The most recent recrimination recitation went about as well as can be expected.
At the conclusion of the session, the marriage counselor stood and said, “Ok, let’s continue this next time. I can fit you in a fortnight from now.” When I responded, “Oh, we’re not coming back here. There is no fucking point,” he gave me the Surprised Pikachu look and stammered, “B-but w-whyyyy?” I countered with, “Do you genuinely believe that you have helped in any way? Seriously, that’s not a rhetorical question”. His answer was, “There’s no need to be rude! Make sure you lock the gate when you leave” and he stalked out of the room, muttering darkly to himself. What a soft bitch! Obviously, that was money well spent.
It was also the first time in weeks that the future ex lost the steel grip that she’s kept on her emotions when she realised I have had enough of her shit. Or maybe it was because she’s sad the game is over. Doesn’t matter. I think I saw actual tears. We live in a time of miracles, people!
If I’m to be the bad guy, then I have no reason not to lean into it.
Bonus content courtesy of Bing Image Creator:
