One of the benefits of Barry not having his own place to look after the baby has been that I have forced myself to go out a lot more. I have been a social butterfly this Christmas, spending lots of time with family and friends and consuming copious amounts of vodka. I’ve had fun. More fun than I would have had in the house with Barry being miserable. He has also been partying hard and has had a few hangovers.
It became clear this week that it is one rule for him and another for me. He had a night out and did not text until 12 the next day. This didn’t bother me. I told him to sleep it off and be round at 4.30pm so I could go to a party in Wigan. By 5pm he still wasn’t here so I called and called until he woke up. I knew he would be sleeping. He didn’t answer his phone though, he never answers his phone to me. He sent a text saying he was on his way. I had everything ready for him, including a tea for him and the baby to eat. So off I went for an overnight stay in Wigan.
By 9am the next morning I received a text asking what time I’d be home! This is how the conversation went:
Barry: What time are you heading home?
Barry: Are you going to be back before 12?
Me: I doubt it. Why?
Barry: Cos I’m going out now.
Me: So why do you need me? Where are you going?
Barry: I’m going climbing. Why is it taking you so long to come back?
Me: You’re taking the baby climbing?
Me: Barry, you went out on Friday night and did not text all night or until 12 the next day. Why do you expect me to be back to look after the baby when I’m hungover? Hardly fair is it?
Barry: I’m not expecting you back. I’m asking for a specific time seen as you’re always giving me specific times.
Me: OK, I’ll be back at 5.30
Barry: I’ll take the baby to your mum’s then and you can collect him at 5.30
Me: No, you won’t! Look after him yourself! He’s your son!
Unbelievable! He ended up taking the baby out and I asked for an apology when he got back.
It was at this point that I had a revelation. I have no idea where Barry goes when he leaves the house, I do not know any of his friends that he has made in the last couple of years because he has never introduced me, or invited them over. I don’t know anyone he works with. It suddenly hits me like a brick: he left me a long time ago. He has carved out a new life for himself that does not involve me at all. After thirteen years together I decide enough is enough. If he doesn’t want me, then why do I want him? Why have I given him the time to decide if he still wants me or not? He left seven weeks ago but all his clothes and things are still here. In my house. I tell him I want him to pack all his things and leave. I want him to find somewhere to live that is suitable for him to have the baby overnight. He says that he doesn’t want to pack his things. I ask ‘Haven’t you got anywhere to put it? Is that why?’ ‘No,’ he says, ‘this is my home. I don’t know if I want to leave yet.’ ‘I’m telling you to leave,’ I say. He refuses to take his things and leaves the house saying he’ll do it another day. I’m furious. Now I can’t get rid of him.
I would have packed all his things myself by now but I didn’t fancy bringing in the new year surrounded by bin bags.