The Death of a Modern Man

byVandemonium1

Hi folks. If you read this, don’t be surprised if you recognise some of Jezzaz’s story ‘Words’ in it. I’ve copied more than a few concepts from it. I would like to acknowledge that story as a brilliant piece of work from a very talented wordsmith. If you haven’t read it yet, do yourselves a favour. This story has its genesis in his line, “I wouldn’t want to derail your script,” as the male lead is talking to his wife. Um, I’ve taken a different approach.

For those that enjoy a chuckle, read on. It contains a wife who loves her husband but very little sex.

Any resemblance to realities living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Hi my names Evil and…well that’s not my real name obviously, it’s a nickname. My real name is Dave. Why Evil I hear you not asking. Well in my twenties, I was nicknamed Eagle. I’d love to say that was because of my piercing eyes, my high flying and resolution to mate for life but I’d be bullshitting you. If you insist on knowing all the details, my nose is kinda bent all right. A legacy of a violent youth. I could live with that name, so I was happy. After all my best friend’s nickname is ‘Scrote’. No, Eagle was fine. Then, when I was 25 my cute niece came up to me at a family party and in that cute little girl lisp asked why I was called Evil. One question; one bloody question and I get a lifetime of explaining to do.

I married Lisa 10 years ago after a relatively long courtship. I wanted to be sure and I wanted her to be sure. Us eagles really do mate for life and I would never willingly dissolve my marriage. I believe what my parent’s generation believed. You make an informed decision, then live with the consequences of that decision. I loved my wife and at the time this story started and ends even, I believe she loves me. Apart from this belief, I considered myself a modern man. Not for me the old style, man says, woman does scenario. In my world, men and women can be equal.

A fairy tale 2.4 kids and eventual grandkids wasn’t to be for us though. After three years of trying, without success, we decided to get me tested. Far out, how embarrassing was that. My little wrigglers did me proud though; I had a more than adequate sperm count to do the job. Then Lisa was tested. Malformed ovaries. We optimistically asked the Doc if that meant she would have trouble conceiving. He said, no, she would never conceive. I pretended that was okay as I could see Lisa was devastated. I told her that was fine by me; I could be happy just loving her the rest of my life. Lies are acceptable when you love someone and mate for life. Besides, modern couples are commonly childless.

I still loved her after her changed attitude cost her the job of customer service representative and she didn’t feel confident enough to look for another one. Or when the drop in her activity level caused her to put on a little weight. When she stopped dressing nicely or putting on much make-up, I still loved her. Eagles mate for life and don’t let temporary mood changes make them throw their mate from the nest. Modern men step up to the plate and try harder. This Evil eagle upped the compliments, bought his mate flowers and presents and took her on two vacations a year, even though he was trying to grow a fledgling electrical contracting business and could ill afford the time off.  

This eagle’s internal alarms should have been triggered when our circle of friends began wilting. They weren’t, as the decline was so slow and subtle. As the couples in our friendship circle started doing their societal duty and having children, they gradually disappeared as friends. I didn’t realise until later, that as soon as they popped out a kid, Lisa gradually withdrew from them. As she was in control of our social calendar, I was unaware of these interplays. One of the things that stirred my eventual action was the realisation that as well as being the chief breadwinner, I had become the chief entertainer as well. The modern man took all this in his stride.

I did notice that conditions in the nest were changing gradually. When Lisa first finished up at work, she responded by becoming rabid about housework, cooking and our garden. Our house went from being well-maintained, to immaculate. Our garden was admired by all as an area clearly loved and pampered. I came home at least twice a week to strange exotic smells from the kitchen. Life was good. Well apart from our love life that is. Almost from the day she received the devastating diagnosis, our sex life started to slide from 5ish sessions a week to, well I’m a little embarrassed to admit, 1ish. Again, this slide was gradual and not immediately noticed. In hindsight, I suppose with such a strong link between sex and procreation, and procreation now being off the agenda, sex would inevitably become psychologically uncomfortable. Modern man agreed that the legal change away from men being able to insist on their conjugal rights was the right and proper thing. Hence, modern man had no choice but to suffer frustration in silence.

I’ve just gone back and read the first page and a half of this diary and realise I may have misrepresented Lisa somewhat. I don’t want to give you the impression she was perfect, because that isn’t true. She does have some flaws. But loving partners accept and overlook those don’t they? Probably the most annoying was her, well I can’t even think of a name for it. When it came to shared duties, she amplified HER efforts by a factor of about five, but discounted MY efforts by a factor of at least two. The net result of this is that to get her to admit to me doing an equal share, I had to do about 10 times more than her. Even then it was touch and go. This could have been a source of dissent in our marriage, but I’m an enlightened 21^st century guy, I never expected my life partner to be perfect. That fairy tale crap is so last century.

I suppose the major review of my life began one Thursday afternoon. To ease Lisa’s load, I’d taken to doing the grocery shopping. I did the major one on my way home on Thursdays. I met one of our former close friends who invited us to a BBQ the following night. I was keen, so on return to the nest, I passed on the suggestion to my mate. Who promptly pointed out that as tomorrow was Friday, she would be going to her weekly meditation and didn’t think it appropriate that a married man go to a social evening on his own.

Oh, I forgot to mention weekly meditation, didn’t I. How remiss of me to forget Lisa’s one weekly foray out of the nest. Like many people who are no longer certain of the purpose to their lives, Lisa searched for a higher meaning. In the old days, this void was filled by god. The modern woman I’d married, couldn’t bring herself to follow this old school path and joined what I called a ‘recyclers of ancient wisdom’ group. Every Friday she, and a group of other lost souls met and meditated. They read each other’s auras, conjured up healing energies and other shit that I, as a modern man, was careful not to air my true views on.

I was never encouraged or asked to be involved. Well I wouldn’t fit in would I? I’d never met any of her fellow meditators socially but had observed them on the rare occasion I’d been asked to pick Lisa up afterwards. I think the term is ‘Aquarian woman’, even the 20% of them that packed penises. The men (?) were the soft, long haired, effeminate type. The type that even made this modern man’s palms itch. The women would have been called hippies in previous generations. Again, long hair, generally unkempt, soft smiles and breasts swinging freely. Unfettered by those 20^th century symbols of male dominance, brassieres. Although never proven, my imagination supplied the lush growths of armpit hair. In my mind, Lisa never really fit in to this group. With her smooth armpits and love of materialism, how could she? None of the males seemed to be relationally joined to any of the females and I was the only one picking up a spouse. Then I looked at the faces of Lisa’s fellow astral travellers and wondered no longer. Not to seem ungenerous, but most of them had faces less attractive than my own armpits.

Lisa plumbed the depths of my modernity, by telling me about Jenny’s aura that night or who the recipient of that night’s healing energy was. This modern man is ashamed to say he turned off. Most nights he went to bed alone, while modern woman meditated till way past the time modern man’s eight-hour sleep requirement start time.

