Oh you are in so much trouble now, Mr. "The One". I am a mostly patient and understanding woman. . . Sometimes. I don't stress about financing, I don't stress about the house not being clean, I don't stress that you only work a part time job at a place where you spend more money than you make. But when I ask you to take over the paperwork because I'm violently ill and incapable of rational thought for several months and you agree to do so I expect you to do it. No, really I do. In fact I was so confident that you were doing what you told me you were doing, that you were paying the bills and keeping things balanced that I didn't worry when you bought a big screen for the computer, or when you upgraded the computer, or when you purchased DVD's and CD's that were nice but not at all necessary. I didn't worry when you purchased the gamecube. I didn't worry when you went out with your friends, I didn't even consider the money you spend eating out. I didn't worry because the bills were your responsibility and obviously you wouldn't be spending money on frivolous things before the bills were paid. I did my part and asked if there was money before I made any purchases with the checkbook. I requested permission o withdraw cash, I saved my receipts so you could account for everything.

So I got home after not seeing you for a week after not being home in over three weeks. I was sore and I was stiff but I felt great and I loved seeing you. You went off to work and I kissed you goodbye and looked forward to when you would be coming home and I cleaned the kitchen and I took the molding things out of the fridge and I organized the paperwork. . . I wasn't going to do any of it, after all it's your responsibility, but while I was going through and throwing out junk mail and putting things that need to be filed in one pile and things that need attention in another I came across bills from the time I handed the paperwork over to you, unpaid bills. And then I came across bills that had three months of previous payments missed, and then I came across notices of having out services cut off if we don't remit payment in ten days. . . And then I fumed. I feel betrayed. You could have at least told me that you weren't doing jack squat in that area, I would have done it, I would have gotten help if I had needed it, but I would have done it.

I know in the interest of credit rating I should take this responsibility away from you, call the companies, apologies profusely, and never let it happen again, but I can't. You got yourself into this and I'm not saving your ass, not this time. You have to learn. It's your mistake and if I go without internet, or garbage disposal, or even heat, and we eat nothing but pancakes made from the whole wheat I have stored in the basement for months, that's your own goddamn fault and you're going to fix it, not me.

"The Other" just signed in and the very first thought in my head was how much I missed ranting at him when I was mad or moody and how he always stoically took my verbal abuse (especially when it wasn't directed at him) and when he spoke to me, (he welcomed me home) all I could say was "fuck off, I'm in a really bad mood" which is not at all what I meant. but it felt good to tell someone to fuck off and I don't want to give him the impression that it's ok to talk. It's not. Because small one line messages lead to whole conversations and conversations lead to meeting and meeting leads to desires I can't fulfill. Desires I can't have. Because for better or worse I'm married to the idiot who didn't pay our bills but bought lots of toys and even when I''m fuming mad at "The One". He is "The One" and he's mine.

Although right now I feel like I could trade him for a hot lesbian.