We (Don't) Need to Talk: Volume 2

By Kim Lawson

A secret of having a successful relationship is to be in one with a man who wants to be in one, for a start!' So Pam had discovered after wasting nearly 20 years with those who hadn't deserved her affection or her time. But she hadn't known what to look for in a partner, or even that she had to look for anything. Due to her own ignorance and stupidity, she hadn't known what should be tolerated in a relationship or that she should be treated with respect. Then there'd been her mother's ongoing aggravating presence to contend with...

In 'We (Don't) Need to Talk' Volumes 1 and 2, Pam describes bouncing from one upsetting relationship to another as well as her mother's contribution to her state of confusion. And she asks herself why, throughout her life, she has never thought of herself as being deserving of anyone who was her equal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Legend Press
• Release date: Nov 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781785076602

Book preview

Chapter 23

What a disgraceful way, more so than ever before, for me to behave. Was I really only unable to hurt anyone? Or was I a coward and very selfish? Either way, why was I so? But I was back with Bruce, the man I loved, and the following day, off I went to the Langhorne with him, in a car he’d hired that morning. I could run away from everyone and with a few days to monopolise him into the bargain! After my appointment another day later, we were ready to move on, but before leaving the hotel the last thing I did was to give Nigel a call. And sure in the knowledge he’d neither ask me nor want me to visit him before I returned home, I was able to tell him, I’m still in Sevenoaks, but leaving now. By 1993 I’d become as much as disgusted by both his fear of meeting me and the fact that phone games were all he seemed to good for. But I did live dangerously, because my call did cause Bruce some consternation, and even though I only talked of my meeting with my doctor. Although he was used to my long conversations with my long-distance pals at home, he was not accustomed to me making a special effort and taking the time out to use a public phone away from it to speak to one of them.

I asked him if we could go to Canterbury of all places; it is a spiritual place and one to go to for those of us who are also spiritual (and so a place no use to him), but it’s interesting that I could ask him to go anywhere else at all! I’d never been; and it was for there we set off that morning. He would put up with the sightseeing with me as he put up with everything else, never actually complaining (well that would mean ‘talking’) yet appearing as if it was something that just had to be done and accepting the fact. My time out of our hotel room was limited each day anyway (my course of treatment having made no difference to me in the long term) so we still had plenty of time for bed. And he’d missed me.

After two nights there Bruce told me that he once knew some men with a boat in nearby Ramsgate, and I persuaded him we should go there to see them while we were so near. We’d done what I wanted, so surely that would cheer him up and be enjoyable for him! And because I’d be there too, I’d prove that my company needn’t prevent him from having a good time around mates! He found them easily, but even though I made a point of keeping my distance, he was quite inhibited during the meeting, and although he’d talked while I was taking pictures of boats, we left very quickly. For their part, the men greeted him and spoke as if they’d seen him only the day before! Interesting that nothing had changed for them in the years since they’d met.

I then asked Bruce if we could stay away an extra night so as not to make the whole return journey home at once, and he supposed (reluctantly) that we could; on which I rang the car hire firm to tell them we’d need the car an extra day. We began to head back, but we only got as far as Rochester before I suggested stopping and booking into a pub in the centre. I hoped this would make him comfortable; but no, having a drink in the bar there with me was of no use whatsoever, and the next day he was relieved to be going home, at the same time refusing to be persuaded by me into staying away yet another night. Suffering withdrawal from mates and worrying if his boat was okay outweighed any more need of me being available on demand; for that’d been satisfied before Rochester and after only two days and nights with me.

I supposed it’d only been the self inflicted time apart from me in my flat of late, which had swayed Bruce into going away with me in the first place; then, his unsatisfied need for me had overridden his need for everything else. But as usual I’d translated his missing my body as missing (and wanting) me for myself too. The break did make him want me more than he had done for months though and it brought us closer together again, meaning no sooner had we got home than he happily came back to my flat to ‘live’ with me! He no longer had any wish to stay at his flat and he was coming home to me each evening contented! It never occurred to me then that he might be avoiding somebody, that he might be in hiding again, hence his reason for also going away so suddenly, or that he’d been unlucky in love elsewhere during his time out that summer. Perhaps I’d told him of my impending trip just as a budding relationship had looked doomed or just as a recent sexual encounter had been a failure.

