most mornings i try to find something beautiful to look at; breath in; focus on … as well as something that makes me smile. i try and ignore the shit, if i can, just for an hour or two anyways. which is why i usually end up on my blog; after i’ve enjoyed the sunshine and a banging cup of freshly brewed coffee!
the partner … oh hell … well he’s a different kettle of fishys …
i’m trying to ‘get him’ more … but men are not really my most knowledgeable point … and from his point of view, i’m a man-hater … hmmm some truth in that, although it is a little harsh i think. we’ve talked at length … well, i’ve talked at length in the hopes that he’s listening … over the years, about how i got that way. aside from the obvious sexual assault blah de blah, he seems to think i just woke up hating men. i’ve said to him, that there are days where i wonder if the world would not indeed be a very different place without men in it; especially for those of us who have been on the end of their rage, greed, control … filth. but then the conversation veers back to those men in my life – few and far between – who have meant the world to me; who loved me. and they are my ‘measuring stick’ for the men i come across. i don’t know if thats fair or not; but it is what it is.
so, the partner has taken to waking up and moaning his ass off; sometimes quietly, sometimes loudly. but it always starts the same “fuck i hate my life” is the new go too line for him. i spent a couple of weeks trying to buffer his sentiment with “why” or “are you ok dear” … and then resorted to “what the fuck” or “fuck up for fucks sake; your life is sweet”. this morning though … i just walked away. i don’t want to hear it. the latter retort is quite mood dampening lol.
but i’m left wondering, if i’m missing something. i know men are wired differently than women, well he’s wired differently than me; i know his up bringing has been different than mine. and in a nutshell, i consider him to be a spoilt shit; his mummy has wiped his ass and his nose for far to fucking long and bailed him out of everything and anything; so there have been no ‘hard times’, no lessons learnt … no repercussions or consequences for actions.
i shit you not, i’ve never met another set of siblings who have been bailed as much as this lot. just as a taster, heres a small list of the things they ‘get’ from their parents:
- cars – paid for / rego / warranted / tickets and fines paid for / fixed
- damages to houses – paid for
- world trips
- a place to stay
- food to eat
- the use of parents car, with gas (after writing off their own)
- bills paid
- resources bought
these are grown ass kids … all in their 30s.
so when the partner gets up in the morning and says “i hate my life”, in essence, he means:
- i hate that i’m a big boy now and i have to pay my own bills, even the ones i make myself (shock horror) …
because, aside from that grown up item, his life seems pretty sweet to me. he gets paid compensation every week (yes, understandably, not an ideal situation, especially for a man who likes to work, but it is an income none the less – and a shitload more than what some people get – what i get!); he lives at the beach; he is ‘well’ (not minimising the pain he’s in most days; but this time last year we were waiting for the results of his biopsy to see whether he had cancer or not!); aside from registering and warranting the car, he doesn’t have to DO anything else … he doesn’t clean, he moans if he has to cook, he rarely does the lawns or the yard … i’ve done most of those things because a. i used to feel a sense of obligation slash ‘fairness’ quota – he pays the rent, i should do the rest, and b. he’s been in pain. thats shifted slightly when i watched him cleaning out his man cave and moving furniture for a mate … turns out he can ‘push through the pain’ when it involves kudos from your peers; not so much when it only involves enjoying the pristine and hygienic whiteness of a freshly cleaned toilet bowel!
anyway … my grizzle is … if you haven’t already worked it out …
how does a fully grown man have sweet fuck all to complain about when theres nothing to fucking complain about? could it be that his go-too is complaining, like his mother does? or could it be that he’s used to having shit done for him all the time and is feeling a little ‘over loaded’? or am i missing something??
because from where my broke ass is sitting he looks like he’s gotten a pretty sweet deal!
alright, rant over for now … coffee time 🙂