The End

During this conversation, in a wave of over earnestness I said that I didn't care about the Pandora bracelet and that I would rather have him express himself towards me. Showing me that he appreciated (maybe even loved) me would have meant more than any gorgeous precious metal wrist object that men usually buy women to show how much they mean (why the fuck did I say that!). He decided to bury his head in the sand and we resolved nothing after that conversation. I gave him his ultimatum and he decided to take the lazy/cowardly option of concluding nothing so as to stay in a broken relationship because it was easier than moving all his stuff out and going back to his parents.... hmm. After that night, the energy between us improved for about 2 seconds and then we were back to hating/resenting/being obsessed (just me) with each other again.

I needed to feel free, gorgeous like a woman, I needed to feel loved, worshiped, caressed, cared for and at the very least appreciated again. So I opted for the passions of a married man one Saturday night out with friends. Nothing happened. Apart from deep eye contact, close and personal conversation, intense snogging and gropping. It was like being 16 again... it was wonderful. I had absolutely no guilt. I loved it. I never saw him again. It was what it was and it was fucking yummy. Just what I needed.

Then I got invited to Amsterdam for a few days and when I returned He was ill. As sick as a dog. The stress from his project at work had finally taken it's toll on his body and he was shitting through the eye of a needle. What a great opportunity for Mother Garozzo to come out and play. I didn't need a second invitation to act out this past life wierdness. You know that sometimes when we made love I would pretend he was my son. A very sick little fetish but one that made me come every time. He managed to get a little better so that we could go to Silverstone on our motorbikes but fell ill again at the Hilton and so I called the Ambulance. Poor thing. I wanted to wrap Him up in cotton wool and chain him to my bed for decades, feeding him bland food, paracetomol and rehydration fluid. I had my role while he was sick and I loved it. He showed me appreciation. The smell of his morning breath was so sweet to me, I would have bottled it and used it a drawer fragrance.

Scitsophrenically, by the end of his week off, I was quite eager for him to get back to work. I needed my head space (often physical space is emotional space too) and I'd started feeling pissed off at him again as he played more and more World of Warcraft which switches him off from emotions such as compassion and gratitude. You get grunts every nownagain, but that's about it. By this time I was furious. "How could you?!" I thought. After all the TLC I've given you!!! At least I deserve a cuddle, a kiss, maybe even some sex? But no... his libido dissapeared. I had to start masturbating EVERY DAY. It did help a bit, but by the end of every night, anticipating the back turn and the first snore, I just started to close myself down. It was easier to be angry and resentlful of him for self protection purposes.

After the summer solstice something shifted. I felt the energy change. There was a certainty that the end was coming soon. I didn't know how but I knew I had to get him out of my house otherwise I would end up in a mental home after stabbing him and myself with a fork. I think it came as an unexpected shock to him and I don't think that he quite believed that it wasn't the alchol talking. On the eve of Saturday 25th June I asked him to make a phone call to his parents and tell them to make his bed up. On the hungover morning of the 26th, I hadn't changed my mind. I went to bed the night before shouting at myself "You can do this! You have to do this!" I prayed to God and Archangel Michel to give me the strength and courage to follow through and a coldness came over me. Without it I would have woosed out for sure. On the Sunday morning I left for a day out. An impromptu invitation to a Mind Body Spirit Festival saved the day. By the time I returned he had gone.