I’d been back home less than a week when I phoned Jack, meeting up with him two days later and again a week after that, both times in public places. As usual I tried to disentangle and distance myself from him without actually explaining the situation, and as was the norm, he didn’t push for it. Well that would’ve meant asking me a question! It didn’t occur to me that he might’ve already known that I was seeing or even living with Bruce; but if he did, and with nothing to lose, he was certainly not gonna let me go easily. I was ‘back’ with Bruce properly, but once again I’d ‘forgotten’ to tell the one before; the one it would concern. Not because I was protecting myself from possibly losing him again but for one of the elusive reasons mentioned earlier.

So by my doing the situation was left in mid air for Jack and madness continued to reign. Really though, he should’ve just asked me if I didn’t want to see him again; but that wouldn’t be on would it! Another week later on the Saturday afternoon I asked Bruce if he’d go to Cath’s; her window handle had broken, and since Todd was no use at DIY, it’d been left unusable. He went, but by the early evening and long after Todd had arrived there for the night, he still hadn’t returned. By 8 o’clock he was still working on it; and ignoring once again the deafening alarm bells inside my head, I figured this was because his silent, mild mannered, persevering way didn’t allow him to say how difficult the job was to do. Both Cath and Todd must have felt very uncomfortable at him still being there, I was annoyed about him being there so long too, especially with it being a Saturday, and I told him so on the phone. It was Cath’s time with Todd and my slot once again with him after all. But those bells; they were playing He wants his space on a Saturday night so he doesn’t want to come back to you; you’ve forgotten that!

It was lucky for me that he had worked on though. When I came off the phone I’d opened a front window of the flat and I’d leant out of it looking along the street. And I’d seen Jack lurking in the dark on the corner of the main road where he could see both the flat windows and the door at the side, but from a distance far enough away that he shouldn’t be seen. Unless that is, anyone was leaning out of a window! He’d have seen me too, and on my own. After that, he must have given up on seeing anyone with me, because when I looked out again later, he’d scarpered. This meant he hadn’t seen Bruce return at 9 pm and his vigil had been for nothing. I believe that when married, suspecting his wife was cheating on him he’d followed her out on the night he’d seen her with another man, and he hadn’t just happened to be in the pub where she was, like he’d told me. Spying on me was the method of choice for finding me out too, rather than asking me the score; again that would mean making me choose; and why should he do that? None of them had ever wanted to risk doing that!

Later that same week Bruce went into the centre of town with me to buy a tin of paint (he was going to paint a wall in my kitchen for me!) and we’d just come out of a shop when I suddenly saw Jack out of the corner of my eye, some yards along the street. He was walking towards us although not looking at me; but then, after approaching, he continued on past us, still without any acknowledgement of me or glance in my direction! And he’d been going at such a pace there’d been no necessity for me to speak to him, thankfully; he’d let me off! How strange. Not to comprehend, I fear I’ve led a sheltered life, but what was going on? He knew what he was doing and he was as dysfunctional as me! It was unlikely he’d have been there then so he’d surely seen us leave the flat and had followed us there. Or perhaps (although unlikely) he’d seen my car parked nearby. Either way, ensuring I saw him was his way of communicating that he knew about Bruce! Not a word spoken! What a humiliating thing to do.

I was gobsmacked but I needn’t feel uneasy any longer about his not knowing the score; I was off the hook and needn’t have further contact!

