November 13, 2003

I feel like I’m living in a Hitchcock film…it appears nobody believes me. I’m not crazy most of the time. Just a lot pissed off. He lied to me about his adulterous relationship and I punched him in the mouth. I confess; I did it! No point in lying. I hit him a glancing blow in the mouth. Didn’t draw a drop of blood, didn’t break the skin and no telltale bruise was left on those lying lips. And he had the gall to have me arrested for assault after he knocked me down, tossed me around and backed me into the refrigerator. Taking all this into consideration, I just didn’t want to stay in the presence of the man who didn’t love me. The only thing I wanted to do was to leave my own house and get the hell away from the source of my pain, both emotional and physical.

He said I wasn’t leaving the house. Fooled him! With my back against the refrigerator and the magnets digging into my back, I did the only thing I could think of to defend myself. While he held me by the wrists screaming into my face, my knee hit home…right into his crotch. There he was wallowing around on the floor, I stepped over him, grabbed my duffel bag, car keys and a frying pan. He looked like he might be getting up, so I needed something to protect myself. As I stepped over him the second time holding the skillet high, I told him to lay right there or I’d be inclined to do him harm with my good Teflon skillet. So he didn’t move.

I was barefoot and flew through the backyard to the car and locked myself in. By the time I had the car started and slipped on my shoes, I noticed he was standing beside the driver’s side window. I threw him a look of contempt, put the car in reverse and drove around him. There he stood with arms folded over his chest becoming smaller and smaller in my rearview mirror. Distance and time, the two things I needed most.

After four days I returned home. Arrested on assault charges, marched through my front yard in handcuffs and carried off to city lock-up, I figured I’d never have to see his ugly mug again. Not so! Dragged into court time after time with my useless, two-bit, redneck attorney, my darling let me know exactly how much he hated me. The one punch to the face became being kicked out of bed, destroying his property, holding him at gunpoint, threatening to kill him. beating him in the chest and finally, frightening him so much so, he was fearful I’d do him harm as well as kill myself. Now that’s a lot of “doing” for someone like me and a darn good piece of fiction. In legal document after legal document, my darling claims I am crazy, vicious, violent and unpredictable. Go on with your bad self!

I just wanted to make a point. I wasn’t buying his bag of lies about his paramour and for all intents and purposes, the punch in the mouth demonstrated just how insulted and annoyed I was with his stupid antics.

So now after all the accusations, lies and legal fees, and major inconveniences, my darling’s attorney says his client, my darling, is offering reconciliation to his wife…that’s me of course. Ain’t that just rich?

Well, sweet cheeks, keep on offering and see what you get!