My girlfriend doesn’t seem to understand the importance of pub time. The pub is a man sanctuary, a place where we get together and bond, talking about work, life and other things I can’t mention here in case she figures out that it is me writing this. All I want to let out today is: Why after 2 years of going to the pub is the fucking woman still not conditioned? And if not know, will she ever be? I mean Pavlov conditioned his dog, how hard can it be to condition an adult woman?
I’ll tell you now, it’s fucking hard – so hard, I think it is impossible. I thought in the beginning she understood the importance of this man-sanctuary, she never complained or made an issue about it – but then she began. Slowly at first, dropping little hints, the hints started to get bigger and then last night she fucking blew up like a kettle. Last night I said I was going to be home at 9. I wasn’t. I got home at 12. So what happened when I came home a little tipsy after 5 pints and 2 tequila shots, well, she was sat there very calm in our kitchen with the Victorian flower wall paper she so much loves. This is the scariest point. The truth is I should have known, but as a hypocrite – I thought she may be different tonight. I was wrong. Very wrong. Like a lioness at night stalking her prey so her conversation began to stalk me.
She starts off simply, regular questions like ‘where have you been?’, and ‘Who were you with?’ – but it seems that none of my answers are good enough, her left nostril flairs a bit, her hair starts to blow, but there is no draft, it’s almost as if my answers are summoning the devil to earth – go away beast, there is no place on Earth for you devil, go, go – but the devil doesn’t listen to no one – and then as always she gets me in a catch 22... at this point you could be saying one of two things 1.) Be a man, tell her how it is – if this is your answer you have obviously never been in a relationship. 2.) Lie, just fucking lie through your teeth – I have, will and must consider this option... the catch 22 goes like this, ‘If I want to spend time with her then why do I go out, If I go out and want to spend time with her why don’t I invite her along, If I invite her along - I don’t want to go out, If I don’t go out then she doesn’t want to spend time with me’ – you see, I am fucked anyway I look at it – but this catch 22 flairs up, I mean properly - to the point where she calls me a cunt and wraps a wooden spoon around my face, and that’s when I snap and insult her mother and brother.
And then my face breaks the wooden spoon and she tries to stab me with the splinters. Through it all, all I could think was my girlfriend is a fucking psycho.