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It was only a few days after that when my mother asked me if I wanted to buy her and Bert’s little house! I’d had a note from her and she was in turmoil. She and Bert lived then in a small house not far from my flat in the direction of The Swan, but they’d been offered sheltered accommodation near to the harbour, and to Bruce’s obvious and expected consternation, in a building which overlooked his flat! For he’d immediately realised that if they took it, I’d have a valid reason to go into his domain and maybe ‘spy’ on him during his slot or at any time in the future! He said nothing of course, but what did his apprehension say about where he really was with me then? My mother didn’t know what to do; they’d been married 14 years and they’d already owned seven homes in that time, moving nearer and nearer to me with each purchase. She assumed the cure for unhappiness and discontentment was to move house rather than to seek the cause of it within oneself you see.

She’d decided that she didn’t really want to take the offer up but that she ought to at least try the place; hence the turmoil. Like me, she could never see that the right decision was often the instinctive one, in this case to stay put, and she’d always had to try and do what might improve her lot, making things difficult for herself in the process. ‘Pamela, I think we had better go and try it there as I would always be wondering if we didn’t go,’ the note had read, ‘I’m writing this note as Bruce is always at yours.’ I felt her anguish by just reading it; her dilemma would only be solved by them going. Having still had no luck with buying, and knowing the area was a popular place to live, mine would be solved by taking up her offer to me, which I did.

The sale was quickly set into motion, but it was during the November, after Bruce and I had been in the house and they’d been in their accommodation for only two weeks, when my mother told me she already wanted to come back ‘home.’ I don’t like it there, it’s all old people, there’s always somebody dying, and it’s too far from any shops, she said. As it happened however, Di had literally just told me that her brother was selling his house which was already empty, and she’d asked me if I wanted to buy it! And it was only 50 yards from where we were; same street on the opposite side! So I said I did, and Bruce and I went to see it; after all, we lived together and it’d be his home too if I bought it. Do you want to think about it or see it again? Di’s sister-in-law had asked me during our visit there. No! had been my instant reply; and survey reports were begun. Even though it needed modernising I’d have to borrow to own both, but it was either that or go back to live in the flat which I still had too.

It was then Bruce offered to help me. I’d need to get a small mortgage for it (I’d used the proceeds of the sale of my marital home to buy the other one), but the small amount he’d by then got from his ex-wife for his house was available, and he’d let me have that! That was commitment; and it meant I’d (or we’d) still be able to live in a home of my (or our) own. What on earth had changed him so much during our time apart!

The sale of the first one went through on 8th December, and so it came to be, by the end of that month I was in the process of owning two small homes. Bruce refused to be involved with the mortgage or to have part ownership of the house though, so, like my flat, both houses would be in my name only. He’d proved he was serious about me, had given me everything; and we were to have a new home together! It made sense to stay where we were (rather than go back to the flat) while the extensive work needed on the second one was being carried out, it was easier to supervise that from there, although that did also mean my mother having to wait a while to come back ‘home.’ We’d only just got organised too, although I hadn’t needed all my belongings taken from the flat, no furnishings or gadgets at all, just some clothes and personal stuff.

I’d been very lucky that Di had given me first refusal, and for such a cheap house too; for going back to live in my flat would’ve seemed like such a let down. And I was sure I couldn’t have afforded any other place that might come up for sale in the area then.

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So my future was sorted. Bruce was content, he’d finally discovered that we had the best, and I had my man at last. He’d given me a beautiful birthday present that November too, a heavy gold pendant which he’d had engraved. I’d never been given anything so valuable. He didn’t stay at his flat at all either; even when Emma wanted her friends to stay over with her when her mother was busy and she’d asked her dad, rather than suggest they all go to his flat, he arranged they come and stay overnight with us at my flat. But did he think it wrong to have them at his because he’d committed to his home being with me, or only because it was better to have a woman around while he was with all the girls? It never crossed my mind that he might still be avoiding someone at his. We had to move from the house into my flat then for the night of course but it wasn’t a problem, I’d left it habitable. Even my bed hadn’t been needed at the house; I’d been given another one to use there.

