He's an arse!
It was Coops' birthday yesterday so we went round for a few drinks. We weren't going to stay for long because Yorkie has work today, and I'm not drinking at the moment due to the after effects of drink earlier in the week.
Yorkie desided that he was going to down as many cans of beer as he could in the shortest amount of time! Like, he was getting through 2 and a half for any one elses 1 can, so in no time at all he was shit faced. And I mean SHIT FACED! Which is funny to start with, but wears thin after a while, particularly if he's in twat-mode, which he was.
The get-together at Coops and Lellys wasn't ideal for me. I know that's hardly the point, it's Coops birthday and his mates, but when I'm in the head state I'm in at this time of year going out at all is hard, and being surrounded by people I don't know is really really difficult! I made a real effort though, sticking to my diet coke and chatting away to any one who started a conversation I had a view or comment or joke on, etc, as you do. Meantime Yorkie is getting more and more steamed.
It didn't help that there was one guy there (who I've meet before and should have remembered and let the alarm bells ring) who Yorkie knows from years back, and they started to reminice about Yorkie's former best mate - who died of a herroin over dose some years before I met Yorkie. This is always a bad sign! He always gets shit faced and becomes a twat when this happens. I try to be understanding - I am understanding - it was a terrible thing that happened and it's wounded Yorkie deeply. I just dread it coming up in drunken conversation because I know what happens to Yorkie afterwards. Nights like this one!
By about 11pm the drugs came out. Now, I have no problem with weed, it's just part of our social group. But I don't like being around people when they're taking anything a little more dangerous. I really don't like being offered things to snort and watching people gerning all night because they've sucked shit up their noses! I would like to point out that neither myself or Yorkie took part in that side of the party! But by now I'm starting to think that what I really want to do is go home. BUT... it was still kind of early, and Yorkie was having a good time catching up with old mates etc, so I thought I'd leave off mentioning that I wanted to go home. After all, since he's at work today, surely he's be ok going home at about midnight?
Yeah, fucking right!
Just after midnight I asked if we could go soon. He pulled a puppy dog face and said could we stay a little longer. Sure, says I, but rememebr you have to be up for work in the morning. I thought, maybe half an hour? Wait until he's finished the new can of beer he's just aquired? Only after every time I asked could we please go soon, he said "ok" and then demands another two cans of fucking beer!
It was gone 2am before we left. Yorkie was hammered so badly he could hardly walk. I felt another panic attack coming on and I was sweating, my head spinning - and without having taken or drunk ANYTHING! I don't think I could have felt like that off passive weed smoke, not that sick and freaked out.
When we got home I came up stairs to use the loo and check my emails, and there was no sign of Yorkie following me up, so I went back down to him. He was passed out on the kitchen floor in the dark. I tried to wake him, tried to move him and got told to fuck off. So I left him there all night.
Once upton a time I would have carried him up the stairs to bed, then I started to just cover him up to keep him warm (as he got fatter and I got less symperthetic). This time I just left him on the cold floor and went to bed. Fuck him! Also, once upon a time, I would have called work for him and made his excuses for him not coming into work. Fuck that idea too! Make the bastard suffer!
7am the alarm went off and went down stairs to get him up. He had managed to shift himself from the kitchen floor onto the settee at some point in the night, but not before irriagting the kitchen floor!!!!!!!!!!!!
He stinks! He stinks of booze and sweat and piss! And he wondered why I wouldn't give him a hug or a kiss! Hugs and kisses??? He's lucky I didn't throw the bastard out! Finding out some one has pissed on my kitchen floor is not the ideal way to start a fucking day! I would have just been fucked off by his getting rat arsed and being a fuck wit, not caring how unhappy I was last night, and I would have got over that by this morning, had he not done that!
The dirty fucking bastard!
I sent him up to the bathroom for a wash, refused to make his breakfast or lunch, and bundled him into the car for work. I all but kicked him out of the car when we got to his work. He's been trying to kiss me and hug me all morning and I'm just not having any of it.
"What did I do?" he asks. "What ever it is, I'm sorry"
But there was no way I was going to go into it before he went to work. I needed to stay angre with him so he's go. If I told him how I felt this morning I'd have cried, then we would have hugged me, and stayed home "to make it up to me and pamper me". No way, not today! Because I know what will happen. He'll spend an hour begging and pleeding for forgiveness, make me a brew, try to have sex with me (no chance, not with a stinky pissy man!) and then sleep for the rest of the day. And while I want him to beg for forgiveness, I'm not about to let him have the day off work to do it! Like I said, make the bastard suffer!
But what can I say? How can I say "I had a really horrible time because people I don't know were taking drugs, you were talking about your dead mate, and I wanted to go home" without sounding petty? How about "I felt like shit and you didn't care" That's not any better. I can't keep reminding him that I'm worried about him loosing his job due to turning up pissed / not turning up because he's pissed, because he knows that already, and it clearly doesn't bother him. He'll only blame me for being a misery, or blame my hormones, or blame my depression, which I wont pretend haven't made an impact, but when I'm in a mood for these reasons I acknowlege it, and work to prevent my mood from affecting what's around me. I think I am justified in my rage this morning!
And as for the piss! That's just fucking topped it off! Like I said, I would have calmed down about the rest by now if it hadn't been for that. How can a grown man let himself get so shit faced that he can't get off the floor and go to the toilet!
