Yes, another post about Rat Bastard. I really do have other things I could post about, but he gave me such good material that it would be selfish of me not to share J
Mr. Rat Bastard told me he was thinking of moving out on a Thursday. He was gone on Saturday. On Friday while he packed I got drunk, cried, pathetically begged him to stay, promised to be more fabulous, basically all the pathetic loser crap I had promised myself NOT to do.
We get through the evening and go to bed and have “goodbye sex”. I break down and start sobbing, he (of course) manages to finish before promptly falling asleep.
Next morning I am numb. I can’t believe he’s still doing this…even after I’d promised to loofah my heels for him. So there we are, both sad, he sitting in his chair, me on the floor between his legs with my head on his leg. I, of course, am crying and I say, through a bubble of snot, “This is like a death”. He gets very quiet and replies “Yeah….it’s like...I’m going off to war….” (WTF?!?!) My snot bubble pops as I snap my surprised head up to look at him. Through my teary, confused eyes, I see him gazing out into the distance of the living room, no doubt hearing the sounds of bayonets firing and patriotic music in his twisted mind.
I was appalled. He really thought he doing something brave and heroic???? The sad answer to that is…yes, yes, he did. He also painted miniatures and played too many video games. Lesson learned.
