The philanderer
He laughed, she cried
She wondered why
he was such a bastard,
as she bathed her wounds
No, not wounds visible to the eye;
wounds inflicted by cruel words,
lies and deception, and things he forgot to mention
For example, the partner with whom
he shares a home and three children,
and don’t forget the dog and two cats.
He was at a loose end, in a strange town;
the missus would never know, and even if she did,
she would never leave. I mean where would she go?
All she cares about is the fancy house,
and the clothes she likes to wear.
She needs me to keep her there,
in middle class suburbia, coffee mornings
and dinner parties-she knows which side her bread is buttered
He didn’t expect this surprise-bun in the oven,
four months gone; she wants commitment
He shouts, asking how she could be so bloody stupid
I mean he just said he loved her, you know, the way you do?
Sure, he likes her, well sort of
Especially when she does the things that give him pleasure;
he thought it would go on without measure.
But she has to spoil it by getting pregnant
and asking him for more commitment
The thing is, doll, you’re not important-
as for that bun, you could abort it
I’m already taken, you cannot have me;
I’m off home to a dinner party
with the main woman in my life,
who for twenty years has been my wife.
You’ll never replace her, that’s a fact-get over it,
I’m out of here, and I won’t be back
She looks in the mirror at her tear stained face,
thinking, how did she manage to make this mistake?
Two years together, she thought he loved her;
she’s so angry, she could commit murder
She always wanted a child; it’s really a blessing
and she’ll manage somehow, but it’s been a hard lesson.
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Purgatory, nothing lasts for ever
She sees the kids off to school and goes to the hairdressers;
a new hairstyle will surely make her feel better
He’ll be home tomorrow, I hope he likes it and doesn’t criticise
me for having the gall to change my hair
and lose his temper, before dragging me up the stairs
to take what he’s entitled to, and more;
my dignity and self respect, as he calls me a filthy whore
It’s always the same routine, every Friday morning,
the kids at school, the blinds still down, he’ll tell me that he’s horny
Put on the lingerie I purchased to make you more attractive;
he’ll rip it off, hold me down and do whatever he fancies.
Have a bath, you filthy slut, I don’t know why I bother
to come home at all, but I like to see my daughters
He washes and puts on his clothes, bangs the door as he leaves
to meet his mates at the golf club, act as if he’s the bee’s knees
The drinks are on me everyone, drink up and have fun;
they say he’s great guy, very generous, a real good ‘un
If only they knew how he battered his wife, but in places that can’t be seen;
he tells them he asked her to come, but she clearly wasn’t keen
to spend time with him and his friends, her eyes are fixed on the tv screen
Poor you, say his friends to his face, but say different behind his back;
he’s a brute, a scoundrel and not to be trusted-they are certain of that
Their wives see the bruises on his wife’s face, as she drops the kids off at school,
and just as they’re fading, he’s home again, punishing her for breaking the rules
Here’s the thing, the rules always change, just when she thinks she’s sorted;
last week he was angry that she bought instant coffee,
and now this week he’s pissed cos she hasn’t.
Sunday night, he leaves for the last flight to London; she drops him off,
with a spring in her step knowing that she’ll have the last laugh
The house that she owns, from her loving parents, has been sold
and when he comes home next time, he’ll find out
His little family will no longer be there,
she’ll have hopped on a plane with her beautiful kids,
to a place where they can live in peace
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God’s gift to women?
The phone rings, it’s his lawyer to tell him
that he has an order; he cannot see his wife or children
or be within one hundred yards of them
The police have a full report of all the bruises
he inflicted on her, just for amusement.
The house is sold, and they are gone
and found themselves another home
One where he is not allowed, he is not their father;
no she had the girls when he met her
The house was hers before they wed;
everything was hers, including the bed
Revenge is a dish best served cold,
and served before you get too old
to make a life and have some laughs,
instead of being used as a punch bag
Then he remembers the bitch in London, who’s up the duff
She’ll come in handy, it’s a place to leave his stuff;
yeah, she’ll do for the moment, until things are better-
in fact he’ll write her a soppy letter
He waits for an answer, for over a week; nothing,
he decides to pop over to see
why she hasn’t responded, but then a letter
is delivered, as return to sender.
He speaks to her neighbours and they say, oh she’s gone
far away to live with her mother and father
She said that if you came around
to let you know that your wife called her
to warn her of your violent nature,
You’re a callous brute who deserves to be punished
for all that you’ve done, and be left with nothing