"We're Working in the Dark, Mr. Bean!"

My girlfriend... correction... cuddle-partner/roommate/friend, went up to the Rite Aid for "the cigarette patch" today and spent money on it after she told me that she has no money to spare ever.  She has asked me for money untold times over the years, even pilfering my wallet once upon a time of $20 while I lay asleep with one eye open.  


So, after she told me countless times over the years that she is going to stop smoking my cigarettes "tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow...," until as recently as making a New Year's Resolution 2012, she wakes up to one of my cigarettes New Year's Day.

Also, I shared a song called "Can't Find a Better Man" by a rock band called "Pearl Jam" to her FaceBlock page on a night she was out "scouting other men" at bars with her welfare-friend-mom-who-makes-a-better-lover.  

The night my cuddle-partner/roommate/friend was out with her welfare-friend-mom-who-makes-a-better-lover, she texted me some "beastly" annoyances after midnight.  She only just today listened to the song that I shared to her FB page about two weeks ago the night she texted me.  The song has the line: "she lies and says she loves me... can't find a better man."

So, when my cuddle-partner/roommate/friend was at Rite Aid buying the cigarette patch today (which can be exorbitant in price to effectiveness ratios imo), she didn't have a discount Rite Aid card for 10% off everything, like I do.  She told the clerk, who had probably asked her if she had a Rite Aid card, that no: she didn't have a Rite Aid card, "but I think my boyfriend does."

After she telling the clerk at Rite Aid two phone numbers for the system to find my account, the clerk found my account under the second phone number that she proffered upon the clerk, in lieu of my presence.  Upon her return to where we stay later in the day and through light conversational "bespeak" to inquire of another's day, she divulged the details of her purchase of the cigarette patch at Rite Aid using my phone numbers to find my account in the system and saying to me what she told the clerk: that "my boyfriend does" have a Rite Aid card.

Now, my cuddle-partner/roommate/friend has long insisted that I am not her boyfriend and, upon her insistance, nor is she my girlfriend.  Yet, for a 10% discount (with my account at Rite Aid) on the cigarette patch that she bought today and while she has the patch on/off? this evening, she is smoking my tobacco in the kitchen as I write this and she continues to harangue me for cigarettes.

Yet, she tells a clerk at Rite Aid that I am her boyfriend for a 10% discount on the cigarette patch: at that, while I hear her BIC flick in the kitchen at just this moment over the-din-of-noise-in-my-head bothering her all the time my being quiet or speaking English to her.

At one point over the course of Xmas 2011: she exacerbated my case of the "fuk-u-ok-a-hole" disease all over my BIC lighters "getting nicked" resulting in my going to the store at all hours for a new lighter (at one point, my having four lighters; at another point, none lighters)! 


(I have chain smoked since being diagnosed schizophrenic in 1996).

My question is: "Are illogical non-sequiturs what can be expected of women by men and for that matter: expected of a lot of men too?  Why?"  I wonder because my cuddle-partner/roommate/friend's predecessor to me with an entirely "different chemical imbalance" "nicked" my BICs too, worse than my "current" cuddle-partner/roommate/friend ever has.  

I proposed a solution to my cuddle-partner/roommate/friend one night over the past two weeks of Xmas 2011 and that was there are three rules of this place where we co-habitat: 


1. don't touch my BIC lighters; 
2. don't touch my red-lettered Chinois plate; 
3. don't touch my Lipton (the Brisk Tea) tea cup.  

By the time I was spitting out the third rule to her upon her return to the place where we stay: the night I was to tell her the rules having had enough of the BIC "fuk-u-ok-a-holes," she was screaming at the top of her lungs and running out the front door only for me to hear a "howler monkey" on the street outside in New England!

Then, she returned upstairs two minutes later and called her welfare-friend-mom-who-makes-a-better-lover to probably complain of abuse while I was at my "entertainment center" listening to music on my headphones with a view of the kitchen where she was sitting on the phone in this 45x18 studio where we stay.

Tonight, the night of the day that she bought the patch at Rite Aid and she mentioned offhand that she used my account for a 10% discount on the patch, I asked her pointedly: "Oh!  So, I am your boyfriend?"

She replied something: I wish that I could remember for sure, but I think that it was: "No."  

Tonight's conversation continued... she having also mentioned to me tonight that she had just listened to the song "Can't Find a Better Man" that I had shared to her FaceBlock page about two weeks ago (the night she texted me "beastly" annoyances when out with her friend after midnight)... AND, I tried to equate "she lies and says she loves me... can't find a better man..." TO... "she lies and says she's my girlfriend (for a 10% discount)... can't find a better man..."  

Upon equating the two variations of the line from the song "Can't Find a Better Man" by Pearl Jam, it ended in her yelling at me then slapping me across the jaw storming out of the kitchen where we were seated into the other room only to not speak to me the rest of the night and she in bed at 8pm: assumedly to avoid me in a 45x18 quarter with a small dog, a "fatty-tranny" cat, my cuddle-partner/roommate/friend and myself.


(Albeit: other words and sentences were used both by myself and her during the course of all this rigamarole precipitating the episode to heights and pitches in voices leading to the jaw slap).


So: I am at a quandary.  Do I continue to attempt to communicate with "chocolate pukes" who speak "engrish...:"

... "chocolate pukes" being most of whom I ever find myself talking to living here (bearing in mind: there is no geographical cure) or do I just bite my tongue, or, "jack it up," but,... but,... "IT FEELS JUST THAT GOOD" and I ain't gay or old!?


I do like this woman as much as anyone woman I have met in my life, which numbers 50+ in 38 years.


This one does much to improve my life in many ways, but really...!?  


I have also had for a long time (all my life -it-seems-) troubles in communicating with my mother, if there is any freudian analogy that can be drawn what with my diagnosis of schizophrenia since 1996, et. al.!?


However, I would have been gladly dead in a ditch if it hadn't been for my mother and father.


Mostly, it is at my mom's insistance and persistance that I am in this place where I stay with my cuddle-partner/roommate/friend, small dog and "fatty-tranny Kitty" while others are dying in ditches.


Yet, there is English and then there is "engrish!!!"


ME SHOUTING: "PERIODS ARE FOR A REASON."  
Followed by my whispering, "commas are for another reason!"

"In this life: one has to be obsessive compulsive, persistent and an outright asshole to get a point across.  Plain English is not good enough sometimes."

So, I assume the only solution to be had is to just say: "Yes dear.  Yes dear."