Pathetic!
It was Coops' birthday yesterday so we went round for a few drinks. We weren't going to stay for long because Yorkie has work today, and I'm not drinking at the moment due to the after effects of drink earlier in the week.
Yorkie desided that he was going to down as many cans of beer as he could in the shortest amount of time! Like, he was getting through 2 and a half for any one elses 1 can, so in no time at all he was shit faced. And I mean SHIT FACED! Which is funny to start with, but wears thin after a while, particularly if he's in twat-mode, which he was.
The get-together at Coops and Lellys wasn't ideal for me. I know that's hardly the point, it's Coops birthday and his mates, but when I'm in the head state I'm in at this time of year going out at all is hard, and being surrounded by people I don't know is really really difficult! I made a real effort though, sticking to my diet coke and chatting away to any one who started a conversation I had a view or comment or joke on, etc, as you do. Meantime Yorkie is getting more and more steamed.
It didn't help that there was one guy there (who I've meet before and should have remembered and let the alarm bells ring) who Yorkie knows from years back, and they started to reminice about Yorkie's former best mate - who died of a herroin over dose some years before I met Yorkie. This is always a bad sign! He always gets shit faced and becomes a twat when this happens. I try to be understanding - I am understanding - it was a terrible thing that happened and it's wounded Yorkie deeply. I just dread it coming up in drunken conversation because I know what happens to Yorkie afterwards. Nights like this one!
By about 11pm the drugs came out. Now, I have no problem with weed, it's just part of our social group. But I don't like being around people when they're taking anything a little more dangerous. I really don't like being offered things to snort and watching people gerning all night because they've sucked shit up their noses! I would like to point out that neither myself or Yorkie took part in that side of the party! But by now I'm starting to think that what I really want to do is go home. BUT... it was still kind of early, and Yorkie was having a good time catching up with old mates etc, so I thought I'd leave off mentioning that I wanted to go home. After all, since he's at work today, surely he's be ok going home at about midnight?
Yeah, fucking right!
Just after midnight I asked if we could go soon. He pulled a puppy dog face and said could we stay a little longer. Sure, says I, but rememebr you have to be up for work in the morning. I thought, maybe half an hour? Wait until he's finished the new can of beer he's just aquired? Only after every time I asked could we please go soon, he said "ok" and then demands another two cans of fucking beer!
It was gone 2am before we left. Yorkie was hammered so badly he could hardly walk. I felt another panic attack coming on and I was sweating, my head spinning - and without having taken or drunk ANYTHING! I don't think I could have felt like that off passive weed smoke, not that sick and freaked out.
When we got home I came up stairs to use the loo and check my emails, and there was no sign of Yorkie following me up, so I went back down to him. He was passed out on the kitchen floor in the dark. I tried to wake him, tried to move him and got told to fuck off. So I left him there all night.
Once upton a time I would have carried him up the stairs to bed, then I started to just cover him up to keep him warm (as he got fatter and I got less symperthetic). This time I just left him on the cold floor and went to bed. Fuck him! Also, once upon a time, I would have called work for him and made his excuses for him not coming into work. Fuck that idea too! Make the bastard suffer!
7am the alarm went off and went down stairs to get him up. He had managed to shift himself from the kitchen floor onto the settee at some point in the night, but not before irriagting the kitchen floor!!!!!!!!!!!!
He stinks! He stinks of booze and sweat and piss! And he wondered why I wouldn't give him a hug or a kiss! Hugs and kisses??? He's lucky I didn't throw the bastard out! Finding out some one has pissed on my kitchen floor is not the ideal way to start a fucking day! I would have just been fucked off by his getting rat arsed and being a fuck wit, not caring how unhappy I was last night, and I would have got over that by this morning, had he not done that!
The dirty fucking bastard!
I sent him up to the bathroom for a wash, refused to make his breakfast or lunch, and bundled him into the car for work. I all but kicked him out of the car when we got to his work. He's been trying to kiss me and hug me all morning and I'm just not having any of it.
"What did I do?" he asks. "What ever it is, I'm sorry"
But there was no way I was going to go into it before he went to work. I needed to stay angre with him so he's go. If I told him how I felt this morning I'd have cried, then we would have hugged me, and stayed home "to make it up to me and pamper me". No way, not today! Because I know what will happen. He'll spend an hour begging and pleeding for forgiveness, make me a brew, try to have sex with me (no chance, not with a stinky pissy man!) and then sleep for the rest of the day. And while I want him to beg for forgiveness, I'm not about to let him have the day off work to do it! Like I said, make the bastard suffer!
But what can I say? How can I say "I had a really horrible time because people I don't know were taking drugs, you were talking about your dead mate, and I wanted to go home" without sounding petty? How about "I felt like shit and you didn't care" That's not any better. I can't keep reminding him that I'm worried about him loosing his job due to turning up pissed / not turning up because he's pissed, because he knows that already, and it clearly doesn't bother him. He'll only blame me for being a misery, or blame my hormones, or blame my depression, which I wont pretend haven't made an impact, but when I'm in a mood for these reasons I acknowlege it, and work to prevent my mood from affecting what's around me. I think I am justified in my rage this morning!
And as for the piss! That's just fucking topped it off! Like I said, I would have calmed down about the rest by now if it hadn't been for that. How can a grown man let himself get so shit faced that he can't get off the floor and go to the toilet!
Pathetic!
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