To me we were a family then, proved when Bruce agreed to come along with me to the school presentation night when Peter was to receive an award. When we arrived, quite early, the hall was nearly empty, but who should be already there, sitting near the front of it, were Steve and Gail. I automatically steered us towards the back and we took seats some distance directly behind them, but they must have seen us go in because even amongst a room of empty chairs they turned their heads around for a look at us several times, turning back laughing and commenting to each other each time. What ignorance! And I could practically read Steve’s lips; she’s got another one now, look at this one, and how long will he last? They were acting like two 12 year olds waiting for assembly and I’d have been ashamed to tell Bruce who they were; if he’d been the type to ask. Yes, Steve found me amusing, and I obviously had a reputation with them both.

The community group had arranged a social that Christmas. It was Victorian dress and I’d been lent part of a costume so I felt obliged to go to it. I asked Bruce if he wanted to go with me, and bring the kids; and he said he did, and they’d come too! Emma was especially interested in it and I made an effort for her, wore all the garb, jewellery, shawl, and I put a bun in my hair. Michael was there and noted my company I’m sure; another man, two kids and one a girl! ‘That won’t last’ I suppose he thought.

He said not one word to me that night however, nor did he attempt to talk to Bruce. Bruce wouldn’t have engaged in conversation as anyone else would and he wasn’t approachable anyway, but it wasn’t just that; appearing to be a proper family group we might also have appeared to be invincible. I’d gone public with my man again and this time I wasn’t embarrassed by him. I dreamt though of that man being a sociable man who’d involve himself in the company, not one who appeared to find interaction difficult. There was a raffle of 50 prizes that night and the only children there were Glen and Emma, but they won not one. Trouble was, I saw Michael go and collect about six of them. He was too self absorbed to be embarrassed by this naturally, but since the group often complained that not enough children went to meetings I was quite angry. I did still say bye to him when we left; albeit politely and with neither of us making any attempt at conversation then either.

I remembered he’d told me some time before that he’d made another attempt to be with a woman, one I’d seen at the weekly social; however, she was even younger than me and she’d rejected anything other than friendship with him. When I’d later told him I’d seen a photo and an article in the local paper concerning her, he’d asked me to send it to him, and the fact I’d had no jealousy or any of my old possessiveness towards him must have been a blow for him. Had he not always been unwavering in the certainty that he was always right where my faults were concerned, he may’ve stopped to ask himself if he’d been wrong about me.

Christmas day turned out the same as the one before, my family coming to ‘us’ for the afternoon, but then on Boxing Day that year I went to Bruce’s parents with him and the kids. And how important was it for me to feel I belonged! To be part of their family! Not only was I elated, I was complete! On New Year’s Eve we were with Cath and Todd again, but this time in The Mirage. How imaginative. And as usual I carried on with my quest for ways of keeping Bruce happy and comfortable throughout, although failing in this I feared. For I just couldn’t tell if he was enjoying his night or not!

The early months of 1994 saw us going either between the house and flat, which was then unoccupied unless Peter was there with friends, or in the opposite direction between the house and the ‘new’ one (which I’d owned since the January) where builders were making steady progress. Luckily I felt relatively well, as I was also involved with hospital visits with my dad then and I would be all that year. When I was asked that spring to go to the first local astronomical meeting, I went there too; with Bruce unfortunately. For he was bored, or looked to be, wouldn’t speak to anyone, and I wasn’t just embarrassed about him, I was ashamed of him. Like with Canterbury, duck (or rather man with boat) out of water comes to mind, but at least he could see the sort of thing I got up to and so he’d surely be reassured and set an example by it. But being reassuring? Setting an example? Ugh? Having to do that couldn’t have been good for me. Like when I’d taken him to the lighting of a beacon on our local beach, say? Or like the times I’d taken Stuart to a band march of Peter’s, to a Christmas Eve church service, and to an Armistice Day service? Why, once I’d even taken him to a meeting of a scientific society I was involved with! What luck for him!

