I don’t know if hate is really the word I am looking for, but it’s damn close if it isn’t.
Let’s see here…he literally drank every day this week except Thursday. I think he didn’t drink Thursday because I was off. He’s drinking more than normal lately. A 6-pack of tall boys in the morning and a twelve in the afternoon when I get home. So that’s like $25 per day minimum.
Today I worked, had a decent day on the job and when I get off work, I usually call him. Well, no surprise to me, he was drunk. I was instructed to come home and help him out. I obeyed but in the meantime I made plans with a friend. When I picked him up to go to the store he had that evil, maenacing tone in his voice that scared me. I went out and came home a little while ago to nothing but smoke and loud music that I could hear out in the hallway. He was fucking living it up in here on my dime. I was yelled at because he saw a young mother with 2 little kids this week and both kids were wearing Air Jordans. This somehow symbolizes all of the problems in his universe. Then I was interrogated as to why I hadn’t ordered him a new computer yet. (We had discussed ordering it for his job but he’s been drinking so much it scared me to make that commitment.) While he yammered on all I could think to myself was how much I hated him and that I wish his heart would seize up or something during the night.
Yeah I really really hate him. Why haven’t I started the divorce process? I don’t know, but I haven’t lost sight of it yet.
The Alcoholic Marriage 