Thus it was that I found myself alone on a Friday night looking around an unkempt house, with un-stowed takeaway packages from Wednesday. A house set in grounds that increasingly looked like the deep Amazon. In my brain, a lever switched from off to on. Cobweb filled neural pathways opened. A conclusion was reached. Within the guidelines of modern man, how could I put Lisa back on the rails. I’d long suspected depression triggered by Lisa’s deep seated knowledge that as far as evolution was concerned, she had no purpose. That would depress anyone. It certainly did me.

I suppose that’s where this story really starts. The next day I started my campaign to convince my mate that she should seek treatment for her depression. The campaign started badly, somewhere around negative 100, when Lisa denied having the disorder. Cursing himself, this modern man did what he should have done to start with. He researched the subject. Guess what? Most depression sufferers don’t realise they have it.

Thus began a campaign of enlightenment. The results were underwhelming, if I’m honest with myself. Lisa steadfastly refused to see unenlightened Psychiatrists or even Psychologists. Ancient easterners didn’t believe in such things and being a hippy was definitely not a disorder. This modern man was even accused of being a caveman for not believing healing energy could be summoned to be sent to some ingrown toenail sufferer through the astral plane.

After months of effort, the best I could manage was Lisa’s begrudging commitment to seek the help of her group’s guru to source an alternative advisor. This took a further two weeks and I was informed that the person in question was a lady called Thunderchild. Not a good start, but better than nothing. Consultations were on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. I would like to describe Thunderchild, but at time of writing, I still hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting her. I was assured she was a professional talker and the early signs were good. After the first week, Lisa announced that the basic problem seemed to be that she had no purpose in life. Thunderchild must have used a different form of that advice than I’d found in the last months.

I was pleasantly surprised when Lisa’s new purpose in life, charity volunteering Monday, Wednesday and Friday, seemed to trigger a partial recovery. Receding was the self-absorption. Although I had to suggest that with her counselling sessions from 3-5PM, she still had time to cook before then, so takeaways five nights a week weren’t essential. This went for housework as well. Gone was the lacklustre Lisa. Returned was a wife that cared about her appearance and was exhibiting a new lust for life. Even more pleasing was the end to the autocracy. In her depression, Lisa had stopped making decisions, leaving me to fill the breach. That was ended and democracy returned. Even to the point of Lisa making unilateral decisions that by rights, should have been joint.

Not everything was rosy though. My suggestion that rather than volunteering three days a week, she could help with my business, were firmly rebuffed. She claimed she had to follow her counsellor’s instructions to the letter and apparently, sacrifice for no personal gain was critical. No amount of hinting would make her cook Monday, Wednesday and Friday, so modern man stepped up to the plate for the first two of those. As he did, taking over the gardening chores. The Amazon was deforested, but in a good way.

Perhaps most significant an indicator of deep seated change, was the resurgent sex life of the modern couple. Vanished was the once a week beg. Replaced by a regular Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday pattern. Me, caveman, forwent complaining about this lack of spontaneity in my gratitude. All Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday attempts, were rebuffed in favour of private, late night, solo meditation. Apparently, daytime meditation was ineffective because of solar interference. 

In fact, if it wasn’t for one little thing, life was tolerable. Pleased at the increased frequency of the intimacy, modern man missed the drop in quality for the first month. Increasingly, gone was the thrashing respondent to my ardour. To be replaced, more and more blatantly, by Aquarius woman that did an increasingly convincing impression of a cadaver. Ever vigilant, not-so-modern man raised this diplomatically on one occasion. Only to be assured she enjoyed it as much as she ever had. In hindsight, a carefully worded response. I was happy when this conversation elicited a more active bedroom response. I was unhappy this response only lasted a week.

Sensitive new age man began to dread the thrice weekly ritual, so made excuses one Thursday night to break with the new tradition. He was staggered at the response of aggression that he was trying to avoid his duty. He was, pardon my French, confused as all fuck.

I was increasingly alarmed at the mounting evidence of Lisa’s obvious dependency on her counsellor, Ms Thunderchild.  She said this, then she said that, dominated many conversations. On the pretext of wanting to thank the sage, I asked if I could meet her. After consultation, this audience was refused. Beguiled, I stooped to surreptitiously waiting outside the place of meditation on Friday night. It wasn’t obvious if Ms Thunderchild was even one of the people that left those nights. The only person that stuck out from the sixties rejects that left those nights, was the ‘lady’ that locked up. ‘She’ was almost as wide as she was tall and if she challenged me to an arm wrestle, I would probably claim a sore shoulder.

So, in summary, modern man was happier now. Modern woman was returning to normal and apart from some slightly odd behaviour, things were acceptable.

Right up to the point that I returned home one Thursday, to the lack of smells of a prepared dinner, but to the sight of Lisa sitting next to two packed suitcases. More than a little confused and concerned, I took the requested seat opposite her at the kitchen table, for a short interrogation. Of me.

Did I love her? Yes, I did.

Did I think she loved me above all others on this planet? Again, yes I did.

Did I think her counsellor knew what she was talking about? Yes, on balance, I thought her counsel was having a positive effect.

Would I accept her counsellor’s advice for her to leave for several weeks to ‘find herself’?

No, I would not.

Did I think I owned her? No, definitely not.

The increasing aggression was interrupted at this point, by the arrival of a text on Lisa’s cell. Modern woman always interrupts face to face conversation to respond to texts. Struggling-to-remain-modern-man snatched said cell and stuffed it in his pocket. Lisa objected, but accepted the uselessness of a physical response. Modern man was considerably bigger than modern woman; who resorted to words instead.

If I accepted that she loved me and I loved her and I didn’t own her, why would I ignore sage advice and allow her to find herself?

Modern man refused to countenance any mission of his wife to find herself, until he was further briefed on the purpose and scope of such a mission. For example, could other men or even women be involved, sexually, in said exploration. Black and white answering was suspended while careful wording was exercised. Less carefully thought out were the words and phrases, ‘caveman’, ‘outdated heterosexist society’, ‘polygamy’.

Pausing only to mentally summarise the facts, as he saw them; that is, he believed her when she said she loved him, but extramarital sex wasn’t excluded in any absence from the family home, modern man contacted his inner caveman. He reiterated his commitment never to voluntarily break their union, but her leaving to ‘find herself’, without a convincing promise of continued fidelity, would be prima facie evidence that she was breaking their contract.

I turned off when it became apparent that no such promise was forthcoming. Picking up only the repetition of ‘caveman’ and the frequent, ‘Thunderchild said’. Using the time instead to think, I formed an action plan that was definitely not modern man’s. I went to her purse and removed her car keys, all the cash and cards, then returned to remove her rings. They were easy to remove as I knew she did that every Friday night. Free spirited hippies did not wear bras or wedding rings. Lisa railed at me. Pointing out that I was the one that insisted she needed treatment and now she was following the advice of her therapist, I had no right to object.

