andcuriouser
Active Member
I'm going to refer to these people by name. Matt, obviously, my husband. And Eliza. His lovely (sarcasm) ex-wife.
This afternoon I had to run some errands, so I asked Matt to just drop me off on Hespeler Road and pick me up in an hour and a half, to which he agreed. Matt didn't have his cell phone on him, because I'd caught him outside coming back from a bikeride, and we just left. So we agreed that I would be at BMO in an hour and a half and then he would pick me up there.
So I do my errands, and an hour and a half later, I wait at BMO. It's also fucking cold out. After fifteen minutes, I try his cell, but it's busy. So I try it again, and it gets his voicemail. I go inside BMO and this really nice teller let me hang out in the chairs and she even dug out some real magazines from her bag so that I didn't have to amuse myself by reading investment pamphlets. AN HOUR LATER, Matt finally pulls up, and who is in the front seat? His ex-fucking-wife.
Apparently, Eliza came to a four-way stop earlier, is unable to drive, and tried to make a left turn when it was the car going straight who had the right of way. There was a collision, and the roads are slippery from the new snow, and her car spun and to make a long story short: she totaled her car. She herself is fine, but her car is done.
So she called my husband, boohooing about her car and asking to come get picked up. She has a boyfriend, who's car is apparently in the garage and so he couldn't pick her up (I don't actually buy that, but okay). Matt the Hero went and picked her up, and then took her out to lunch at Country Boy (which is in Kitchener, a good twenty minutes from where I was at the time) while I was waiting for him to pick me up.
He explains this to me in the car en route to our house, so it's not like I could complain while Eliza was right there. This chick has totalled THREE CARS IN FIVE YEARS. That's not even counting this one. Someone should honestly take her license away or something. That's just inexcusable.
To make matters worse, we get home and Eliza is still pretending to be all upset (I say pretending, because you'd think a normal person, which Eliza is not, would be like, "well thank you for picking me up and for lunch, but you should take me home now", but no). So Matt invites her inside to calm down with tea without even consulting me or thinking, "Hey, this is actually a recipe for conflict, considering this is my ex-wife and also the man I left her for!"
I end up sitting in the living room with them for about ten minutes, and Matthew is getting annoyed with me for being annoyed with him, so when I get up to go to the bathroom, he excuses himself and follows me in. And then pins me to the wall and does the whole serious-talk-"look at me when I'm talking to you"-thing. Which basically came down to: I'm being an unsympathetic bitch about this whole thing, and I should feel bad for her because she just totaled her car, and I need to stop being such a cock and think about other people for a change, and if I don't like it, I should just go hang out in the bedroom by myself.
So guess what? I'm in the bedroom by myself. How nice.
This afternoon I had to run some errands, so I asked Matt to just drop me off on Hespeler Road and pick me up in an hour and a half, to which he agreed. Matt didn't have his cell phone on him, because I'd caught him outside coming back from a bikeride, and we just left. So we agreed that I would be at BMO in an hour and a half and then he would pick me up there.
So I do my errands, and an hour and a half later, I wait at BMO. It's also fucking cold out. After fifteen minutes, I try his cell, but it's busy. So I try it again, and it gets his voicemail. I go inside BMO and this really nice teller let me hang out in the chairs and she even dug out some real magazines from her bag so that I didn't have to amuse myself by reading investment pamphlets. AN HOUR LATER, Matt finally pulls up, and who is in the front seat? His ex-fucking-wife.
Apparently, Eliza came to a four-way stop earlier, is unable to drive, and tried to make a left turn when it was the car going straight who had the right of way. There was a collision, and the roads are slippery from the new snow, and her car spun and to make a long story short: she totaled her car. She herself is fine, but her car is done.
So she called my husband, boohooing about her car and asking to come get picked up. She has a boyfriend, who's car is apparently in the garage and so he couldn't pick her up (I don't actually buy that, but okay). Matt the Hero went and picked her up, and then took her out to lunch at Country Boy (which is in Kitchener, a good twenty minutes from where I was at the time) while I was waiting for him to pick me up.
He explains this to me in the car en route to our house, so it's not like I could complain while Eliza was right there. This chick has totalled THREE CARS IN FIVE YEARS. That's not even counting this one. Someone should honestly take her license away or something. That's just inexcusable.
To make matters worse, we get home and Eliza is still pretending to be all upset (I say pretending, because you'd think a normal person, which Eliza is not, would be like, "well thank you for picking me up and for lunch, but you should take me home now", but no). So Matt invites her inside to calm down with tea without even consulting me or thinking, "Hey, this is actually a recipe for conflict, considering this is my ex-wife and also the man I left her for!"
I end up sitting in the living room with them for about ten minutes, and Matthew is getting annoyed with me for being annoyed with him, so when I get up to go to the bathroom, he excuses himself and follows me in. And then pins me to the wall and does the whole serious-talk-"look at me when I'm talking to you"-thing. Which basically came down to: I'm being an unsympathetic bitch about this whole thing, and I should feel bad for her because she just totaled her car, and I need to stop being such a cock and think about other people for a change, and if I don't like it, I should just go hang out in the bedroom by myself.
So guess what? I'm in the bedroom by myself. How nice.