’t let you send and receive Emails from any one of your male friends, or he won’t let you give out your cellphone number to any one of your male friends, or if he won’t let you hang out with your male friends — in many cases, blokes you’ve known before you even met your prick of a boyfriend — then maaaybe that’s not the sort of relationship you want to be in?’ She’s saying that the arguments with him are stressing her out, which was audibly apparent in speaking with her the last couple of times after I was fired. I suggested that I take her out to dinner for a stress-free evening, but she claimed it would be difficult, if not impossible, to get away for any length of time, as she heads straight from work to pick her boyfriend’s son up from school, whereupon she heads back to her place and spends the rest of the eve with her prick of a boyfriend. D_____ apparently can’t leave her relationship, cos from what I see, she’s like thousands upon thousands of people who have a driving need to be with someone — anyone — even if that person has a couple of faults, such as being a suspicious little shit.
Now, I speak with some experience, as to some extent, that’s the way things were with my and my former housemate, the Slag. I was going to my job, being depressed there, coming home, having to drive her silly arse out to her stripper job or whatever cos she couldn’t drive, then hours later, having to get out of bed and leave a sound sleep behind in order to pick her up from said job, and then she would invariably chew me out because of something I did or didn’t do, either in real life, or solely in her deranged hallucinatory mind. I’m a person who believes that a home should not be a stressful place; it should be someplace where you can get away from virtually everything. After speaking to all manner of cunts from various states on the phone for seven hours, home should be a place where I really shouldn’t have to speak to anyone, if I choose not to. So one day, after of culmination of events that I’ll have to explain at a later date (that’s for the rest of the ‘I am not making this up‘ series, which I swear I’ll finish one day), I simply packed up my belongings and left. Good job on that as well, as it’s done loads for my sanity and well-being.
That caustic series of months where I lived with that so-called person pretty much solidified the fact that I can’t live with anyone. If they’re a friend before I lived with them, they turn into something entirely and negatively Other. Living by oneself, as I’ve said before, allows a person to actually develop their interests in their own time. It permits them to relax, and not be ‘on’ all the time. Most importantly, it allows them to see and do what they want, with whom they want, without having to field awkward and unnecessary questions from their roommate or partner. That’s one of the many reasons that I enjoy the company of my RealDoll Sidore. Rampant iDollatry aside, a Doll doesn’t care if you’ve had partners in the past, a Doll doesn’t care if you come home four hours later than you said you would, etc etc. It’s my goal to eliminate as much stress from my life as I possibly can, and being in the sort of relationship I’m currently in works toward that goal.
I don’t want to give the impression that I’m writing this in the spirit of ‘ha ha, I’m better off than you are’, cos I’m not. I just completely and utterly fail to understand why people will put up with that sort of behaviour. It could be argued that there are a few advantages being in one-half of a relationship — doubled income; constant, relentless, non-stop companionship — but if you have to compromise your personal freedoms, then none of it’s worth it. Society dictates that to be ‘successful’ and ‘happy’, you should be in a traditional relationship, but the way I see it, just because society says it’s a good idea, then it most likely isn’t
Random similar posts, for more timewasting:
Aren't they done with all of this 'Star wars' bollocks? on March 17th, 2005
National Winter Hibernation NOW! / Overdue culling on January 18th, 2009