I pointed out, in return, that the right to object was my most fundamental democratic right. As was my basic demand of monogamy within marriage. She, as a modern woman, was quite welcome to leave the front gate and go to the arms of another man or woman, I really couldn’t decide which it was. But she would be doing that as someone who I no longer considered a wife and certainly wasn’t being sponsored by me. A little stunned by my sudden implacability, Lisa resorted to her original plan for the evening. She picked up the two bags and the remains of her handbag and walked out the front door.

I followed, mentally concluding that with no money or way of calling a cab, Lisa was either reacting on autopilot, or had someone waiting outside for her. I joined her on the front porch and searched until I saw a car across the street with its side lights on. I sprinted towards it, only to see it roar away. The eagle has sharp eyes and memorised the licence plate number. 

A very pissed modern woman followed me back into the house. The tirade I copped was decidedly unmodern and involved several expletives common since the middle ages. The tirade again seemed to centre around the contradiction between me wanting her to recover but not allowing her to follow her counsellor’s advice. Mid flow, I went to bed. Only to be told that she wasn’t going to share her bed with a caveman. I agreed she shouldn’t have to and dumped several armloads of her stuff in the spare room. The eagle slept very poorly in his eyrie that night.

I still can’t decide whether there were any apologies involved from Lisa the following morning. She assured me of her love and said that she’d obviously misjudged my commitment to her future happiness. For the sake of our 10-year marriage and the fact she loved me deeply, she was going to seek an emergency counselling session before next Tuesday to see if there were alternatives to a separation. She asked me if I could commit to the original plan if no alternatives were acceptable. The answer was no. In the spirit of detente, I did return her property. We parted with an uneasy truce.

That night, after I cooked my own dinner, I drove to her meditation venue. Noting her car was there, I settled down to wait. If there was a third person in our relationship, they were being met either here or at her charity activities. While waiting, I contacted some shady friends to see if I could put a name and address to a licence plate number. Hopes were high. An hour after everyone else left except Lisa and the wide lady, I went home, unable to keep my eyes open.

I was awoken the next day in that way that all men love, unless they are in prison of course. With a warm mouth engulfing my member. It was reminiscent of our courting days. I remembered to control my urges and warned her before the money shot. Aquarian woman doesn’t do that. She tried for a kiss afterwards. Even modern man doesn’t do that.

That morning was all about apologies. Both from Lisa and through Lisa from Thunderchild. Apologies that they’d both underestimated my desire, nay demand, for monogamy. Lisa confirmed that emergency counselling had started and I would be kept posted on progress. She was alarmed that I would ever think she would ever have a relationship with another man without my knowledge and consent.

Almost convinced that things were back on track, I relaxed my guard; largely.

A new pattern emerged over the next two months, not that different to the old one. Charity works continued three days a week, meditation once. I did notice Thunderchild’s name mentioned less, which I took as evidence that Lisa’s reliance on her was waning. That was a good thing. Despite her promises, Lisa never volunteered to enlighten me on her counsellor’s alternative plan and refused to be drawn when asked. We continued our date nights once a fortnight. Lisa continued her fortnightly visits to her mother’s, generally on Wednesdays. 

Another new aspect of my life, was my involvement with the local ‘Men’s Shed’. This was a kind of club that had approached my company as a possible sponsor. Recognising that men are more likely to have a much smaller, or totally absent, support network of other men, than women are of other women, Men’s sheds were born. It was a kind of social club where men could pursue mutual interests of just share world views. Sure, divorcees were overrepresented but that was all good. The first couple of visits I made were eye opening, as I watched men emotionally supporting each other, just as traditionally, women did. I made some good mates there and tried to go once a week. Generally, on Fridays and on Lisa’s mother’s nights.

After two months of the new deal, I was getting increasingly suspicious about Lisa’s refusal to be drawn on the replacement for her trip away from the home to discover herself. It must be pretty huge if it took two months even to get to the point I could be briefed on what it was. There was no change to the frequency of our sex. However, after a brief increase in quality, it returned to its new, lacklustre norm. As an experiment, I turned down her requests a couple of Tuesdays and Thursdays. She still got quite agitated. Bizarre.

With no end in sight for my insidious doubts, I made one phone call on one Wednesday to move our relationship along.

I met Lisa at the door at 9.17PM on that same Wednesday night. Mother-in-law night. As she took off her coat, I enquired as to her mother’s health. Lisa said she was fine and began a litany of the old lady’s current complaints. She kept that up until she followed me into the kitchen for the offered cup of hot chocolate. It was there she came face to face with her mother. The latter recovered fairly quickly from the realisation that I’d duped her. Lisa turned pale, then actually vomited into the sink. After her mother gave her a few choice words on the subject of honesty and integrity, she stormed out. As a considerate host, modern man escorted her to the door. When he returned, he went searching for his wife. While I was upstairs, I heard Lisa’s car start and drive out of our circular driveway. The bitch had even left the back door open in her haste. She was still MIA the next day when I left for work and wasn’t answering her cell. Telephonically, I found out she hadn’t contacted her mother.

I allocated some of my valuable time, pondering my long standing commitment to mate for life and never knowingly throw my mate out of the nest. My conclusion was that nothing had to change, no matter how odious things may become. With a heavy heart, I returned home that Thursday night. Not surprisingly, Lisa wasn’t there. Very surprisingly, she rang just before 7PM, but after establishing I was home, rang off. I can’t remember if I was surprised or not when I heard her car in the driveway 15 minutes later.

Modern man went to the door and through the little window, saw a second car pulled up behind hers in the driveway. Lisa had exited her car by then and walked to the second one. A slimish, 5’ 10”ish man of about our age got out and glanced at the house. They joined hands and he leaned down to kiss my wife briefly on the lips. Now I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I didn’t need to be Einstein to realise I was seeing the opening gambit of the public aspect of plan B. It might have been nervousness, that was making Lisa hop from one foot to the other. It usually meant she desperately needed to go to the toilet. Perhaps one triggered the other.

Before they took two steps towards the house I was through the door and facing them. Lisa and her friend stopped dead. I saw him squeeze her hand for courage. Her words will be etched on my soul for decades to come.

“David, this is Michael, the, er, other man I love. I’m sorry you are meeting like this, but after what happened last night, you forced our hand. I just wanted to bring him here to show you he is a nice guy and is no threat to you.”

I nearly laughed at this last piece of information. Blind Freddy could see that 5’ 10” slim Mick was no threat to 6’ 1” muscled Dave. Mick never made eye contact with me, but gave Lisa a look as if to say, “I thought you said your husband worked in an office.” I think he either hadn’t been informed of my physical characteristics or they’d been misrepresented.

At that moment, my earlier guess proved right, when Lisa strode past me, through the door and headed for the toilet, with Michael trailing after. Modern man followed Lisa in the door. Caveman took one step forwards and slammed a meaty fist into Michael’s solar plexus. Caveman grinned as his rival was lifted off his feet and dumped on his ass. He then watched as Michael literally crawled back to his car, got in and drove off. Not bad for a guy that was at least another half minute away from being able to draw breath.  

