Tuesday, 15 September 2015

I was a bully last night, an unashamed, deliberately cruel, bully. Of the two of us, The Boss is the sociable one. I do people if I have to, but generally avoid the middle aged pub get togethers for brithdays etc. and the clubbing days are long gone. The Bosses easy going nature means that he has a group of people he's hung onto and has great faith in as people. Some of his friends I like, some a really like, even to the point of being happy to see more of them, but there are also a couple I LOATHE. Last night a group of the old cronies met for The Bosses birthday. A little slow maybe because we all used to get together under the influence of speed and similar, but after a few drinks The Boss always enjoys himself and it was nice to see people making the effort to come out and buy him a pint. He's the kind of guy that inspires great loyalty. He can be odd, a little rain man at times but he's a good guy. We even got invited into the neighbours on the way home for a smoke and a drink which made The Boss even happier. I was tired and not really into it but as I say, if it made The Boss happy for his birthday, that's what counts. It descended into raucous swearing but I was very amused when the neighbour announced that she knew about EVERYTHING that went on in the terrace. Trust me Hun you REALLY don't have the faintest what we get up to

You REALLY never know what goes on behind closed doors

 but back to the bullying.

It's this kind behaviour that convinces me I'm a sadistic sub (or just a plain bitch) rather than a switch. Anyway, one of The Bosses oldest friends is an archetypal hippie, he's tedious but The Boss thinks the world of him, so I sort of ignore him but with him comes his Mrs and I loathe her. A few years ago The Boss thought it would be nice if I took her under my wing as 'less her the heffer, as I like to think of her had had a rough time. I met her twice and it became pretty clear pretty quickly she's a manipulator. Cultivating a persona of struggling, vulnerable victim of poor mental health. She is in fact some one with an obvious personality disorder and suddenly I was inundated with texts, each more emotionally charged and needy than the next. I watched at gigs as she controlled everyone, sitting looking miserable in a corner, tears and never ending discussions of how depressed she was, is, and ever shall be, ensuring her a better audience than the band. After a particularly irritating volley of texts one day, seeking yet more attention and validation, I told her to get fucked.

The line was drawn, I avoided her The Boss stayed friends with them and while drunk one night told the heffer what I really thought of her. The Boss invited them both last night, I said fine just as long as I didn't have to talk to her. I knew she wouldn't be able to resist playing her old games and even before we left the house the texts began.

I want to beat her to a fucking Pulp, hold still butch while I get my crop!

Kat, fuck it let's use your name! You only texted to ask what we were wearing to ensure we knew you were coming. It was your announcement of your imminent arrival, just to make sure The Boss would be looking out for you. Loved the walking stick by the way, nice touch! I watched The Boss fall for her "it's been a struggle but I made it" performance and I cut her dead!! My refusal to even make eye contact with her, let alone speak to her, made her and her husband visibly uncomfortable. I sat with someone I liked and ensured Kat was isolated, ignored and so deeply immersed in her victim status she had no option but to feign an anxiety attack and leave.

Bitch!! I hear you cry!! This poor woman!! How could you. I grew up in a household run to appease my mothers emotional needs, I learned early on to spot the difference between real tears and those that appear on cue. Mental health issues are not a weapon to be used against others and I will not play along. I knew exactly what I was doing driving her out and I don't care.

This is what you should wear to the pub bitch so I don't have to listen to you whine or look at your sad fucking face!

It's not just that I don't need to be liked any more, or seek other people's approval, it's just as much that I don't want to be liked. It just leads to assumptions and demands that irritate! I spent years of my life playing catch up to other people's expectations, itwore me out but now I feel so much freer.

I had a grandmother who was a great influence on me, she was honest and told me how powerful sex was, how wonderful and liberating. She was one of the last real bohemians and tried to teach me not to care so much about what other people thought and only now am I getting how right she was. She wasn't a nice woman, she wasn't a liked woman but she was much happier than most people. She's gone to Alzheimer's now, just a tiny bird in big cardigan and there is even an argument to be made that her disregard for others and obnoxiously free spirit was just as much a personality disorder as the calculatingly feeble Kat but I'm too hung over to pick the knots out of that bit of string.

I'm not a nice person, the teachers say "doesn't play well with others" but my grandma would be proud of me!!

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