During one week Keith was up from London to stay at his parents,’ and one afternoon during it he called with Darren to see me. We said nothing of our failed hotel rendezvous however and so embarrassment was spared, but I did feel our eight year age gap more than ever then. I’d got glasses for reading and I was self-conscious about wearing them; a legacy I’d got from Bruce I suppose, since glasses were something else he’d never wear for fear of drawing attention to himself and becoming the butt of ridicule!

Living in my mother’s house seemed to have a beneficial effect on me, I was generally much brighter and stronger than I’d been for a long time, and there was no sign this run would end. So by the end of March and when it was the time for the community AGM and for me to fulfil my role as treasurer and more, I managed okay. Michael and I were polite to each other and we made small talk, although with a formality he’d had with me of late. He’d had health worries himself that winter, had convinced himself that a pain he’d had in his throat had been down to cancer, and he’d been quite dramatic about it; something else which had made me see him in a new light and had made him look quite foolish, especially when the final diagnosis had been ‘tension.’ So gradually he’d become just another ‘person’ to me, my superior no longer. Yes, love and lust are truly blind.

I was able to organise work on the house, and it sometimes went on until 7 or 8 p.m.; because new floors, taking out a wall, damp proofing and plastering, were all necessary. Bruce was often asleep then but he did a lot at other times, not even staying ‘at work’ as long as before! When he wasn’t busy during his slot he’d come back to do a ‘job or two on the house’; and so he was with me more hours of the day! Over time, he helped one friend who he’d asked to put a bathroom suite and radiators in, and another, to open up the loft and put in stairs, and to brick up a wall! Working alone, he eventually fitted a door where there’d only previously been a brick wall; and he fitted kitchen cupboards and stripped all the walls of wallpaper!

It was April when the place became habitable and when we were able to move in; and also when my mother and Bert were able to move back into their house (this would be their last move!). And this was the home Paul was to find me still in when he’d meet me in 2001. In April 1994 though, the place still had no hot water; but Bruce and I would cope, we could both rough it. He began work on the loft in his spare time then, converting it into a bedroom for us, and one day when Emma called after school at the very time a builder’s delivery arrived, he wasn’t even annoyed he had to neglect her; just got on with the business while I sorted her until he was free. Our home and domestic set up were a mess and it was to be months before we did have hot water, but none of that mattered, I was happy and Bruce seemed settled. And remembering that Stuart had let me down over us getting a joint home, only made me feel all the more relieved and secure then. If he had followed my life until then, he’d have been gutted and so angry with himself that it wasn’t him I’d set up home with; well sometimes perhaps.

Only a few months later, my attitude, that of pretending to myself that all was well, had collapsed, and I’d had to ask Bruce if he’d come to Relate with me! Of course, he’d said, that was all, in his usual ‘I’m a reasonable kind of guy’ fashion. But if he’d asked me why, been angry, shocked, or had said absolutely anything else or had wanted to talk, we wouldn’t have been in need of Relate in the first place! No, this was why we were, and although we had our home, I was still very much alone! As well as being fair minded and capable of practical tasks, a man needs to be capable of being emotionally intimate, even if it’s only to a minute degree. And I’d heard of sulkers, non communicative men, being made to sit down and talk, which had made everything fine. I wasn’t asking to be treated like a Queen.

Did I want too much? From him, yes. By that summer I’d wanted him to start to behave as if he was happy being with me and for him to see that he needed to. He was still shutting me out of everything and sharing nothing, except when he was in bed with me. He’d even begun to appear as if he wanted his freedom again; I was his jailor and he wanted out. It’d been my idea to go out with him one evening to a pub not far from the harbour, but his best mates (Ray included) had been in there and I’d been made to feel very unwelcome; I’d been intimidated even. When he’d taken me to Sevenoaks, had he told them I’d forced him to? To save face with them, had he said that he only needed my body? My time in that pub with them, together with him appearing as if he hadn’t wanted to go there with me in the first place (no wonder), had caused me to have a dream a few nights later. In it, I was in a pub amongst Bruce, Ray and some others, but I was the only one who was naked. I was very embarrassed and ashamed although I couldn’t leave, and so I just tried to hide part of my body by sitting at a table. This dream told me not only how vulnerable I really felt, it demonstrated that Bruce never encouraged any respect of me from any of his friends.

