Sunday, November 28, 2010

Letter to the Last Person I Kissed

Dear Husband,

We're not on speaking terms right now because I am so pissed off with you.   Why are men like babies?  We were both sick of diarrhea from our recent trip, and I got the worst of it.

You kept expecting much from me.  I warned you that I will not be my amusing and entertaining self as usual because...I am SICK.  Did you notice that I threw up five times and in between I had to sit in the toilet bowl for you know why!

You asked me if I'd like to check in to the hospital, and cancel our plane flight.   I told you, "No, I just would like to go home".  Yet we did not go home as fast as we could.  You decided you'd like to consult a new doctor for your hematoma, so I had to wait for you while you went for your hematoma consultation.  Did you not remember that I am  still with diarrhea?

Fast forward. We are at last home and I was able to rest my carcass in bed, very weak from vomiting, etc.  Later, you announced you were going out and you did.  You went drinking and when you came back you were with diarrhea again.  I was furious, and when confronted, you arrogantly said "In case it was not obvious, I would like to be alone".  At my prodding you admitted you were pissed off with me.  Why? 

You thought that I was 'acting' and was not feeling that bad, and only wanted to get your attention.  Same with my fuc**ng walking stick.  You thought that I really don't need the walking stick but was just out to get your attention.  Something's very wrong here.  Did I get extras for my 'acting'. like a car, extra allowance, etc.  NADA, ZERO.    Think hard, husband.  I hope your brain's not fired from too much drinking and antibiotics.

It's Me, Your Pissed-off Wife


This morning after, we're now okay.  You know me, I don't hold grudges and  I realized something.  Maybe subconsciously you look at me as your nurse and a nurse is not supposed to get sick and that pissed you off.  Yes.  One of the things that I was proud of is being as healthy as a carabao.  So from now on I would take good fu**ing care of myself, even if it means having you eat all the pineapples that you like, instead of me gobbling them so that you won't have to eat much of them.  I was afraid that pineapples don't mix good with your beer. I was afraid you'll have stomach ache so I gobbled the damned pineapples and that caused or htat was one of the causes of my fu**ing diarrhea.

I will have you carry your heavy back pack instead of me carrying two back packs, one  yours and one, my  own back pack.  I was so worried that you'll hurt your bad back so I was like a martyr carrying two fu**ing backpacks for the two of us.  That caused my knees to buckle at Puerto Galera last May and until now, I am still hobbling like an old woman with my fu**ing cane.  No more martyrdom for me.  I will take good fu**ing care of myself.


  1. lol, Trey, I was about to delete this post, am embarassed with it now, but with your comment on it, am having second thoughts :))

    Anyway, this is our little secret, just between you and me and the big wide cyberspace out there, lol


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