Living with a Passive Aggressive Man

I can just never tell how things are going to be, and that's the unsettling path of life with a passive aggressive. They keep you on the edge of your seat, wrong footed and confused.

I liked having the house to myself, and was not looking forward to his return. Mostly because the last time he was away he was really odd when he came back. This time though he was wonderful, although he did not kiss me on his return, and we were a little abrasive during the evening, (he got back at 8.30pm) he was affectionate, stroking, touching and cuddling when we went to bed, which is extremely unusual for him.

I intend to make the most of it, as this is all I've ever wanted, physical affection and attention. He kissed me when I got back in from work yesterday. I can't begin to say how pleasant it is, but at the same time, after 20 years I'm unable to completely trust it, and walking on eggshells, waiting for the rug to be pulled from underneath me.

In my previous post I said how I'd enjoyed not making the bed, but he was coming back and I started to feel anxious about what hadn't been done, so on the Friday I cleaned all the bathrooms, our bedroom, vacuumed upstairs and down, and sorted out the laundry cupboard (something I'd been wanting to do for a while). I was going to leave the tablecloth, but knew if I missed something it would be the one thing he'd comment on, so I changed it, and the house looked and smelled good when he got back. After general greetings and " how was your journey" etc, he had gone to put something in the bin, "does no one else know how to empty this bin then?" He was away for 5 days, he knew damned well the bin must have been emptied while he was away, but because it was almost full he had to comment on it, not how nice the house was looking, how he liked those sheets on the bed or any other positive thing.

This morning, when I came down, he said, "you must be really glad I'm back".

This because

• he comes downstairs first - if I go into the bathroom first he knocks on the door, asks me to hurry up, tells me he's going to be late, etc. So I wait and let him get up first so there isn't aggro in the mornings
• he makes my coffee - our kitchen is small and if I need anything I get in his way and he makes sure I know it
• he makes lunch for him and my daughter - I used to make the lunches and I liked to do it, when I made theirs I also made mine which meant I was much better organsised at lunchtime, but he wouldn't let me get on with it, he'd hang around, suggesting I cut the tomatoes a different way or placed them in the box differently.

A perfect example of how in a relationship with a passive aggressive you are always in a no-win situation. If I get up first I hog the bathroom, if I get up last I'm lazy. When I make him lunch it's not right, when I don't it's because I don't care about him.

There was more obvious passive aggression last night. I have a very hard day on a Monday and I'm always tired Monday evening. When we were planning the meals I said I'd make something easy for Monday night, but he had wanted to have turkey and orange salad, it's something he makes and it's very good, I was pleased as it meant I wouldn't have to cook at all on the Monday evening. When I got in, I made a cup of tea and went to catch up with some TV, a few minutes later he came in and set up the ironing board. I used to do all the ironing, I never minded it really and would do it in front of the TV. I can't even remember how he took it on, (since he has started doing it, he says the shirts are ironed much better than when I did them). What a racket he made, I've noticed this is how he expresses anger, I hate jangly, clattering noises and if he's angry there are lots of those.

I'm supposed to know (ESP) what he's angry about, I have to guess it's because

• he thought I should have done his ironing when he was away.
• he thought I should have done his ironing last night.
• he thought he shouldn't have to iron his clothes and make the dinner.

He was OK ish when we went to bed. If I thought it would make him happy, I'd iron, make dinner, empty the bins and anything else, but I've been there/done that and there's always something that I haven't done....

Categories: Relationship, Sex

It's so lovely at home. My other half is away for a week (well 5 days) on a training course. I feel the spring breeze blowing through the house. It is so calm, pleasant and stress free it's like a cloud has been lifted.

He always thinks I don't like it when he has to be away from home and 10 years or more ago maybe that was the case, but this time I was so pleased when I heard the news I could barely contain myself, as his course is very close to family he is staying with his sister and the look on his face when I suggested he stay the weekend as well as he hasn't seen them all in years.

He called me last night, which is pretty unusual, and something I used to complain about. He'd go away, not call to say he'd arrived, or make any contact the whole time he was gone. He asked how it was going, I was straight up with him, said how chilled it was, how nice it was to be able to leave my shoes were I liked and the bed unmade if I felt like it. He wasn't happy about that and reminded me that when we were apart I always kept my house tidy, and mostly I did, but the thing was it was up to me, no-one was going to start banging things around if I didn't put my shoes in the cupboard.

He has this opinion that without him around, our daughter won't get to school on time, we'll eat take-outs all week, and that the plants won'tt be watered, that in fact without him around the place descends into a complete shambles. Although he does not say this in so many words he makes it crystal clear that he thinks I'm a wreck when he's away.

In my opinion nothing could be further from the truth, when there is only me to rely on then getting everything done is so much easier. Last night I made Covent Gardens parsnip and Parmesan soup. It came out really well, and there is plenty left over for a couple of lunches. I got the lunch ready for today as we have an early start and ironed for the rest of the week.

Being here on my own and relaxed and happy really makes me realise what an idiot I was to move back in!

Categories: Relationship

...my fuckwit husband has to go and get all up his own arse.

Everything has been going OK. Well as OK as it has been over the last few years. I went to visit my mum, (I go about once a week and stay one to two hours). When I got back he had gone out with our 12 year old to pick blackberries. I love very little more than free food, so was very happy about this. I'd been a to work all week so took the opportuity to clean the bathroom, our bedroom and put some laundry through. Just about then, they came back. Dave started straight away to make apple and blackberry crumble, we got the apples free as well :). He asked if I would make some jam with the rest of it. So I got on with that (I just have to put the ingredients in, the breadmaker actually makes the jam).

It was getting late and dinner wasn't started, the sink was full of dirty dishes, and the dishwasher full of clean. I opened the dishwasher to empty it and this was the first sign that I was DOING SOMETHING WRONG... he banged the door shut, and thinking it was best to get out of the way until he was finished I went and sat with my son. Dave finishes what he is doing and clears the dishes out of the sink, then comes to find me, and says,

"aren't you going to bother with dinner tonight then".

I reply in my sweetest voice, "of course honey, I was just waiting for you to finish in the kitchen"

"thats right, somehow it's my fault that dinner isn't ready."

Now I start to get a little pissed, but head into the kitchen and get some further abuse, normally, in my good little wifey way, I'd apologise at this point try to calm the waters and make the dinner.

But, when he followed up his tirade with, "what sort of a mother are you?"

I have to admit, I let rip, "fuck it," says I, "I don't have to listen to this shit, I'm going to the fish shop".

I'm ashamed to admit that the kids heard this, and I know they hate to hear us arguing. We don't have cross words very often, but it still upsets them.

In my womanly way I go around and around this conversation and I can not for the life of me figure out where it came from. When I got back he was sat in the sitting room with a family size packet of crisps, me and the kids ate our fish and chips which were lovely.

Categories: Family, Relationship