Drug Fucked Clowns...

I'm sitting on the fence at the Showground; playing with Sconesy's yoyo. He can't do the Waterfall trick, so I'm showing him how it's done.

My eyes wander over to the nearby group of men; they're standing around watching the Wood Chopping exhibition- beer cans in hand. My Hubby's amongst them and I catch his eye for a brief moment before he smiles awkwardly and looks away again. I can tell that he's happier that I'm amusing Myself away from him, but he's still keeping an eye on me because the Pill I've just taken is threatening to make me become Interesting very soon- and because I'll probably embarrass him in the process...

We're on a Bus Trip with all of my Hubby's drinking mates; one of them has entered the Brick-Throwing contest for the last four years but the rest of us just use the day as an excuse to get really drunk and wasted. Last year I ran into a barbed wire fence with my pants around my ankles and ripped up my new jeans on an otherwise perfectly ordinary piss-stop on the way home; but that's another story.

Today I feel like my Hubby doesn't want to spend any of his time with me, so I am talking to all the other young blokes who have come on the trip with us. I've never met Pistol Pete before. He's got long yellow dreadlocks dripping out from underneath his Akubra hat and is dressed in a plastic pair of cowboy chaps; the costume even coming complete with a small plastic hand-gun. He's in his early twenties but he still jokes that his mum dressed him this morning and he's almost believable. I'm having fun with the boys; they're all off their guts too; Pistol Pete's doing forward rolls across the arena in front of the Grandstand. He's not annoying the crowd of spectators; they think he's a clown of some sort; and he is- a Drug-fucked Clown.

Clarky tells us he's had three Pills- he'd be strobing like a Disco-ball by now. I am and I only had one. We're all hilarious; I'm being myself for a change- and I'm not stammering like an idiot in front of everyone. Everyone thinks I'm funny even though I'm just babbling and not making a whole lot of sense- and while not too many people understood the significance to the story of how I once stole a yoyo from under someone's desk, I still told it anyway...

I've got quite a crowd of people watching me teaching the guys how to do Loop-the-Loop and Baby's Cradle. I give it back to Sconesy to practice with while my Hubby and I wander up to the pub together to wait for the bus to take us home in the afternoon. If we miss it we're stranded here for the night; so I intend to be on it nice and early- I'll probably even get the back seat if I'm quick.

We haven't spoken much all day because I've been chatting mostly to the other girlfriends and wives of his mates; and playing yoyo with the boys from the pub. He's had Twinkle Toes and Golden Shower Boy for company; who we later learnt hitched a ride home on the Joy-ride helicopter. I put their real names into a Prison Bitch name generator and that's what they ended up with. Mine was Turd Packer; in case you are interested- and my Hubby's was the Altar Boy...

He's had a fun time without Me, too; and I resent it when it seems that mine is coming to an end. I wish I could say that I actually remembered everything that happened next; but I was so drunk and drug-fucked by this time that you could hardly expect me too.

Anyhow; it goes Something like this...

I'm sitting at the picnic table with Nort's girlfriend, sharing a joint that my Hubby has just rolled for us. I'm being a bit of a pig with it and not sharing very well when she realises that she's left her sunglasses and beanie behind when she last went to the toilet back at the Showground. The bus is leaving in about fifteen minutes so I tell her that I'll knit her a new beanie- I don't know why I thought I even could; I don't even have a pattern- but she really wants to go back and get it, because it's her favourite white girly one- so she and Nort head back to find it while the rest of us promise to make the bus wait until they get back.

When they get back, still with plenty of time, I quietly tell her that I can't believe that Nort would go to all the bother of going back to the Showground with her just for a beanie; and was amazed that he wasn't shitty at her for holding up the bus- that's what my Hubby's reaction would have been. Last time I went back to find something I'd left behind at the pub I got called an Alcohol Prostitute and was observed on CCTV having a public brawl with my Hubby at the Taxi Rank...

She tells me that she knows my Hubby still loves me; she tells me she has confronted him about why he always goes out so much and leaves me at home with the kids so much; my Hubby and her's are very good mates- and we all know each other reasonably well- but I told I I didn't think she knew us well enough to really say that she knew anything for sure.

For some reason she thinks that my Hubby and I have a lot in common; but the only things I can think to tell her are that we have two kids that neither of us planned on having and have stayed together for fifteen years when it really should have ended after the first night; because if I hadn't been such an efficient stalker then I never would have even found him again- it would have been near impossible after he gave me that fake name he introduced himself with...

And in return for his deception I let him have my virginity, which I thought was really giving and nice of me, don't you think?

The point that I was trying to make to Nort's girlfriend was that my Hubby didn't even like me enough to give me his real name on the night that I met him because he didn't want to see me again. And that's exactly what should have happened. That's what Fate wanted. And I changed it.

I didn't go into these details with her; it would have taken too long to explain everything that's happened in the last fifteen years. But She needs to know, even if I never tell her, that my Hubby and I hardly speak- that we've got Nothing Much to say to each other unless we have been drinking. We rarely touch unless we are fucking. I don't think we've ever 'made love'- I'm not even sure I know what that term means.

My love for him is desperate; that's the best way to describe it. He doesn't give me enough love and affection and that makes me need it from him even more. I doubt he'd even miss me until he had to do the grocery shopping for himself or wanted a lift someplace.

I wish I could remember- exactly- what I said to him on the bus that caused his face to change. One minute he was just looking at me normally and now he actually looks hurt. I want to take it back when he tells me that what I'd just said was a 'bit harsh'. Take what back; I wondered dreamily, as if I could change anything now. Maybe I told him that I wasn't sure if I loved him anymore- that he didn't give me much reason to. It's funny- because the truth of the matter is that when we were at the showground I saw him looking over at me every now and then; like he did want to spend some time with me if I would have only let him. I was the one who ignored him all day while I partied on with Clarky and Pistol Pete...

And it's not like we didn't both have a good time without the other- I threw a rolling pin seventy nine feet with a beer still in my hand and had a great time with my Hubby's mate's girlfriend- You know- Fudge Boy's missus; Miss Fancy Pants?

But if I could, I would change it still; because whatever it was that I said to him on the bus that day has driven the wedge even deeper than it was between us. If that was even possible.

For the past few nights I have wanted to reach out and touch him; but I can't. I'm too scared that he doesn't want me to; that he would rather it if I never laid one scraggy finger on him ever again. He kisses me morning and night like he'd kiss his mother; passionless and forced- I'd actually rather that he didn't bother at all than have him kiss my lips so lifelessly; so dead. I can't remember the last time his tongue was in my mouth; and even though I'm emotionless on the surface I still crave him touching and wanting my body again like he used to...

Once upon a time.