I was much too sensitive; but again, I wasn’t the only dysfunctional one. And I believed that I was much unhappier than I’d ever been before.

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I knew that I must often be a source of amusement in the harbour pubs, that I’d be used to wind Bruce up (being the shrew or the dragon he had at home), so I tried to prove still, and naively, that I could fit in. I just wanted him to share something, any one thing. His father would pay him weekly visits; trouble was, they were always only on a Saturday morning during his ‘work’ slot, so I was excluded from those too. On one of those Saturday mornings however, Bruce hadn’t got to the harbour, he’d overslept, and his father hadn’t found him there. He’d arrived at the house at noon to find me on my own and to be told, to his disbelief, that Bruce was still asleep! Talk about extremes! During our conversation Bruce had woken and he must have heard us talking. He’d got dressed, and then he’d come into the room, silently but visibly fuming at himself. He hadn’t been ‘with it,’ he must have forced himself fully awake when he’d heard our voices, so he hadn’t been in the mood for speaking and his dad’s visit had been kept short. That day though, our home hadn’t been just a hotel; for that one brief visit from his accidental visitor had made me feel included in his life.

One evening, after I’d been out with the community group walking around the harbour and after the rest of the group had left for home, I’d stayed there, going into the boating club where Bruce’s mate Norm, who I’d seen once before, worked. My companions of the community group longed to go home at 9p.m after any meeting, whereas my ongoing loneliness and desperate need to belong and be part of things meant that I never wanted any outing to end. I rang Bruce immediately I went inside, as I knew I must (for I’d realised that he must be at the house then) and I told him where I was and where I’d been. Do you want to come back down here for a drink? I asked him. Yes, I’ll come, he said very unenthusiastically, seeming just obliged to find out who else was in there with me. I’d only said ‘hello’ to Norm, who’d appeared not to want to engage in conversation with me although the place was empty. And this was typical; if I attempted to be sociable or wanted company, my surroundings worked against me. But what if the group walk had taken place on an evening when Bruce was already in there? That didn’t bear thinking about! I’d have ruined his party.

He came in only a few minutes later looking worried, embarrassed by my very presence there no doubt, to find no one with me; and our rendezvous was strained. Even only Norm seeing us was enough to make it so for him. So I regretted not having rang him instead to say that I’d be going straight home. I’m in the clubhouse, been walking around, but it’s empty here. I’ll be home in a tick; would’ve been a much more suitable thing to tell him during my slot.

What really upset me was that soon afterwards, Bruce came home one evening to tell me he’d spent the afternoon in the clubhouse having a drink or four with Ray, Ray’s new girlfriend, Norm, and his partner! I’d already known that he was going to ‘socialise’ that day, that’s why he’d mentioned it when he came home, but I’d assumed it’d only involve man talk as always. I was stunned. He knew I’d be sitting at home alone and that I wanted to meet his friends’ partners, so he could’ve rang me to ask me to join them. I’d have been overjoyed; but no, why would he? If he had, again we wouldn’t have had the ongoing problems we did. And my being treated like a leper was a major one.

I’d certainly developed a complex. A lot of women are used by their men as company to go out when mates are busy, or to even up the numbers when mates have partners with them; but Bruce couldn’t do either, would rather be alone amongst couples, and on any occasion. That’s what hurt me. Even Stuart had enjoyed himself when he’d been out with me, whether we’d been alone or with his mates; he’d never made me feel like he’d had his grandmother forced on him. And this had been my guide to knowing Bruce’s way was wrong. It was quite pathetic that it was my only one, but at least it led me to involve Relate in my life.