I was still looking at the retreating suitor, when Lisa returned. Bewilderedly, she followed my gaze.

“Where’s Michael going?”

“He decided not to hang around.”

“You didn’t hurt him did you? I told you he was no threat.”

“Did you ask yourself if I was a threat to him?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I thought not. I’m guessing he didn’t either.”

Lisa automatically grabbed her phone. Very unmodern man grabbed it off her, propped it between the bricks of the house and the concrete path around the house. Then with one stomp, broke it forever. Lisa stared at the phone, then at me like I was an alien.

“But I love him. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“And you don’t see anything wrong with that statement do you, wife?”

“But, Thunderchild said it was okay.”

“Come in Lisa. It sounds like you’re starting half way through a prepared script.”

This brilliant sarcasm was totally lost on Lisa. She smiled at me as if in genuine gratitude. I led her into the lounge. When she sat next to me on the couch, I pointedly moved to one of the chairs opposite. I gave her as much time as she needed to compose her thoughts. After all, it was me that had rudely derailed her plot.

“Well Dave, it all started when I first went to see Thunderchild…”

“Sorry to interrupt Lisa. I know I should have asked this months ago, but is she actually a qualified counsellor?”

“Nearly Dave. She’s in the second year of a degree in social work.”

“Not qualified then, but that didn’t stop you seeing her did it?”

“You’ve never met her Dave. She’s so wise, so worldly. She got straight to the heart of our problem, so I knew she was the right choice.”

“And what is the heart of our problem Lisa. In Thunderchild’s humble fucking opinion?”

“She told me that my self-esteem problems were because you took me for granted Dave. You treat me like a possession and not an equal member of our marriage team. In short, you repress me. She said our partnership was imbalanced and not only because…I really hate saying this Dave…I’m out of your league. She said I just needed to do something to spur you out of your, how did she put it, that’s right, relational lethargy.”

Far out, I’m proud of the way I didn’t just explode at this point. You know how on cartoons the character’s eyes bug out when surprised. That’s what my brain felt like. The depths of Lisa’s self-delusion were just staggering. Then I remembered her habit of inflating herself and what she did, while deflating everything I did. Where to start?

“Exactly how am I out of your league Lisa?”

“Well daddy WAS a doctor and you’re, well you’re just a tradesman. But I don’t want to dwell on that Dave. It’s not your fault you didn’t have the opportunities daddy did. Anyway, I decided that the best way to shock you, was to pretend to take a lover, then kind of let you find out about him. That way you would appreciate what you had in me. Then I’d agree to give him up in exchange for you treating me like an equal, giving me the respect due to a daughter of the moon goddess.”

You might be wondering why I didn’t die laughing at this statement. This is what her group of loony friends believed. It seemed to be a blend of Buddhism and paganism. Until now I’d thought it was harmless. Guess I fucked up. In hindsight, I now realise I was too stunned to reply.

“But it went off the rails somewhere along the line. I met Michael and he was really nice. He’s better than you, he works in an office, as a supervisor.”

Lisa glowed with reflected pride at this.

“His hands are always soft and clean. Sorry, I’m getting off the point here. Anyway, we started going out and I started, er, having feelings for him. That wasn’t part of the plan and I didn’t know what to do. I stopped seeing him for a week so I could think. Then I realised it was time to start rubbing your nose in it, so you could begin fighting for me. But when it came right down to it, I couldn’t do it. Call me a coward if you like, but after loving you for so many years, I realised I just couldn’t do it, I couldn’t hurt you like that. In that week away from Michael, I realised I loved him. I know he loves me. He can’t keep his hands off me. It’s like you and I were 10 years ago, before you got complacent.”

At this point, I was too overwhelmed to speak. I’d only felt this way once before. I was bushfire fighting. It was early evening, when fires normally slow down due to the rising humidity. The fire was slowly rolling down a hill, against the wind. Myself and a bunch of other volunteers, were lighting a leisurely back-burn off a dozed firebreak about a kilometre from the base of the hill. We weren’t in a hurry as we knew we had hours. The fire reached the base of the hill and just flashed. Against the wind and rising humidity, it covered the kilometre between the hill and me in about two minutes. It was so huge and so violent, that I instinctively knew that it was a complete waste of time running. I was either dead or our fire break would stop it. At the risk of stating the obvious, the latter occurred. The point is, the feeling of horrified fascination I had then, was the same as I felt now.

“That’s when I suggested the separation, so I could explore my feelings for Michael. When you didn’t let me go voluntarily, I realised I couldn’t leave without telling you the real reason. I loved you too much still Dave, I couldn’t hurt you. So I went back to sneaking around behind your back. That way I could explore my feelings for Michael without hurting you.”

How do you spell delusional logic? I could see that Lisa was really conflicted. Well, she wasn’t dumb and subliminally, she must know this was complete bullshit. Time to do some fact finding.

“So Lisa, I’m guessing you wanted to sleep with him, but couldn’t get around your old fashioned values of not sleeping with someone you didn’t love. Could that be why you fell in love with him?”

Perhaps because I seemed to be taking the conversation seriously, Lisa stopped to consider this. At that point, I knew she didn’t fully understand her feelings. She’d also confirmed she’d slept with him and wasn’t feeling any guilt about it at all. Bizarre. But it got even stranger. Lisa smiled suddenly.

“Maybe Dave. I did well though didn’t I? I’ve been sleeping with him for two and a half months now and you didn’t have a clue. I made sure you didn’t see any differences. Tell me you saw any difference in my behaviour, any difference in my love for you. Did our loving ever change in any way. No, because I love you now like I always have. Michael is not part of us, he sits outside of us. I also want you to know that he hasn’t been getting anything you haven’t. You and I have sex three times a week, as do Michael and I. You and I go out once every two weeks, as do Michael and I. So, you found out about Michael and I. Nothing has to change. I promise you will never see the difference.”

I finally found my voice. I decided to burst a couple of logic bubbles.

“Well Lisa, in retrospect, I can spot the differences. I didn’t at the time, as I trusted you and thought we shared an equal commitment to fidelity. Wasn’t that silly of me. I’m guessing you’ve been meeting Michael Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. That’s when you’ve been putting effort into your appearance. I didn’t notice any difference in your movements as you don’t work and I’m away all day earning a living, singlehandedly. As for our sex life. I did notice an increase in quantity but a drop-off in quality, like you were just going through the motions. I just thought that was part of your treatment. Treatment that you refused to discuss with me remember.”

I paused to see if that was getting through to her. I’d noticed her quail when I’d used the words trust and fidelity, as well as when I’d pointed out that she’d utilised her idleness to deceive me. When she didn’t volunteer any more, I decided to explore the boundaries of her delusions.

“So you’re asking me if you can keep the current arrangement going?”

