Too much info for you already? Well then BOG OFF, cos thats the mood I'm in.
No, I'm a hopeless stupid liar, thats just the mood I wish so very bloody hard that I was in, but somehow the bravado is missing it's underpinning. I feel like a bark with no dog, snarl grunph grrr, but never mind no teeth, I couldn't even give chase. And heaven help me if someone snarls back.
What really, really pisses me off about this is the paranoia. I have no idea whether it's built in to the situation, but such are the tales of women being nasty, murderous creatures during their period that I cant even make a stab at a witty retort without hurrying to some dark corner to fret over whether I came across as a bitch.
"Was that a cowish thing I just said?"
"Is X going to think I am completely unhinged now?"
"Have I just committed social suicide?"
See what I mean? One sideways remark = up to a good hour of insecurity, depending on how unexpected it was, followed by depression. For any men that haven't puked and moved on by now, this is how it goes:
- You spend a week every month with stomach cramps - think charcoal BBQ embers, inside, around the belly button area, and bad enough to feel like you have also been punched in both kidneys.
- Its tiring, and depressing, and inconvenient and not something you can 'share' (unless like me you have decided to commit blogicide).
- You have this slightly anaemic, breathless feeling like the hollow after-effect of a three day bender when you got back to work, but somehow, even a couple of days later, you just cant get your shit together.
Catch 22 is, while you're stepping back muttering "Where the fuck did THAT come from?", she is (I am) realising what just happened, going through the omg omg omg mantra and mentally rushing off to panic in a corner somewhere about what a dreadful thing she/I just said/did, too anaemic and tired and dizzy to work out whether the insult was one which would wear off in a day or two, or enough to have you spend every night for the next year warning all and sundry not to go near her/me because she's/I'm the ultimate psycho bitch from hell.
The WORST thing you can do is decide to bolster your own defences or reply just as caustically because by that time Attilla has turned into a lost and marginally frantic five year old, who is going to cry lots and hate you 'for ever and ever' if you be mean.
Be honest, you've been there.
I dont think we women become evil when we're 'on', I just think that our normal amounts of inbuilt evil get zapped by hormones and solidify, so instead of a steady gentle flow of acidic wit all day, some poor sod gets the lot, all at once, and then wham, we're clean out of viciousness and subsequently defenceless, just at the point when he's tooling up to protect himself.
On the other hand, I'm on, so am prepared to believe that this may just be the biggest pile of rubbish I have ever written and that I will look at it in three or four days and decide that's the end of my blogging career.
Girls, please comment, have you been there, or am I bleeping odd?
Guys, have you lived through this with your wife or girlfriend?
Hello? Anybody out there?
Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit..........................