Dangerous Women

 

(Avoid high-conflict personalities like the plague.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. A giant LGBTQ festival is about to be held in the city of Daegu. A local Christian group tried to put the kibosh on the party, but to no avail. The district court ruled that freedom of speech trumps religious bias. And I agree wholeheartedly. Korea is a democracy with freedom of expression. So the sodomites have every right in the world to hold a parade. Good for them. This isn’t ancient Jerusalem, and we no longer live under Mosaic Law. However, lewd public acts should be prosecuted aggressively—especially if they are done in front of children.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. A man from Florida named Duane Owen was just executed by the state for raping and killing two women back in 1984. One of the victims was only fourteen at the time of her death. She had been babysitting a couple of rugrats when Owens broke into the home and committed his atrocity. He violated this girl while the children were asleep in another room. I can’t believe it took nearly forty years to whack this motherfucker. What was the hold up?

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

She said, “How’s your wife doing?”

I said, “She’s still fucking crazy.”

“Don’t let her abuse you. Stand up for yourself.”

“What exactly do you have in mind? Should I punch her in the head? That would land me in jail.”

“Tell her to leave.”

“I’ve asked her a million times. She simply refuses.”

Mom took a sip of coffee. “There’s got to be something you can do. Pretty soon, you’ll be in the poor house.”

It’s very difficult to explain my situation to other people. I’m not a psychiatrist, but I believe that the Dragon Lady has a cluster-B personality disorder known as BPD. These types of folk simply can’t control their temper, and they fly into a blind rage at the drop of a hat. They throw things. They break furniture. They hit people. They even abuse animals. Think of Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. How would you like to live with that for the rest of your life?

To make matters worse, borderlines often display narcissistic tendencies. For instance, when I lived in China, she stole most of the money out of my bank account and flew back to Korea simply out of pure spite. But here was the problem. Rice-Boy Larry was with me, too. He was in sixth grade at the time, and I had to bum money from an acquaintance just so we could eat. These disturbed people never grow up. They are perpetual children.

Mom said, “Do you have a plan to extricate yourself from this situation?”

I said, “Well, she claims that she’s going to divorce me this summer. So I’m keeping my fingers crossed.”

“Why don’t you just hop on a plane and get the fuck out of there?”

“She’ll hunt me down to the ends of the earth. I’m her target of blame.”

“Target of blame? What the hell is that?”

“High-conflict individuals often focus their hatred on one unfortunate ding-dong whom they wish to abuse in perpetuity. Then that poor prick gets transformed into a permanent Judas goat. In other words, I’m her punching bag. When something goes wrong,--no matter what it is—I’m the asshole who gets kicked in the teeth.”

“Sounds like you’re screwed.”

I nodded in agreement. My wife has latched herself onto me like an unwanted cancerous growth. But things could always be worse. At least I’m not getting butt fucked in the Congo by angry freedom fighters. I try to look on the bright side. That’s how I keep my dick up during grim times.

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