That snapped her out of any shame or guilt she was feeling. I knew there was some. Even without her facial clues, I knew no amount of self-delusion could mask deeply held feelings fully.

“No, not asking Dave. It’s important for me to assert myself, to stop you dominating me.”

“So, where does this leave us? Are you going to leave me and go with Michael?”

“I…I don’t know Dave. You, er, interrupted my plans before I’d fully explored my feelings for Michael. He treats me better than you do, but I’m mature enough to realise that’s maybe just because our love is new and fresh. He has plenty of money to spoil me, while we always seem to be struggling. I’m confused. I love you both, but it’s kind of different. I just don’t know Dave.”

I knew the bit about the money was right, but wasn’t going to share the reasons. I was paying for a four-bedroom house. Bought in anticipation of having a family, years ago. Shithead lived in a one-bedroom apartment. Oh yes, I’d done my research after getting his licence plate number. The other reason was that I’d sunk all our spare cash into the business. The business that I’d been quietly moving out of Lisa’s reach since I’d discovered the car belonged to a Michael Smith, then convinced myself that Michael and Thunderchild were two different people. I needed more time. This eagle used to be an eagle scout. The scout’s motto has always been, ‘be prepared’. I was really regretting allowing my trust of Lisa to dominate my actions for the last two months, I still couldn’t believe how much her fundamental beliefs had changed. I also regretted that the time I had to spend on the business, at this critical point, excluded me spying on Lisa during her charity days. There had to be a factor I was missing here.

“Where does that leave me Lisa, or should I say, us?”

“Well, I was talking to Michael last night and he brought up a valid point. It’s unfair that you get to live with me and get me almost exclusively, while he just gets me for part of three days a week.”

“Oh yes. I meant to ask how come he works in an office and yet gets to see you during the day.”

“He starts work at 3PM and works till 11. He has every second Wednesday off. Now, as I was saying, Michael thinks it’s unfair that he only gets to see me so little. He wants to take me on vacation. He has a caravan so it should be fun. We were going to go when I suggested that separation, but you spoiled that. Now that you know about him, I think it’s fair that that I spend more time with him.”

“I’m sorry to ruin your holiday with your boyfriend, wife.”

Again this blistering sarcasm completely went over her head. I’d have to do some research on delusions. These were staggering in their scope. I needed some way to shake her up.

“You really have no idea how you’ve hurt me by your betrayal, have you? How much damage you’ve done?”

“Oh no, you don’t get to lay that on me. If you’d just gone along with our separation idea and kept your nose out of my business, we’d not be having this conversation and you wouldn’t have got hurt.”

Logic of sorts I suppose, but DAMN! God, there must be some way past her defences. Guilt obviously wasn’t going to work. It wouldn’t make any difference, of course, her fate had been sealed for half an hour now. Bemusement was interrupted, when she went to the toilet again. I began again when she returned.

“So, you’re going on a lovey-dovey vacation with Michael; then what?”

“Well I’m not naïve enough to think that I’ll be certain which way to decide after a two-week vacation. I’ll have to see how I feel. I’ll either stay with him for a few more weeks after that or come back here. When I come back I promise to let you show me how much you love me. I assure you. I’ll be making my decision with an open mind. You’ll see nothing will have changed.”

“How long do you plan on this going on Lisa.”

“Only until I’ve made up my mind Dave. I’m not silly enough to expect to have both of you long term. I really don’t know how long it will take, but rest assured, once I make up my mind, I’ll let one of you know. Please don’t ask me to commit to a time frame. This is too important for that.”

I went to the toilet this time. Maybe splashing my face with cold water would snap me out of my dream. This couldn’t really be happening, could it? One of the things confusing me; there were only about a thousand, was where her counsellor fit into all this. I sat back down, still dreaming unfortunately.

“What worries me Lisa, is if your counsellor recommended you do selfless charity work and you’ve been meeting Michael instead, how do you expect to recover. I mean, why get a counsellor and then ignore what she said?”

Finally, signs of shame. Lisa broke eye contact for a long pause.

“Um Dave. She didn’t recommend I do charity work. The whole fake affair thing was her idea. I was a little worried when I found Michael and actually fell in love with him. But I checked with Thunderchild and she said it was fine. In fact, she said it would work better. She said it would be so much more convincing this way. To tell you the truth, I was really having trouble justifying sleeping with him, but she said it was fine. It wasn’t cheating because it was under doctor’s orders.”

Lisa smiled at the memory of a past shared joke. I sat there with my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. How can you get through to someone, who would justify anything by saying it was all right because a half trained, hippie bitch said it was okay? How could I get rid of that smug smile?

“Lisa, how would you react if I pulled a stunt like this on you? Came home and said that I’d met another woman and wanted some time away to see if I loved her more than I did you?”

The smile got bigger.

“Yes, Thunderchild said you’d ask that. She calls you my caveman, you know. But look at yourself Dave. You’re an electrician. You were lucky to get me. You’ll never meet anyone who could love you as much as I do. To answer your question though, I hope if the situation were reversed, I would be big enough to understand your dilemma. It would just spur me to fight harder.”

Her face softened abruptly.

“Look Dave, I don’t want you to think I can’t feel your pain. I can imagine what you’re going through. I’m just sorry that you made it necessary.”

She got up as if to leave. I was desperate to put a little hurt on her before she did. Plus, I’m a basically honest guy.

“Before you go Lisa, I just want you to know that the deal I told you about when you tried to leave last time, still applies. If you drive out that gate, that’s the end. I will consider it a request for a divorce. There will be no way back.”

Lisa just smiled again.

“Thunderchild said you’d try that bluff as well Dave. Just look at it from my point of view. The worst that can happen is that I end up with Michael. Richer and happier. You can’t bluff with no cards Dave.”

The bitch knew I was bluffing, but had the reason totally wrong. My company accountant told me I needed another month at least to transfer ownership of my company. I decided on a desperate lash out.

“Look Lisa. Whatever happens, I will feel responsible for you until you marry someone else; someone decent. Especially since I now know you’re way sicker than I ever suspected. That responsibility includes protecting you from a man who is such a lowlife that he would steal a married woman away from her husband. A coward that takes off and lets the love of his life face her angry husband alone.”

Finally, I could see I’d got through to her. Deep down she remembered her old values. I don’t know how deep her fundamental shame was buried, but I knew it was still there. Delighted in the prospect of returning some pain, I said more than should have. It risked ruining my newly hatched plan but hey, I’m only human.

“If you think I’m going to sit here like a supplicant, waiting for you to throw me some scraps, you’re wrong. Just like I’m not going to let you and that wife stealing, scum sucking mollusc, ride off happily into the sunset. Though maybe you deserve each other. The amoralistic wanker and the slut who breaks her marriage vows.”

Yes, the modern man was dead. The caveman ruled supreme. I watched the hurt hit home. Then I watched the filters inside her head do their evil work. The smile returned.

“Bluffing again David. Keep the light on, I’ll be back in two weeks, a month at the most.”

