The Bitch Who Always Calls the Cops

My latest title is not just “The Birch Who Always Call the Cops”, but is now  also “The Bitch Who calls the Cops Whenever She Wants To”.  This is because crazy guy got blackout drunk one Saturday night recently after drinking heavily for 24 hours, called me around 10 to pick him up, was screaming and weaving without the Segeway and his wallet in the dark at a closed Legion, and was so abusive verbally I drove him to the Cop Shop and called the cops. Never mind that is the 4th time he’s gone to the drunk tank this year, and that two of those arrests were due to other people calling the cops, because crazy guy was disruptive, hostile and in  blackout in public. One time he stood at a road and flipped off everyone who drove by for no particular reason except he was raging mad and stinko on booze.

This time his belligerence while drunk led to him being physically hurt at the drunk tank. Two young policepeople  hurt his arm badly enough for him to wonder if they had broken his arm. he had a large, dark bruise on his inner elbow area, a cut and a lot of pain. He finally had it looked at an x rayed by a doctor, imagine that, and found out it was not broken, only damaged from a contusion and massive sprain. This is, of course, also ALL MY FAULT.  I called the cops on him the previous blackout because he broke our brand new printer and had swept our modem and part of the computer hookups onto the floor, was menacing and threatening to me inside of MY home. I called the cops that time to get them to talk to him and prove to his pickled brain I would call them if he decided to act out on his threats against me. I only wanted the cops’ presence to get him to go to bed and pass out and leave me alone.  But he could not resist the attention of the cops and stepped off the porch where they nabbed him, and took him to the drunk tank.

Morning before last he was home and up around 3 am, and attacked me verbally about an old issue which has been a bone of contention between us for forever. I had been asleep on the couch and he went after me with his worst, relentless condemnations and accusations. The lioness in me awoke, and I began roaring right back in his face at the top of my lungs. I met his unbridled hate with mine, and we were finally  a real match.  When I got dressed and left an hour later at 5 am,  I was done believing there was anything left to give a damn for. I told him what an evil bastard he has been, that I wanted him out of my life and house, and didn’t want to EVER see him again. I stayed away all day.

The kicker is that when I finally came home, he told me that I had never abandoned him during our 30 odd years together, and that now, he would not abandon me, would not leave me over a fight or an arrest.  All this time trying to be decent, not give into my hate of the abuse at his hands I’ve been taking over and over again.For awhile I wasn’t sure if I was hearing right. He’s never, ever said any of that before to me under any circumstances. I know well the danger of swimming too far down the River Styxx of rage. If you become it, stay there, you go to hell, no matter how heinous the person hating and abusing you is. I frankly have no clue why he responded in that way, even apologized for his treatment of me. I know this: no apology from him will stop him from being abusive to me later.  When I was out and about sobbing my guts out at the extreme hurt his dirty, vicious attack on me did to me, I realized that I had boarded the wrong boat in life, and then made the mistake of staying on it. I am warped, much  like he is, or I would not be where I am or have him in my life. This was a bitter realization but a true one.


About Shirley

I started this blog to expand and explore my rhythm horizons as a hand drummer. That exploration includes touching on the rest of my life and inner world as authentically and truthfully as possible.
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