Going there would be my answer and it’d teach Bruce to see my side of things, so at 5p.m. when he could finish working, one day each week for six weeks, off to the town centre we’d go, to sit with a counsellor in a small room for an hour. But the poor woman was used to dealing with problems in the bedroom I reckon, and those were the only ones we didn’t have! Seven years later I was to discover that Paul had major issues, but at least he wasn’t to treat his woman as if she was a hag, a shrew, and a leper all rolled into one. Bruce’s wife had written that being with him had been purgatory; well I’d discovered that too, it’d made me miserable; so, a wife does always know the husband best! For her though, the physical side had been no good either, and so she’d had no reason to try and save her relationship with him like I surely had.

Each week the woman got us, well me, to talk about our difficulties and she asked us questions concerning how we felt on our ‘issues’. Bruce only answered if he had to, if she’d aimed the question at him particularly and waited for him to reply. Although he complied passively as he always did when he was faced with a situation he didn’t want to be in, and he didn’t mind in the least paying the £5 that each session cost, it soon became obvious that they weren’t going to help us. After each one, I made notes for myself about what’d been said (practically all by me) and even what hadn’t; stuff that’d gone on between us during the previous months and which was going around in my head, stuff that I could maybe talk about at the next one too. At the end of our course, reading the accumulated pages to myself didn’t make me optimistic about our future together:

‘I don’t want us to split up,’ I’d written. ‘We’ve set up home together; I’ve had other broken relationships and don’t want any more. He is abnormally complacent, in a self-satisfied unconcerned kind of way, doesn’t communicate, I’m not getting what I need emotionally and I’m lonely. He makes no comment about how I look and has no interest in where I go. He doesn’t express any opinions or ask me questions, never gives me compliments, never asks me to go anywhere, and doesn’t want to be seen with me. He says there’s nowhere he wants to go and he doesn’t ever want a holiday. If I’ve to take another one on my own this year it’ll be the end. There’s been times when he’s seen faraway places, in papers or on TV maybe, and said it looked interesting, maybe off his guard, but when I’ve responded with let’s go then, he’s pulled the place to pieces. It’s inaccessible, or it’s not practical he’s then remarked. He’s had a break from me each year and I don’t want anyone who needs a break from me, it’s destroying. If he’s out with me he’s subdued or bored, whereas when he’s out with mates he’s in his element. My self-respect is now non existent. Work and all that involves is everything to him, he comes home to sleep mostly from about 7p.m. through until the following morning now, unless he’s going out with a pal or few.

He’s always very obliging however. If I ask him for help on an errand he’ll usually accompany me as a chauffeur or bag carrier, although shows no interest in where we are or in what I’m doing during it. In the time I’ve known him he’s asked to see me only once, our first date, apart from when he’s wanted to come back to me after leaving me.

Bruce’s response to this last comment, when he’d been pressed to make one, had been that he would like to go out all the time but he didn’t because he would rather be with me sometimes! Just my point!

If he ever has to miss a day going to the harbour, he’s ratty. He’s been very busy doing the house up and says I should be grateful (which I am) and that that should be enough for me. He’d responded that I shouldn’t need to be asked anywhere, whether for half an hour or for a holiday; I’m too demanding, am never satisfied and will always want more. He’d said to the counsellor, I shouldn’t need to convey my feelings at all; she should know what they are. Wow, that’d been his longest ever monologue. ‘If I’m upset,’ I’d continued, ‘no matter what about, he remains mute and never tries to console me.

He said it was pointless going to the sessions, there was nothing he needed to put right since I’m the one with the problem and that he doesn’t see a problem and is alright. She wants an excuse to be out of the relationship so has come here he’d said in the actual session. Our host was taken aback by that remark.

I often begrudge taking him out with my friends now since he won’t share his world with me.