She turned away towards the front door. Conversation over. Ultimatum delivered. Once she was out the door, she saw the remains of her phone.

“I’ll ring and tell you my new phone number.”

“Don’t bother, I won’t need it.”

She looked confused.

“Why Dave? If you don’t have my number, how can you ring me before I get back?”

“I won’t need to ring you ever again. Stuff your number where the sun doesn’t shine.”

Again I saw the filters at work and the smile return.

“Look Dave, I’m really sorry I had to do things this way. I know I’ve hurt you and would give anything to have avoided that. But as I see it, we’re both better off now that I don’t have to sneak around behind your back. I felt bad that you forced me to do that. It was really stressful and stopped me relaxing around you. If you love me as much as I love you, we’ll be fine. See you soon.”

“No, goodbye Lisa. Give me a ring before you come over to visit next time. Now we have an open marriage, I may be entertaining a lady, if you know what I mean.”

She stopped.

“What’s an open marriage Dave?”

“You know Lisa. It’s where a married couple sleep with other people outside the marriage.”

Lisa reacted instinctively. She swung around and took two steps towards me. Then she stopped and the smile returned. She’d recognised the cheap tactic to get her to contradict what she’d said before. Still smiling she strode to her car and drove off. I wondered when she’d discover that I’d removed all the bank cards from her wallet. I also had her rings, removed before she went to her ‘mothers’ yesterday. If lover boy was going to poke her for the next month, he could pay her bills. I went back to the house to ring my accountant. There must be a way of speeding up the legal process of divesting a company.

Lisa’s mother rang for an update that night. I told the simple truth. Not because I vindictively wanted to cause more pain to Lisa, but simply because even cavemen are honest guys. Besides we’d always consulted about Lisa issues. From her declining mental health, to pressuring her to find a counsellor. Her mum suggested that whatever happened to us as a couple, steps should be taken to remove Thundechild from Lisa’s life. I couldn’t agree more. The last thing her mum said to me was that whatever happened, she would be there for her. I read between the lines. She knew that her daughter had gone way beyond the foul line into unrecoverable territory. She was clearing my conscience.

That night, Mr Michael Smith was attacked in his driveway and had his wallet stolen. When the police visited him in hospital he described his attacker as being over six feet and wearing a ski mask. Surprisingly, the police didn’t visit me. It is a rough neighbourhood I suppose. What a waste of an alibi, re-wiring the men’s shed with two divorcee witnesses. I was watching his flat the next day when Lisa brought him home from the hospital. He was stooping slightly; that would be the broken ribs. He also walked like an old cowboy. Swollen testicles do that to a guy.

I rang a locksmith the next day as I’d come home to find much of Lisa’s stuff missing. She also left her new phone number. I programed it in to my cell so I knew which calls to ignore. 

Two weeks later, I watched Lisa and him loading up the caravan parked in his driveway, already attached to his car. That activity lasted until late at night, under the glare of the newly installed security lights.

The next night I drove past the flat and saw a bizarre sight. A car with its nose pointing at the sky and a smashed windscreen above the steering wheel. The back axle of the car, complete with wheels, sat a metre behind the trunk. Behind those, a caravan on its side. A trained forensic investigator would have pieced this mystery together quickly. A driver, gunning the engine to get a heavy caravan up the driveway, stunned when the chain attaching the rear axle of the car to a tree reached its limit. The sudden jolt dislocating the rear bogie and Newton’s first law causing the drivers head hit the windscreen. Should have worn a seatbelt Mick. The impetus from the suddenly tightening chain under the caravan wheel, flipping it onto its side. Bloody kids and their pranks. On a separate matter. Two more nights and I’ll have the men’s shed completely re-wired.

Neither the happy couple, nor the police had so far linked me to the two incidents. Goodo.

Lisa had left two messages on my phone so far. Reminding me she loved me and enquiring about my health. I bought a snazzy new phone and had fun reprograming it. Most calls got diverted to my old number. Calls from Lisa would be diverted to Gamblers Anonymous. I figured that was appropriate, as she was taking the biggest gamble of her life.

When Michael came home the night of the incident, his head was bandaged and he was stooping again. Hitting the steering wheel with those healing ribs must have really hurt. I’m fairly sure that even if he was enjoying my wife’s company, he wasn’t enjoying her bedroom skills.

I asked around among my guys, which of them had broken ribs in the past. The one I found explained that it was a good month before he could do anything like normal activities. Therefore, four weeks after the original beating, Michael was again attacked. Coincidentally, by a six footer again, but with a different ski mask. Again he was battered and bruised, particularly in the groin area. Also again, his wallet was stolen.

This time I was visited by the local constabulary. As was the men’s shed member whose house I was installing new light fittings in at the time of the incident. Marvellous how the charter of the men’s shed was working. Men supporting each other in adversity. From what I could gather, Michael was in hospital three days that time. It was a little hard to tell, he hadn’t replaced his car yet. Whether he wasn’t insured or they wouldn’t honour his claim, I just didn’t know. Or care, for that matter.

The messages from Lisa on my land line, were getting more frequent and more despondent. I guess she was lonely in that apartment all alone. Not desperate enough to see how serious I was about my bluff though. She sure was a confident little cheater, I’ll give her that. I’m was a little surprised she didn’t come around for sex. It had been a while for her I’m guessing.

I watched Michael’s work at 11PM some nights just for a laugh. It was comical watching him open a first floor window and carefully scan the carpark for a good five minutes before daring to leave. Crikey, I guess that makes me a terrorist. This observation also allowed me to spot another pattern that would be useful in the future.

Two weeks later, I finally got the call I’d been waiting for from my accountant. I no longer owned my company, some guy in the Cayman Islands did. I hoped to meet him one day, he was loaded thanks to that big government contract that I’d landed a couple of months ago. I was back to being a humble electrician again. I guess Lisa was right. I would always be a tradesman.

Time to end the charade. That very night I staked out Michaels office. At just after 10PM, one of the cleaners left the side door to dump multiple trash bags in the dumpster. I snuck in the propped open door and hid behind the reception desk. There were no cameras that I could see. I grabbed the telephone directory off the receptionist’s desk. There he was, Mr Michael Smith. Damn, he was a supervisor; a building supervisor. That’s like a janitor isn’t it? He worked nights to do maintenance and supervise the cleaners I suppose. I was embarrassed. If that was trading up, what did that make me. My first guess of looking in the basement paid off. There was only one lit room down there and it revealed a dozing Michael Smith. Feet up on the desk.

I tapped him on the shoulder and he leapt up as if at Cape Canaveral. I fully intended giving him another kicking, but he looked so pathetic that I just didn’t have the heart. He stared into my face, a look of terror blossoming like a flower on those sped up nature films. He voluntarily backed into a corner. Well my hands on his lapels helped. He said nothing, so I did.

“Hello Michael. Aren’t you going to greet an old friend.”

He latched on to one of my words.

“Friend?”

