Saturday, 18 April 2015


My darling and I broke up last night.

It came out of nowhere for me. His only explanation was that he wanted to chase 'other women.'

I think that was more insulting than being left for another specific woman. Just being kicked out for 'some other woman' whoever that may or may not turn out to be.

Soon after he'd told me and I'd turned my shocked self around to go to the bedroom and pack up, I walked back through into the lounge and discovered he'd taken down all the pictures that I'd painted. He'd replaced them with cheap ugly photos. They weren't even of planes - that I could understand - they were of landscapes. Blah.

I then had to listen to the tearful entreaties of his son from his first marriage, because my ex-darling had chosen to tell me he wanted me to leave on the alternate weekend that his son flies down from Wellington to spend with his dad.

Like I needed that on the same day I'd discovered that I was now forced to enter the crowded and expensive housing market of Christchurch. Just couldn't be bothered to break up with me pre-earthquake. Had to make it all inconvenient.

When I walked over the road to the park after packing, I found my ex-darling rolling around on the grass with another woman and exclaiming how much he enjoys kissing. Yuck. And then he kissed the skank some more. Double yuck.

In an act of pure retribution I marched back into the house, and returned with his son in tow. I then emphasised to the boy (yet again) that it wasn't my fault that his Dad and I were breaking up.

When I woke up I still had the bitter smile on my lips.

My darling hasn't even bothered to apologise so far because he thinks that the excuse 'it didn't happen' counts for something.

Like that's going to make it up to his non-existent son, or dry his non-existent son's tears.