We spoke of how I’d begun to be always waiting for him, how I’d stopped pleasing myself each day like I would if I lived alone, because I had someone else to consider and to come home to me at mealtimes. Whereas, he doesn’t even phone me to tell me if he’s staying out, whether he knows if I’m home or not; that lets him keep his options open after work. If he phoned I might say he was needed, so he doesn’t risk it, or the fact I might not be out in the first place. An example of how he behaves as if he was living in a hotel.

When he left me last summer, I left my Cinderella existence with him and I was able to be taken out, no more waiting to see if he’d turn up, and it was strange being in the company of a man who wanted mine. The August bank holiday fell during that time and being alone meant I was able to accept when one of my male friends offered to take me out for a drive. None will when I have a man though, they just disappear. My female friends are occupied at weekends and I don’t have any family of my own generation, something which would put most women in dire straits often. The May bank holiday last year was an exception, I had a friend who was free and I was able to drive that day and visit her, so I was lucky. I’m upset about the next one looming now yet I would accept spending them all alone if Bruce wanted to do something with me another time instead, on another day, one when he could be free. After working fourteen or fifteen hours on some days then only working four or five on others, he tells me that his shorter day isn’t out of choice! So making me feel more like his landlady than his partner!

When we must come out together, like here for instance, he wants to get back home again as fast as he can. I’m at home so much that, if I can, I like to stay out a while. After our visit here last week I nearly had a seizure. In silence he’d automatically made to drive me straight home but I’d asked to go for a drink and said I was thirsty. Where do you want to go? he’d snarled. Anywhere I’d answered. Where? Anywhere I don’t get to usually I’d replied. Well I don’t know where you want to go! Oh I don’t mind. Well, if you can’t say, I don’t know anywhere! He was getting more and more irritated and I got out of my car practically in tears. There was silence again until I calmed and got back in and said, there’s a pub just around the corner. We drove around and when he saw it he snapped it’s rough in there mind! We got a drink and sat down; and I tried making conversation three times. If I asked a question, he didn’t know the answer, and then there was silence each time. I couldn’t put myself through any more so asked to go home then. I’d only wanted to stay out long enough for one drink anyway. We stopped for a takeaway, got home and ate, and then had a rest.

It was a Friday but I didn’t feel like seeing my friends then, I was too upset, although I should be used to it being like that. It doesn’t seem right to be only going out with them week after week when I’ve done nothing with Bruce in between times, maybe for months at a time. Anyway, he’d arranged to meet Lenny at 8, so after we ate I told him I was staying put. I felt ill, tried to watch TV but was too angry; even coming here had CAUSED a problem; why couldn’t he just have told me he didn’t want to be late to meet him! I’d only wanted one pleasant drink out with him and then I could’ve met my friends later too! I was still angry the following morning; ‘my friends’ men don’t avoid them if it isn’t their slot’, I said to myself; and they’re not just doing their women a favour by being there or because they have to be.

On Sunday morning he was annoyed that he hadn’t left to do his jobs at the harbour before I’d woken up, for he likes to go before I’m awake. I asked him if I could go with him, and being aware that that might happen I suppose, no wonder he was annoyed. It’d be pointless him going into the pub afterwards with me in tow. He didn’t look happy about it but I went anyway, I wasn’t in his way while he was busy and he survived the experience, although I suppose that taught him nothing and so will make no difference. If only I’d announced that I was going home before he’d finished what he was doing. He could’ve gone to the pub then! But it hadn’t occurred to me to at the time.

I’d always wanted to see ‘Cats’ the musical and when I saw it advertised locally a few months ago I asked if we could go. Yes, alright, he was reasonable again. It was a Saturday, not even a Friday, but after the show when I asked if we could stay out for a meal, he got so stressed out and angry looking for somewhere, it was obvious he didn’t want to; so then I didn’t either. It means a lot to me to do that when I can, it’s a treat, but maybe he wanted to save himself for the Sunday in the pub. And again; there’s him