“Yes, of course. This is the fourth time we’ve met after all.”

The recognition of my meaning spread across his face. I didn’t know there was an expression beyond terror.

“Relax Mikey. Nothing is going to happen, unless you answer wrong to my next four questions. Understand?”

Nod.

“Are you going to report this meeting to the police?”

Shake.

“Are you going to tell Lisa about this meeting?”

Shake.

“Are you going to fuck another man’s wife for as long as you live?”

Shake.

“Do you understand what will happen if you break this agreement?”

Very vigorous nod.

“Then our meeting is concluded. Have a nice, peaceful life.”

With that public service complete, and the smell of urine in my nose, I caveman, carefully snuck out the way I came.

I’m happy to say I don’t have a feckin clue when Lisa was evicted from Michael’s salubrious apartment. Whether it was that night and she went to her mother’s, or he was generous enough to put her up for the night. I figured she never knew I’d changed the locks, that would have triggered a worried phone call at some point, I’m sure. Talking of phone calls, I heard nothing that night or the next day. With no clues to go on, I had to take a punt on when she’d show. I got lucky.

It was after nine the next night that I heard a rattle, just like a key that no longer fit, being tried in a door lock. After almost a minute, the doorbell rang. I opened it in my dressing gown. There, of course, was Lisa. I don’t know how I expected her to look, but it probably wasn’t the well dressed, well made-up, but slightly apprehensive visage I was greeted with. When she stepped in for a kiss, I neatly side stepped and took her coat off for her. I invited her in like a guest and we moved in to sit at the kitchen table. There was really only one way for her to play this and I wasn’t disappointed.

“So Lisa, what can I do for you?”

Deliberately wording this question like I would to a guest or customer was, well, deliberate. Wasted effort though.

“I have good news Dave. I’ve made my mind up and you’ll love it.”

She paused to look at the expression of eager anticipation on my face. Sorry I’m not that good an actor. I just continued to stare at her sadly. Seemingly unfazed, she continued.

“I was right about the new love thing. Once the novelty wore off with Michael, I realised I didn’t really love him like I love you. Plus, I don’t think he was really as well off as he led me to believe. After a few weeks he stopped spoiling me like he used to and asked me to cut down on what I was spending. On top of that he’s had some, er, health issues. I stopped having sex with him six weeks ago, if that makes you feel better. I’ve had my discovery time now, got it out of my system and I’ve discovered that I want to recommit to you. Isn’t that good news?”

Yup, exactly what I thought.

“Finally kicked you out did he?”

“I don’t know what you mean Dave. I made up my mind last night and told him we were finished. It was too late to come here so I went to mum’s.”

“When did you discover lying was so easy Lisa. He kicked you out last night and thank fuck for that. I was getting a little sick of beating up the little bitch.”

As I sat there rubbing my knuckles, I saw the dawn of realisation spread across Lisa’s face. Three beatings, one car accident and a sudden changing of his commitment, took a while to process.

“Well, I’m back now David, so we can go back to how we used to be.”

I laughed out loud at that. About 10 seconds later, Fiona came out of our bedroom. She had on only a pair of panties and one of my old tee shirts. I’ll describe her for you. Fiona is only 22, owns a slim little body, topped by a way better than plain face. Even without make-up on she made Lisa look bad. Fiona said,” Hiya,” as she passed on her way to getting a glass from the cupboard, filled it with milk and walked out again. She gave me a peck on the cheek as she passed. Lisa said nothing but performed the best goldfish impression I’ve ever seen.

“Sorry about that Lisa, but I did suggest you rang before coming here. I didn’t want you to find out like this, but it’s not my fault you came around unannounced. Look at it like this though, now at least we don’t have to sneak around behind your back. It’s been going on for a while now.”

Finally, Lisa rediscovered speech.

“You have a girlfriend?”

“Yes Lisa. When you left, I was pretty devastated; I took to drinking. I met a guy called Bluey down the pub and he told me I had self-esteem problems. He’d once done an adult education course in woodwork, so he seemed qualified to give advice. He assured me he’d learned something from all three of his ex-wives. Anyway, after I told him that I’d been spurned by someone out of my league, he said it was essential that I chat up a wide variety of girls to find out exactly what ‘my league’ was. Fiona is the third one I’ve tried. I know she’s a little old, maybe a little plain and plump, but she seems happy to hang around with this mere tradesman. Her dad was only a Boilermaker.”

I paused so Lisa could mentally compare her age, looks and figure to the vision of loveliness that was even now in her bed. That was all the time I gave her though.

“Yeah, she works, cooks, seems to like sex more than three times a week and is quite vocal while we’re doing it. Oh, and she doesn’t treat me like a beast of burden, who not only brings in all the household income but has to do his share of the household chores and gardening. I love her already, but it’s a different kind of love to ours, fresher and more vibrant. I’m mature enough to realise that’s maybe just because our love is newer, less stale.”

If Lisa’s face was anything to go by, her blood pressure was reaching dangerous levels.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with her, but I checked with Bluey and he said it was all right. My ego would still be repaired. My love for Fiona doesn’t have to change what you and I have though. After all, I’ve been sleeping with her for four weeks now and you can’t tell me you’ve noticed any difference in the way I’ve treated you can you?”

I have no idea how much of this irony was sinking in, but I felt it was all necessary if my plan was to succeed. I paused to get a clue as to how she was taking it. Not very well, apparently.

“I…I…I…”

“Fully agree with Bluey’s advice. Well, that’s a relief I can tell you. I wouldn’t want to hurt you, you know that, but I haven’t had time to fully explore my feelings for Fiona yet. Decide which of you I love the most, kind of thing. I’m not naïve enough to think that I’ll be certain which way to decide after such a short time. I’ll have to see. I promise to let you know my decision as soon as I make it. If you leave again, you’ll see nothing has to change. I’m not silly enough to expect to have both of you long term. Please don’t ask me to commit to a time frame. This is too important for that”

Confirmation that not all of my speech was sinking into Lisa’s consciousness, came with her next statement.

“You…you can’t expect me to live here with that…that trollop staying here. You’re my husband Dave. Your wife is back now, so she’ll have to go.”

“Ah yes. Bluey warned me that you may take that line. He told me if you did, I was to assert myself. I know it’s unreasonable to ask you to both share the house, so if you go back to your mother’s, I’ll let you know when I’ve reached a decision.”

At that point, I took advantage of her complete perplexity, raised her to her feet and led her to the door. As I stood on the front step, handing over her purse and coat, I whispered in her ear, “Are you feeling my pain yet?” After shutting the door, it was a good 10 minutes before I heard her car drive away. 

 I wasn’t at all prepared for what I found when I got home the following night. Lisa was cooking dinner, there was an invoice from a locksmith on the table and a new key, right next to a court order insisting she had every right to stay in the marital home. How was I to know one of her meditation group was a lawyer. In the few words we exchanged, it was obvious that Lisa’s confidence had returned. Bugger. While she continued cooking, I moved her stuff out of my bedroom into the spare, before packing an overnight bag and leaving without a word. I had a couch and showers at work, so I could hide out there indefinitely. I ignored all phone calls.

