The d**khead diary

A true story

 Wow. Where do I start?  The man who I have singularly renamed “Dickhead” or “Dick” for short, used to be lovely. Or appeared to be lovely, whichever way you want to look at it. He wasn’t my usual type; he was stocky, with a beard and ginger hair. But he was outgoing, fun, and we got along well. For six months we dated and I definately thought he was the one for me, he took me out, made me smile and even better my parents approved of him.

When I found out that I was pregnant, we were over the moon. And then he changed. Suddenly he started to argue with me over the littlest things, refused to help me out around the house. It was almost as if I had slipped into the housewife/mother role over night, despite me working a forty hour week the same as him.

Rows would become more intense, and I wasnt sure that I wanted to be with him anymore, but didnt really see how I could end it with a baby on the way. I was also extremely worried about what my family would think, they adored him but somehow I couldnt bring myself to tell them what went on behind closed doors. The way he spoke to me, he made me feel so low. When I did pluck up the courage to tell him I was leaving he turned on the water works, saying that without me he had nobody. Now I wasnt normally one for putting up with emotional blackmail, but with my hormones all over the place, I let him talk me into staying. It was the easier option, and I told myself that he would change once the baby was born.

And he did, for a while. He was a brilliant dad, he got up every night to change nappies, would take over when I was tired and would happily tell everyone he saw how proud he was. But then the arguments started again. I told myself it was just because we were tired and under alot of stress. But it got worse, and he started to call me some really nasty names and punch the wall and would even swing his fist close to my face. This would scare the hell out of me but he seemed to get a kick out of seeing me upset, telling me that he would never hit me.

I knew deep down that it was only a matter of time before he hit me for real. He was always so angry about everything,I just didn't know why. His parents had passed away the year before and i had tried so hard to help him grieve. But he wasn't interested in talking about it and I felt way out of my depth having no experience with death whatsoever.  I wasnt prepared to risk mine or my daughters safety. I thought long and hard about what to do, then very bravely packed a bag and asked him to drive me and the baby to my mums.

The End

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