So we've both had a few to drink.
dp starts going on about glastonbury festival (which we have tickets to) and I point out that as the line up is shit this year, a lot of people I have spoken to are glad they never got tickets. He becomes confrontational and asks "who" these people are. I say "just people from work". He starts ranting saying "what the fuck do they know?? They know fuck all about glastonbury, they all speak a load of bollovks!" What could they possibly know!". He always gets like this about glastonbury and to be fair, it's ducking draining, immature and embarrassing. I go on to tell him that the 'people' have been before and are as 'educated' on the subject as he is. He rants that no they are not, nobody knows glastonbury like he does and everyone else speaks a load of bollocks. I bite and say he speaks a load of bollocks. Nail one into tonight's coffin. Later a takeaway arrives and he declares he will have nothing to do with dishing it up. So I dish it up but forget(??) to put forks on everyone's plate. The kids don't mention it. He however moans and complains with comments such as "before I met you, I'd always have a girl for my tea"????!!! I snapped "fuck off back to your ex then, she's very welcome to you". The argument continued.
We go to bed and all the time I'm trying to ease it between us, saying let's not argue etc. he is having none of it and insists on carrying it on as usual. When we get in bed I put my arm around him saying "let's not argue, give me a hug" and he refuses and laughs at me. I've now told him to sleep downstairs but I'm gutted. It's been a hard week and I was looking forward to spending tonight with him. He hates me and I don't even know why, I'm getting sick of trying to guess it