I decided to go home the following night, after dinner. Lisa was watching TV. She tried to put her arms around me from behind as I made a cup of tea, but I span out of that. She asked me where her rings were and I’ told her that this struggling tradesman had to sell them to make ends meet. She looked shocked at that and opened her mouth to say something, changed her mind and went back to the TV. I was a little surprised she was still in the spare room. For once I was a little unsure of her game plan. Assuming she had one of course.  

In the middle of the night, I felt her slide naked into my bed. I told her in no uncertain terms that she should know I was a loyal soul. I would never two-time Fiona. She left, sobbing quietly.

Friday, she came home from meditation to find me cuddling on the couch with Fiona. She glared daggers at her, until Fiona was really uncomfortable. We just up and went into the master bedroom. Fiona did her panty/t-shirt parade again the next morning while she was fixing us breakfast in bed. She just ignored Lisa.

That set the pattern for the next two weeks or so. I was either away from the house or there with Fiona. I hardly spoke a word to Lisa. I was still doing the shopping but getting really curious what Lisa was using for money. I solved that one when I looked in her purse one day. She still had copies of Michael’s bank cards. Stupid prick must have forgotten to cancel them. Was he in for a surprise when he got his next statement.

After two weeks, I was leaving for work when Lisa requested I be home that night so we could talk. I returned with Fiona much to Lisa’s chagrin. Multiple attempts to get her to leave, failed. So she launched into her prepared speech anyway.

“Dave this is unfair. When I left to go to Michael’s, I told you I’d come back and give you an opportunity to make your pitch to me. Now you’ve turned the tables, but you won’t let me do the same to you. How can I with HER here all the time?”

“I’m sorry Lisa, but they were your rules not mine.”

“Well, it’s decision time buster, it’s either me or this.”

She threw a divorce application on the table. I flicked through it. Blank and unsigned.

“Bluey warned me that you would try and bluff like this.”

“It most certainly isn’t a bluff. How can I prove that?”

“By signing it.”

With a look of determination but some hesitancy, Lisa grabbed a pen and signed it. Once again a conversation wasn’t going how she’d imagined it in her head. Once signed, she threw the pen down and glared at me. I couldn’t believe my luck.

“I still think you’re bluffing Lisa. Can I just get this straight? You haven’t worked for three years, have made me be the sole breadwinner, even refused to help out with the business. You do fuck all housework, bugger all shopping or yard maintenance. We ate takeaways every second night because you couldn’t be bothered cooking. The only time you’ve cared about your appearance was when you were meeting your boyfriend. You’ve let yourself go and quite frankly you’re a little disappointing in bed. You’ve lied to me directly and by omission, not to mention screwed another guy behind my back. Thus proving yourself totally unworthy of my trust and respect. Worst of all though, you’ve condemned me to a childless future. AND you still believe you’re in a position to dictate terms?”

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t enjoyed Lisa’s discomfiture to date, but this last statement was giving me no pleasure at all. I watched each of my home truths slam into Lisa’s consciousness. She watched sickly as I signed the papers, then passed them to Fiona so she could witness both autographs. When she’d done, I folded them up and pocketed them. Lisa just followed the paper with her eyes.

“I call your bluff Lisa. It’s a shame you thought I was bluffing when I said that our marriage was over if you drove out the gate to go to your Janitor. In truth it was over the first time you fucked the little prick.”

“But…but Dave, you’ve always said an eagle would never leave his mate.”

“Yes Lisa, but I never said I’d stand in the way of the eagle’s mate leaving him.”

Again, the goldfish reigned supreme for several minutes. Then,

“If you knew our marriage was over when I left, why did you destroy my relationship with Michael? It got so bad he was afraid to leave the house at night.”

“It’s a guy thing Lisa. He stole something that was mine and I couldn’t rest until he’d paid for that. Plus, I meant what I said that time. Until we’re finally divorced, I’ll feel responsible for you. I couldn’t let you set up with that little shit.”

The last spark of defiance sprang up in Lisa’s eyes.

“I could go back to him you know. I’m sure he’ll take me back and look after me.”

I just linked the fingers of both hands and flexed them backwards. They cracked impressively.

“Ready when you are Lisa.”

Lisa did just about the only thing left for her to do. She took off.

Epilogue.

Lisa’s mother came round the following Friday night. I invited her in. She showed no animosity towards me, which I figured was as good as a statement of understanding from her. She expressed surprise that my girlfriend wasn’t there and asked where she was. I looked at my watch and said that at this time of night she would probably be in a restaurant on the tropical island she was on. When she raised an eyebrow in enquiry, I explained that as an expression of gratitude for her services, I’d treated her and her fiancé to a week long holiday on company expense. They both had a very understanding boss, some guy that owned an electrical contracting business apparently. I also expressed pleasure that since she’d gone, I got to sleep in my own bed again, not on a mattress on the floor. I swear I saw admiration in her eyes.

Then we got down to business. She was here to negotiate the divorce settlement. My generous offer of splitting all our assets, except the company, 50/50 made it a quick easy process. She never tried to get a piece of the business, she knew her daughter hadn’t contributed a penny or a finger worth of effort.

We parted friends still. I gave her Lisa’s cards back and explained she could use them for reasonable expenses until the divorce was final. I didn’t explain that the limits were drastically reduced. I’m not stupid.    

That was 14 days ago. Last Friday I’d kept a vigil outside meditation, then followed a short, wide student back to a lonesome old house. The battered old bomb had a personalised licence plate, ‘T child’. Tonight I was returning to my car having just replaced an appropriate fuse wire with one that was patently way too big. Then, after a little break and entry, I’d sabotaged the light switch just inside the front door as only a humble electrician can. Let’s just say that Thunderchild was about to be struck by lightning. If this didn’t work, I was quite prepared to rechristen my axe handle ‘Lightning’. I figure after about six or eight episodes of being thrown across the room by 240 volts or having appliances blow up, she’d be primed. Then we might have a little chat about the wisdom of giving advice when not qualified.

The end.  

At the risk of repeating myself. Anyone who thinks a woman can’t be as delusional as Lisa above, has never met my wife. My wife goes to meditation every Friday night and believes everything that Lisa does above. She also describes herself as the daughter of the moon goddess. The bit about me having to do 10 times more than her to get her acknowledgement that I’m doing my share is true, as is the firefighting episode. She does have some redeeming features though. I walked in the door the other day and there was my wife. She had a pair of 38s pointed right at me. She had a gun as well. J

In homage to the late, great Dave Allen.

A drunk is staggering down the street when he passes a guy standing next to his car which has the hood/bonnet up. The guy is staring into the engine bay.

“What’s wrong mate,” asks the drunk.

“Piston broke,” says the driver.

“Yup, so am I,” replies the drunk.