The Death of a Modern Man

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.