I love you more than anything in this world. You are my love, and I know that I will be with you until we are old and gray. I try to be good and sweet but I fucking hate your mother and can't stand that you talk with her twice a day, everyday! I know why you do it, I truly understand, but that doesn't matter to me at all. I can hardly stand to be in the same room when you talk with her cause she makes me spitting mad with her random stupidity! How did you ever come out of a fucked up home such as the one your mother created? I hate when she comes to visit and I count down the days until she is gone. If you ever let her stay with us as long as last time, I will find every possible thing to do away from the house so that you will have to manage with her all by yourself. I promise. You have made me promise that if anything ever happened to you that I would take care of her, well, Baby, sometimes I just don't know if I will be able to keep my end of the bargain.
Sometimes I am struck dumb by the fact that I got a fantastic mother-in-law as well as the amazing son she raised.
I am so thankful that I "manage" the finances because you will never know that the reason things are so tight now is that we are paying for my 4 month stint with an online gambling addiction!
Guess what? I do not like having sex with you. Contrary to what your MOTHER told you, size does matter. I understand that you had a birth defect, but there are times when I can't believe that for the rest of my life I will be having sex with a man who's penis is literally an inch and a half long. AN INCH AND A HALF! And keeping the lights off during sex does not mask the problem. I love you with all my heart, but I hate your tiny penis.
I wasn't dropping off documents at "Mike's", we were following around and doing drugs.
I really hate it that when I look around our room, I
see a hamper in the corner. And that on the floor,
less than 4 inches from that hamper are your dirty
underwear. About 6 inches from that, some raunchy
socks. And a t-shirt. I've seen you play basketball,
so I know you understand the concept. HIT THE BASKET.
How 'bout for each time you score a basket with your
dirty laundry, you score in bed? Bet we still only
have sex once or twice a month!!!
Just stop bitching. I love you. You are a wonderful, handsome man and a good
father. We had our bad times in the past but now things are good. We have a
wonderful life. Our kids are beautiful. We have a great home in a nice
neighborhood. We have decent jobs. Why do you bitch about everything??? We
went on vacation last week and our twelve year old asked me why you complain
about everything. Just stop it. You are driving me crazy.
Whenever I meet any of your friends I have dreams about having sex with them because sex with you is so routine and boring, I dream of a man who will initiate sex with me instead of making me ask. We're in our 20's why am I only getting some one or twice a month if I leave it to you???? We don't even have any kids.....
In all the years we have been together you have never once told me that my body turns you on. You always seem to point out women that look good. You don't realize how many years I have suffered inside. You tell me that my face is so beautiful and my inside person is so good but I don't fucking want to hear that. I want to hear that I look good and know that when you close your eyes you are thinking of me. Not of the woman that you undressed with your eyes earlier that day. Or the friend of mine that is nice and in shape. Why did you marry me if you wanted to change me so much? It is sad that when we have sex I get off by thinking about you and that girl you told me to look at in the store. Because I feel you are screwing someone else and not me...
I thought I would feel bad about cheating, but I felt cheated that it was bad
I love my belly dance lessons but I never intend to dance for you
you are very good in bed, very good
when you take over cooking supper in the middle of it because it dawns on you that I am monitoring our child in the shower, folding laundry, cooking supper, and cleaning up the living room; don't stop cooking supper
when you have a day off and I have to work, stay out of the bathroom, stay out of the kitchen, as a matter of fact stay in bed until I am gone
If you refer to watching our child as babysitting one more time when you talk to your friends; when I get home I am going to pay you and ask you to leave. You aren't babysitting you are parenting!!