On Sunday, the husband decided to drink. Why? Because he hasn’t “had a drink in a long time!” Oh yes. SO long. Two. Whole. Weeks. Yes, I can certainly see it’s been FOREVER. Ironically, while he is drinking he is ranting about how liquor stores shouldn’t be open on Sundays. I’m sure it’s the liquor stores fault for him drinking. Oh, an he is SO glad that the bill to allow grocery stores and gas stations to sell beer and alcohol (beyond the 3.0 stuff) failed.
I divide my time between the internet, TV and books and struggle not to engage him in his rantings. He pokes and prods at me, decideds that I’m not playing his twisted “Lets fight, I’ll call you names and then I will cry while I tell you I love you and you’re too good for me” game and goes back to watching TV.
He starts feeling “frisky” and attempt to set the mood by drunkenly feeling me up. He then becomes pissed when I remind him that I dont put out when he has been drinking. This has been a long standing policy of mine. Sorry, Buddy. The smell of stale beer eminating from your body is not attractive. Nor is the smell of beer and frozen burritos on your breath. The thought of pretending to be into it while you drunkenly pant and paw me until you finish and pass out makes me ill.
Needless to say, while I don’t state the above to him, when I do say “No, I don’t want to have sex with you when you are drunk, it pisses him off. And then he begs a bit. Whines. Gets pissed again and has a little fit about me not “putting out”. Yeah, that convinces me. He then goes to bed to make a show of “not talking” to me.
Oh please! no! Not the peace and quiet! Whatever shall I do?
When he gets up in the morning he pretends that nothing has happened and all is normal as usual.
I do have to say, I’m getting a little better at this disengaging thing. At least keeping my mouth shut.