Andy: The Fraud

Well, the wife came around to take the cats and some other personal effects.

I was rather terse, and rather rude.

Conversation:

Her: Lets get my TV into the car.

Me: I’m assuming you mean that I should help you then?

Her: Well, yeah…

Me: Don’t you have some other muscle to help out?

Her: My Dad is at [other engagement].

Me: Why should I help you out?

Her: …

Me: Are you going to help me move out?

Her: …

I ended up helping her lift the TV into her sister’s car. It wouldn’t fit the entire way in through the boot (trunk), so I ducked around to the rear door to pull it the rest of the way in. In the process, her finger got jammed between the TV and lip of the car boot (trunk).

She shrieked in pain. I waited for the usual barrage of chastisement that normally accompanies something going wrong, despite it being not my fault.

Silence. Nothing. She walked inside to run cold water over her finger.

The rest of the time she spent sniffling slightly, and strutting around the house saying nothing to me.

I didn’t try to make any amends. She moved the rest of the stuff whilst I hung around the front of the house, smoking.

She asked me to get some other things for the cats that were stored too highly in the garage for her to reach. I obliged.

I treated her with utmost disdain, giving her short, terse replies.

Throughout this whole ordeal, I’ve had to organise the sale of the house. Sure, I was living here, but surely she did have some responsibility to help out. She would say that she would come around and help tidy up before the open inspections, but she would somehow be busy during that time.

I had to do all the footwork in organising an agent. I had to chase up all the loose ends.

She never once made any kind of sacrifice to help out, instead choosing to spend time with her boyfriend. She also expected me to give her some money because she had other expenses to cover. She bled my wage dry, because I was too pliable when it came to her.

She never fully respected me. Ever.

Despite my wanting to work on the marriage and sort things out, she made it clear that the new boyfriend was far too important to her to warrant any time.

Tonight, my mood had swung. I didn’t feel obliged to her in any way. The way that she has treated me was downright disrespectful. She never took responsibility for anything in the relationship, instead instructing me to “deal with it” or “get over it” because it was the “way she was”.

I claimed before on this blog that I feel totally numb when it comes to her. Well, I certainly don’t feel any affection towards her, yet I still don’t hate her.

So, why do I feel like an arsehole?