The happiest two weeks of my life

I went on holiday recently. Mr. Wilde and I hired a car and drove 3000 miles around America. Those were the happiest few weeks of my life - so far.

Things have changed since then. Recently Mr. Wilde has been grumpy, unhuggable and snappy. I don't know what's wrong with him. I keep asking and he keeps saying 'nothing'. It's not nothing because I feel fucking miserable.

It might be because I'm an untidy bitch who doesn't help around the house. I'm getting better and I've been trying so hard these last couple of weeks. He doesn't see it, we aren't living in complete squalor. The dining table has some stuff on it and I need to do some filing but it's not bad and I can't see it.

I feel so helpless.

I'm going to have a major tidy up tonight while he is playing computer games.

But back to happy times. I wish we were still on the road, I wish we were still laughing at Americans' accents and finding weird, quirky places to eat. I wish we were listening to live music at Niagara falls.

Most of all, I wish I could have a fucking hug and stop feeling so damn miserable.

He's at work and he's busy. But I've been texting him these last few days telling him how shitty I feel. He could take 30 seconds out of his day, or even on his walk home to text me back and tell me everything is going to be okay.

Or when I get home he could give me a massive hug rather than complaining about how the dinner he cooked for me isn't going right or how the cat smells. Just a hug, a kiss. Tell me it's okay, please. I feel so crap.

I trust him. More than anything. But he's going out on Friday night with works friends. I am not allowed to go (despite having a good relationship with his work friends.) Loads of the girls at his work fancy him and I'm so paranoid that he'll get drunk and do something stupid.

I guess that means I don't trust him.

It's not that, it's paranoia. I hate the fact that he is out having fun without me. And I hate myself for admitting that. I'm such a cunt. I've got a friend coming over for drinks, if she wasn't going to be with me on Friday night then I'd be a mess. I need to try not to text him at all.

I'm a paranoid person but this stems from him saying - a few years ago mind you - "I was dancing with this girl last night thinking 'I could kiss her but I'm not going to because I get to go home to (you).'"



You're a cunt and it's no wonder I hurt you when I'm drunk. He shouldn't want to dance or even think about kissing anyone but me. Does he think about his girl work mates like that. Is this an opportunity to get in there and do some hardcore flirting because I'm not around.

I can't handle this. I love him more than life itself. Things aren't always this bad. Normally we are the perfect couple because I don't let the neuroses show. After Friday things will be back to normal. I hope to fuck that he isn't horrendously hungover on Saturday because I'll need him for hugs more than ever. Plus he's infuriatingly boring when he's hungover.

I don't think he'd ever cheat on me. But that doesn't stop me over analysing every little thing he does. Playing out every terrible scenario in my head. Part of my is convinced that he is about to break up with me. I would be lost without him.

All that I want to do is marry him.

I keep playing it through in my head, if he came back from his night out saying he'd kissed a colleague I'd say that I'd split up with him. But I wouldn't. The pain of being without him would be too much. Fuck, if he tried to stab me in the throat I'd still stay with him.

I can't remember the last time I saw him smile.

I don't want to make him unhappy but I think I do. What can I do, internet? I've tried talking to him, he still says nothing wrong. Well why does he have a face like a slapped arse?

I wish we were back in America, totally in love with no one else to worry about or think about.


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