It’s the latest genre of behavior going around, and it’s not pretty. People who go through life cut and parrying when you’re not even carrying a sword.
It’s a pity a preventable shot wasn’t available.
A guy I know in his 30s told me a disturbing tale. It was his girlfriend’s birthday, him showing up with roses to take her to dinner. She took the box hurling it at him and said, “That’s it, that’s all I get?” He did have something else quite lovely in his pocket, but he was so stunned and hurt, he picked the box up…yes, they were long-stemmed roses, and brought them to his mother. I felt very bad for him not to mention nonplussed, a great word to describe and capture utter amazement.
If you brought me gum in a card, I’d just be thrilled you remembered.
This past birthday, someone I adore forgot. When I mentioned it, he said, “Oh, didn’t have access.”
Access…excuse me? To what, your mind? Needless to say, I adore him no more.
Meet the Wounders.
Then we have the passive ones, those who hurt quiet and steadily. I have a friend who’s not been well and needs to change his lifestyle quickly or he won’t be on the planet much longer. His wife stands by more like a parole officer than a loving helpmate watching this man with no self-control, who can’t seem to rise up and live healthier. I’d like to shake her till her heart dropped out of her chest.
HE NEEDS HELP!!!
All the men I’ve been with I cared for. Even the few who didn’t deserve it, like the last one. Doesn’t take much to make sure someone is more or less okay, but Wounders are selfish, only caring about themselves and what you can do for them.
It so saddens me.
It sounds like a really bad TV show.
The Wounders, coming this fall, on Fox.