Female Narcissists

 

(The silent treatment is actual psychological torture.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 8 a.m. and drank a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. Over 18,000 Koreans were nabbed for drunk driving during the month of April. This comes as no big surprise. The denizens of the peninsula love to drink their alcoholic beverages. In fact, many of them spend their nights in a perpetual stupor. And it doesn’t take a lot of money to remain inebriated for years and years. You can purchase a bottle of soju at any store for less than two bucks. Furthermore, this clear potent liquor is imbibed with every meal. But it goes best with greasy pork. I used to be a booze hound.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. Famous UFC fighter Conor McGregor attended the NBA contest between Miami and Denver. During one of the commercial breaks, he entertained the audience by fighting the Heat’s mascot on the hardwood floor. It was meant to be comic relief, yet Conor is a powerful man who doesn’t know his own strength. He jokingly punched the guy and sent the poor prick to the hospital. Sadly, the victim had to be helped to the ambulance by good Samaritans. McGregor is an entertaining man, but he’s never been the brightest crayon in the box.

I walked into the living room and looked at the Dragon Lady.

I said, “Are you going to the vet?”

Silence.

I said, “Would you like me to come with you?”

More silence followed by angry glowering.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’m completely nuts. I’ve been living in this horror movie for nearly a quarter century. My wife clearly hates my guts, so why do I stay? I could fly out of here within the next 48 hours, leaving the disaster of my marriage behind me forever and ever. I think it comes down to pride. The idea of being a man in his 50s working at Home Depot or the Waffle House scares the shit out of me. With that said, it’s got to be better than my current situation. By the way, the silent treatment is the preferred method of torture used by female narcissists. And make no mistake. It’s absolute hell.

I knocked on Rice-Boy Larry’s door.

He said, “What?”

I said, “You have to go with your mom to the vet.”

“Is the dog sick?”

“No. She only needs her shots.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“Mom’s not speaking to me, and there is murder in her eyes.”

He sighed heavily. “OK. Give me ten minutes.”

“Good boy. Thanks, son.”

After they left, I took a quick shower. While I was drying off, I got a call from a 70-year-old woman named Beatrice. I used to work with her in the past. Beatrice is now retired and currently lives on Vancouver Island with her dog. She’s a jolly Canadian.

She said, “Have you seen Succession?”

I said, “No. Is it good?”

“I love it.”

“Can I find it on Netflix?”

“Yes.”

I nodded. “OK, I’ll check it out. But if it sucks, heads will roll.”

I switched on the television and started looking for the show. Sadly, Beatrice was wrong. Succession belongs to HBO and is only playing on Max and Amazon. I thought about doing an illegal download but changed my mind. I simply couldn’t be bothered.

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