Another day in paradise

 Here I am, the kids are going out to a birthday party with my spouse. "The Church of David" is here, apparently I am a controlling evil psycho for believing climate change is real, and this is what she wants to say, to our two daughters, 6 and 8 years old. Apparently I am gaslighting her for defending my beliefs, and she alternates from saying that me being silent is stonewalling and emotional abuse, and me saying anything is "The Church of David" another form of emotional control. I am a little at a loss of what to do, so I decide to start a blog, as some way of trying to stay sane through all of this.

Now apparently I want to tell my children not to get on flights and that Macron is great. This because she mentioned that France was banning short-haul flights, and I pointed out, naively, that flying is genuinely a problem that needs to be solved. "He can stone wall and sulk, because wah, wah, wah, I don't agree to his church." This was after I said the best thing to do was just make trains really cheap. That, apparently, makes me a Saudi uncle. This is one weird fight, part generational (you lot are mad autocrats for believing in climate change, you want to tell other people how to live) and part personal frustration (we can't afford the car she needs to get the kids around town to their homeschooling sessions, because it has been hard for me to find work). Mostly it's just exhausting.

You guessed it, this is (yet another) anonymous blog written for catharsis. I don't expect a readership, I just expect to be able to put my feeling up somewhere. I need to find my voice, and I can't do that unless I talk about my feelings and experiences. I thought I should start a political blog, but it all just sounded hollow and abstract, so here it is, a (most likely) boring blog about my day to day trials and tribulations. 

She is now angry that she cannot find an Uber. I suggest the local taxi company app, fab, now I am an autocrat for telling her how to get a taxi. Apparently I am cut from the same cloth as Macron. I even went as far as asking "have you checked the local app" in my typical British indirection, always afraid of offending someone (another thing she does not like) but that apparently, is coming on too strong. 

Now there is no bus, no car, she has left it to 11.10 to look for a Taxi to get to the party (which started at 11), because she was a bit distracted by Macron and calling me a fat uncle. That hurts a little because I am more than a decade older than her, but whatever. I have 13% visceral fat, and weight 77kg for my 5ft11, apparently I will die young, and alone. This is, I am reliably informed with an almost alarming regularity, my own fault since I cannot manage any healthy or functional relationships, which sounds truly awful. I never realised that buying one of those electronic scales that calculates your BMI was handing her a stick to beat me with, I guess there is a deep streak of masochism in me. Who thought getting healthy could be so much fun? 

She has left the house now, with a parting shot about being a jailer for keeping the keys hidden (they were right in front of her on the hallway table, somehow she does not miss a beat) and she's out to get the Taxi that finally appeared. Via the local Taxi app. Where she needs cash to ride. The cash I came downstairs to give her. This is a normal day in our house. Pretty much every time we leave the house, she leaves it to the last minute. I have saboutaged for mislaying the keys, or not getting the water bottle sorted quick enough, or whatever it is. I am, admittedly, quite a distracted husband, especially on days like today where she has spent the entire night telling me what a cheater I am. 

I have a wandering eye, I am not proud of it. But I mean just that, I look when I should not, and now whenever an attractive women is around I panic and try to look away, and then I am accused of cheating for needing to look away. I am clearly not a good husband. Not much of a man either. Jake Woodard is an expert on masculinity, and apparently I am an alcoholic (I barely drink) porn addicted (last time I looked at porn was when she was six months ago when she was in India for six months having sex with a close friend of the family, I took her hints pretty badly) and I am apparently into disrupting my hormonal system (though I was a classist before for suggesting we don't have lots of plastic in the house). I am not a good husband, that much is clear, it's not the first marriage I have made a mess of. But I really don't know how to navigate these shit-storms. 

Even if I try to shut up and listen, she will go after a topic, like naming the guy who sexually abused me as a child repeatedly, then saying I am not against child abuse because I took too long to take him to court. Apparently this helps me "get rid of my ego" which makes it sound like this is all for my own good, naturally. 

I did cheat on her early on, sleeping with someone once, kissing someone else, and flirting far too often. My bad, I have owned it. She was young when we met, 21 and a virgin. I should not have gone there, but her force of personality really bowled me over. I fell in love despite being terrified of another commitment. I guess I got what was coming to me, especially as I was just navigating a messy divorce when I met her. Full marks for making wise decisions. So, with all this in mind,  I genuinely try to avoid anything that is going to set her off

Life throws some curveballs, like when another parent in our home education group turns up, who looks like a mildly aging sports illustrated model. Tall, skinny, slightly disproportionately large looking breasts. I panic, look away, avoid her for most of the treasure hunt we are on, but lo and behold I "was hitting on her." "Do you want to sleep with her? Do you want to jiggle her big breasts?" Errr no. 

Are you still here? Incredible, well done, I applaud your stamina. I checked out years ago.