Potty Mouth

I had no idea Dear Husband was such a delicate flower.

Two days after receiving no reply to my 999th email about DH's unpaid bill, I sent him the following missive.

"Still.waiting.for.an.answer.about.the.fucking.hospital.bill"

DH replied with astounding speed:

"Don't curse at me. I am tired of you cursing at me."

Wow. You'd think a guy who hangs out with tranny whores could handle that kind of language.

But that's DH - a portrait in contrasts. A devout Catholic who cheats on his wife. A proud dad who is letting his ex-wife and his parents raise his kids. A guy who swears he's going to open his own restaurant within the next two years, but who can't keep a job or meet the most basic financial responsibilities.

I had no idea I married such a complex man. Of course, DH knew he married a woman who swears like a sailor. But I guess he has a point. I've only been trying to get him to pay this bill for eight! fucking! months! There's no need to be uncivilized.