The Dirty Dozen
Well, I wouldn’t describe her as a bad person. Not bad per se, but I suppose she just was unable to handle my popularity. After all, I cannot help the fact that people are drawn to me can I? Naturally I always reassured her. I suppose being so young she was always going to be insecure but there is only so much that one can do about that I suppose. Terrible thing jealousy. Makes people do things they really ought not to. She hasn’t really ever let go to be frank, no, I know, even after all this time.
Sometimes you just get it wrong don’t you? I mean, normally I am so good at reading people but I completely got it wrong with this one. Talk about doing a good job of hiding your true self. She was sweetness and light at first and seemed quite a relaxed person. I think that is why I was drawn to her after the possessiveness of number one but I realise now it was just for show. Such anger and all the time. My god, she could power a city with the furious rage she gave off. I thought at times she would explode. I had to make myself scarce many times to stay out of her line of fire. Still do in fact.
Grade A lunatic. The whole nut job routine. Talk about out of the frying pan into the fire. If I thought number two was bad with her foul temper, then number three was even worse. Seemed like a quiet person at first, the ideal antidote to Miss Furious but beneath that sweet smile and butter would not melt façade this was a conniving, scheming, manipulative harridan. I honestly expected she would break my ankles in order to keep me where she could keep an eye on me, you know, just like the film version of Misery. Thank the lord for a fast car and a fast lawyer, that restraining order is worth its weight in gold believe me.
Alcoholic. This girl could drink even me under the table and I can handle my drink. Tequila for breakfast, wine for lunch (times two) and vodka before dinner. Like a stick she was, barely ate, but she could put it away. Months after I had her removed from the house (long story short pills plus booze plus psycho do not go well together) I was still finding half-drunk bottles of Stolichnaya and Finlandia hidden around the house. I must admit, I still shudder if I get a whiff of Pernod.
Ice maiden. Now I am always one to respect a lady and her body. Yes means yes and no means no, I am totally with all of that, but this one, well, yes meant no and no meant never. Believe me I tried to prise her open, you know, overcome whatever it was that had her coiled tighter than a watch spring and colder than a glacier but even more well-known warmth and hospitable nature floundered when faced with the Queen of Winter. What appeared elegant and serene just became a frozen wasteland. I can usually make anybody melt but not this one and after all, a man has needs doesn’t he? It is not too much to expect some relief is it from time to time?
She wanted to be my mother, I kid you not. Seemed like such a caring person at first, warm, considerate and after the other five degenerates I thought to myself, okay, she isn’t your usual hard body but in all honestly, where has that got me so far. Not that she was ugly, far from it, just a little different from my usual tastes. So, I thought that she would make a welcome change but she took it too far. Making me packed lunches even when I told her I was having lunch with clients, putting out my clothes for me to wear in the morning even when I wanted to wear something else, answering for me, re-arranging appointments for me in case I over-tired myself, suggesting I take a mid-afternoon nap and so on. All done with that weird smile she gave me. Fruitcake.
You know me, I am a great listener, always have been. I am always ready to listen to people because I am interested in what they have to say, I put other people first and so I have plenty of patience but this one, good lord, she just would not shut up. From the moment she woke up her mouth started flapping. Even talked in her sleep, which was not really a surprise. Talked while she ate, talked when I was on the ‘phone, talked to me through the bathroom door when I wanted some privacy, talked during sex and I don’t mean dirty talk but discussing whether she ought to buy a new pair of shoes. The day she got a sore throat was a day to rejoice and kick her into touch so she couldn’t protest.
Katarina Chaos as I used to call her. This woman was a walking disaster area. Habitually late which always irritated me, clumsy (my dry cleaning bill soared), always forgetting things (went through four mobile phones in a month) and a magnet for misfortune. If there was a puddle she would always manage to step in it even when it was harder to do so than to avoid it. She would get trapped in the tube’s doors, lifts would always breakdown with her in them, her car would not start and she would ring (on the most recent mobile before she lost that) explaining her latest mishap. Endearing lady, no doubt about it, kind and amusing, but just so disorganised. Put the wrong bins out at collection time, turned up in formal wear on dress down days, it just became embarrassing and whilst I am not rigid about these things I do like to be organised. Amazingly she was a project manager, I know, I nearly choked when she told me that.
Psycho. Always wanted to know where I was. Kept ringing repeatedly and asking me to send her a photograph of where I was to make sure I was where I said I was. Most unnerving. Would turn up without warning and she had that uncanny ability to just sidle up unheard and be at your shoulder. Holy Toledo, it would make me jump. I swear she put a tracker on my car given the number of times she turned up at places even though there was no feasible way she ought to have known where I was. I used to be up and down through the night checking through my blinds and expect her to be stood outside staring through the window with that thousand-yard stare. Very worrying.
Control freak. All her DVDs were in alphabetical order. All the tins in her cupboards had the labels facing the same way. Had to take your shoes off when you entered her house but get this, she made you wear a brand new pair of slippers each time to walk around inside which she then burned afterwards. What a weirdo. Nothing out of place. Always wanted to make decisions for me. No fork ever ventured into the knife section in the drawer. I daresay she ironed the sheets in the bed after we made love and I caught her timing us when we did hit the sack. I should imagine she had a spreadsheet which she compiled on her computer of the orgasm versus number of humps ratio. Wanted me to sit in a particular place whenever I visited and would never let me in the study explaining that it was a “controlled environment” whatever that meant. Mind you when I tipped a rubbish bag through her letter box I think she got the message that things were not working out for us.
You are amazing. I adore you. I am so lucky that I have you and you listen to me, it is so wonderful to meet, finally, somebody like you. You have no idea what it means to me to be able to talk to you like this and to tell you everything about what has gone in the past. I really do appreciate it. You are so open-minded and tolerant and it puts me at ease, it really does. I know some people would not like to hear about their partner’s previous relationships but I have nothing to hide from you and I know you will not judge me for it, it can only make you and I stronger because I truly appreciate you.
Number eleven? What a ballbreaker she was. Never listened to me, always commenting about me, even when I tried to explain things to her. Jumped to conclusions, never let me finish what I wanted to say. Oh and so judgemental too which was really hurtful. Slated my other relationships. Yes, they were not perfect, that’s why they ended, but she went overboard in her critical assessment of them and it was obviously done to make me feel small. Still, you are not like that are you? Thank goodness.
And that’s how the dirty dozen unfolds (okay it’s way more but you get the picture).