A Dilettante

Once again, it is that difficult time of year; birthdays.  I hate it.  Maybe I should clarify that it is only Squeeze kid birthday’s that I hate for it provides more opportunity for the Harridan to twist those screws of torture just a little bit tighter.

Kid 3 turns fifteen today and Kid 1 had inadvertently mentioned on the weekend that they were planning on a Friday evening celebratory dinner.  Given that, the Squeeze decided to put a call in to the Harridan last night and ask if we could call past tonight, grab the kid and take him for dinner before dropping him home again.

Even as he raised the phone to his ear, it was obvious that he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting the kid on his birthday.  It didn’t matter what was going on; he wasn’t getting him.  After a short and sharp conversation, he hung up mentioning that the Harridan was awaiting Kid 2 confirmation about a dinner tonight and she would let him know when that eventuated.

It seemed unlikely that there would be two dinners so I suggested the Squeeze shoot off an email to Kid 2 and ask what was going on; the reply basically came in the form of “wtf..?”  In other words, there was no dinner organised for tonight; she was just being her.

Fine by me; I’m dieting because there are six pairs of bathers in my beach bag; none of which I will be able to squeeze my ass into for Greece – unless I get drastic.  Let me tell you; I’ve been sticking to the diet like glue and have managed to lose 5.1 kilos in 3.5 weeks.  A start yes… I could probably fit into most of them now, but I’d still look a shocker!  So dinners out are not easy; no alcohol is killing me and I positively couldn’t do it if I was out some place; let alone that vampire sitting opposite me!

Then, this morning… The shoe fell.  The bell of fate and doom rang.

I received a single sentenced email from the Squeeze suggesting that Kid 3 was concerned about the “under the surface” tension and that we should all go to dinner to celebrate his birthday; that given the circumstances we should be able to suck it up for a couple of hours as the kid wanted me to be there.

Roll me over and call me the freaking Brady Bunch – except there are no happy blended families here.  What he meant of course, was that “I” should suck it up… There was no “we”.

With that one sentence, my stomach churned; I actually felt the moment my headache crouched and crawled forward so I replied and said “not a chance in hell… sorry.”

Then he made the sublimely stupid mistake of replying and attempting to manipulate me.  I should probably mention at this point that the Squeeze is a manipulation dilettante…  He is an amateur; an apprentice!   All he ended up doing was insulting me (dumb arse) which certainly didn’t inspire me to “suck it up” any more, that’s for sure.

Okay, I’m not great at manipulation either…  I’m too candid and just say it like it is rather than cajole, which is why I don’t attempt it.  I suggested that perhaps he should take a leaf and bypass the art of manipulation also.  The Harridan is playing games; she is an expert in it.   And he may wish to just prance down the road towards it like a lamb to the slaughter; but I have no desire to play.

Maybe he should spend a moment to look at the facts…

1. The kid seriously couldn’t give a rat’s arse if I was there or not.  Due to the Harridan’s obvious condemnation of me, his children would ignore me out of some misguided sense of loyalty to their mother.  He knows this is true, yet seem incapable of accepting it.

2. Where is the “under the surface tension”..?   On what planet within his mind does he exist..?   It is not “under the surface”; there is nothing hidden about it; it is screaming on the edge of a cliff, in your face tension!   And given that it is “in your face tension”, I seriously doubt that parading a lie to the kid would ease anything; he is not retarded so why would a couple of hours over dinner give him a rosy glow and let him think that mummy and daddy are best friends; we are all one big happy family?

It’s all good in theory, but I suspect we will have to live like the rest of the divorced population - where we “suck it up” to go to 21st’s and Weddings.