>People that have been following this blog for a long time and those sad enough to have read the archives from the beginning will know how this blog started, and possibly, the very first post which was pretty boring, but what got the Twat to dare me to start a blog called “My Boyfriend is a Twat.” The rest, as they say, is history.
It all began with shopping lists.
Yes, chickadees, shopping lists.
You see, 7 years ago we had a car given to us by a very dear friend of mine. I can’t drive. The Twat can, and so we used it mainly to get Todd to parties, drive Todd to his footie matches simply for the sheer amusement of watching his attempts at playing – and the shopping.
Seeing as I had a freezer that worked back then, we would try and get a week’s shopping done in one go. This meant writing a shopping list. A long one. And each week I would foresee the meals ahead of us and write down what, exactly was needed, along with everything else. This shopping list was a priceless list worth euros and euros after all the slaving I had done to foresee what was needed in the house for the coming week.
It was a treasure.
A masterpiece of work that I would put into the hands of my partner while I was tying up my boots – who would consequently leave it on the kitchen table. Each and every time.
When I finally learnt in my slow way of learning that the Twat was incapable of doing anything responsible, let alone be in charge of a shopping list, I started to shout at him more often than not – “You TWAT!”. Then he dared me and then there’s history.
Things slowly got worse, the car broke down and died a silent yet costly death, our means of transport returned to legs, bicycles and public transport and I gave up with writing out shopping lists as the Twat refused to let me go shopping with him. This meant that if there were more than 3 items to buy, he needed a note, not that he ever bought all 3 or 4 items on the ‘note’, but it was needed. Now he can go out and entirely forget that he was supposed to bring home a loaf of bread. Or some eggs. In fact, having asked him since last Saturday to buy both bread and eggs the only thing that he has come home with is horseradish sauce. WTF?
Which brings me to last Friday. I was watching something on YouTube when I suddenly heard someone shouting. Pause, take off headphones and I could hear the Twat yelling at me from downstairs as to what I’d like for supper. I replied, making the meal as simple as possible – and a loaf of bread. I also asked the Twat to post the stack of letters on the kitchen table.
“Lettuce? But I bought one 2 days ago.”
“No, you twat, LETTERS, that are ON THE KITCHEN TABLE.”
“But I bought a lettuce 2 days ago – you don’t need another one.”
Ah. Smartypants is playing on his hearing which is rapidly getting worse. Probably because I shout at him so much. With reason.
“I know about the lettUCE, you twat, but could you post the letTERS that are on the kitchen table please? Thank you.”
“Yes Hun.” [He is such a sore loser.]
While he was out I went downstairs to get something.
And there, on the table, were my letters. Not the lettuce, but my letters that I needed sending out that very day.
When he came back I turned the Twat around, thrust the letters into his hand and told him to post them in the post box that he had just passed twice on his way to and fro Delhaize. And when he left, I checked what he had bought. Stuff, but not a loaf of bread in sight.
Since having asked him on Saturday for bread and eggs, he still failed to deliver. That means that after having been asked for 4 days to buy 2 items – he has STILL failed.
I’m a fool to trust him with my bankcard but he is the one with the spare time to get the shopping in.
The Twat of the Highest Order may have to give in and let me go shopping with him in future.
I. Have. Had. Enough.
